Yes siree, you read it correctly. I’m currently back on my native side of the pond (though not in my native country) for a few days, on a sneaky little holiday that I’ve been looking forward to for the past six months. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to mention it before now.
I flew over from London last night, to surprise my best friend for her upcoming 30th birthday. Hey, after she visited me to celebrate mine in September, it was the least I can do. If there’s one thing life as an expat has taught me, it’s that when you live far away from your nearest and dearest, you have to make your memories happen, and no milestone is too small to celebrate in a big way (30 is hardly peanuts, anyway). I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to showing up at her apartment, late at night, and seeing the look on her face when she opens the door.
Since I’m scheduling this post ahead of time, I’m not able to tell you whether or not the surprise actually worked– we’re pretty in tune with each other’s moods, despite living an ocean apart, so I wouldn’t be shocked if she had sussed that something was up. Still, the surprise itself is the least of it: the important thing is that I’m here, and we’ve got four days of eating out, staying in and catching up to do.
So tell me, American friends– what to do in NYC on Thanksgiving weekend? Would you suggest I try my hand at a little Black Friday shopping, or should I stay far, far away?
I’ll be flying back to London on Sunday evening, and am giving myself Monday off to recuperate. I’ll see you all back here on Tuesday morning. In the meantime, have a great weekend, and a very Happy Thanksgiving to those celebrating!
You never truly leave behind the things you love. For me, this means fashion: the industry was my first love, and though I eventually opted not to work within it, it’ll always have a hold over me. There’s just something about the energy of fashion week or the rush of buying something new and beautiful that I can’t ever forget.
Luckily, the things I love play nicely together, as evidenced by these beautiful shots of interiors styled with clothing, jewelry and accessories. I adore quirky, personal display of any sort at home, and if I lived alone, you can bet I’d make my whole apartment an extension of my closet.
You know how, when your friends are having a dinner party and everyone is asked to contribute a dish, you never know what you should bring? You want to make something easy but impressive, delicious but simple? The host is taking care of the main and somebody else got to dessert first, so the only things left are (boring) salad and sides? This is what you should make.
(Disclaimer: Look, I love salads, and in fact I’m bringing one to a potluck this evening. But let’s be real here: in the context of impressing your pals, they’re boring.)
My reasoning is simple. You need something to snack on while while you catch up over that first glass of wine, everyone loves freshly-baked bread, and the opportunity to indulge in a pairing so nutritionally off-limits (simple carbs! pure fat!) is definitely the right tone to hit for a party.
This recipe comes from one of my favourite cookbooks by one of my favourite food writers, Super Natural Every Day by Heidi Swanson. From my first flip-through of this wonderful book I knew I wanted to make this– a freeform rye soda loaf which comes together so quickly it should hardly be called baking at all.
Just promise me that you won’t make this bread without the herb butter, which is the silent star here. Mixed with goats cheese, shallots and herbs, it’s one of the tastiest things I’ve eaten all year. Just make sure that your pals finish it off at the party, otherwise you may find yourself sneaking tiny spoonfuls of leftover butter every time you open the fridge door. Or maybe that’s just me.
Ingredients
For the bread:
275g (2 1/3 cups) rye flour
225g (1 3/4 cups) plain flour, more for dusting and kneading
1 3/4 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/4 teaspoons sea salt
2 cups buttermilk, plus some for brushing
For the butter:
1 1/2 tablespoons finely minced shallot
1 1/2 tablespoons finely chopped dill
1 1/2 tablespoons finely chopped chives
115g (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, at room temperature
60g (1/3 cup) semisoft goats cheese
1/2 teaspoon flaky sea salt
Method
Preheat the oven to 400F/205C and place a rack in the middle of the oven.
Sift together the flours, baking soda and salt into a large bowl. Make a well in the centre and pour in the buttermilk. Mix well with a dough whisk or wooden spoon, until everything comes together into a sticky dough.
Turn out dough onto a lightly-floured surface and knead for about 30 seconds, giving it just enough turns to form a cohesive, slightly-flattened ball.
Place ball on a lightly-floured baking sheet and brush the top with buttermilk, then sprinkle over a few more tablespoons of flour. Using a sharp serrated knife (it will help to wet it with hot water first), make four deep gashes across the top of the dough, about 2/3 of the way down into the loaf.
Bake on the middle rack for 30 minutes, then quickly move the loaf to the top part of the oven for another 20 or so, so the top gets nice and browned. When the bread is done, a hard crust will form everywhere and the loaf will sound hollow when tapped on the bottom. Remove to cool on a rack.
To make the herb butter, mash together the butter, cheese, shallots and herbs. I find that the easiest way to do this (especially if your butter and/or cheese is still a little cool) is to use the blade of a large and sturdy knife to mash everything together on a chopping board. Sprinkle over the sea salt, mash it in, and pack the butter into ramekins or a small bowl. It will keep for about a week in the fridge, but is best served at room temperature.
Did you have a good weekend? Mine was low-key with rather a lot of work involved, but I did manage to escape my computer on Saturday evening for some pre-holiday drinks with a few friends. We must have been in an American Art Deco mood, because we kicked things off with martinis at Christopher’s, and eventually headed to the Savoy for a nightcap.
Though I got straight down to business again the next morning (ish), the inspiring settings of the evening must have stayed with me. I was browsing Domaine earlier and was bowled over by this 1930s home in the Hollywood Hills– isn’t it just smashing?
I’m completely obsessed with the open floor plan, all the light, and the touches of gold and ochre everywhere you look. Not for nothing do I call this shade my “signature colour.”
The outside is incredible too, if you’re into Art Deco design. Though its nautical vibe might not be my usual jam, I wouldn’t say no to spending a few days relaxing on that terrace.
Incidentally, it’s also for sale. You know, if you’ve got three million burning a hole in your back pocket.
Moroccan wedding blankets, more correctly called handira, have become super-popular as an interior accessory in recent years, inspiring style-savvy girls all over the world to hunt them down online and pin images of them to “Dream Home” boards on Pinterest. In fact, if you’re reading this blog and are into interiors, I’m willing to go out on a limb and guess that you suffer from the same handira-lust that I’ve been under for the past, oh, three years or so.
You can hardly fail to understand their popularity: the beautiful textures of these vintage, hand-woven wool blankets lend an eclectic quality to any room they’re placed in. I also think they’re a somewhat easy and – dare I say it – safe way to achieve the “global” look that’s so popular these days. The white colour means that they’ll easily fit into any palette, and the traditional fluffy, textural bands and sparkle from the sequins read as both feminine and quirky. In short: they’re crowd-pleasing.
Handira were traditionally woven by Berber women of the Middle Atlas Mountain region of Morocco, as part of marriage traditions. A bride’s female relatives would spend weeks before the wedding making and embroidering this blanket, which was part of her dowry. The usually white blankets feature strips of kilim-style colour and pattern, as well as rows of metal sequins; reasons cited for the latter range from being symbolic of wealth and fertility in marriage, to a way for the bride’s family to represent their wealth and standing in the community.
When you see handira in magazines and blogs, they’re usually slung over the lower part of a bed, as in the photos above. My guess is that this is due to their size: many don’t cover our large Western beds, so work best as a throw. In any case, it’s a lovely look, no?
You also see them occasionally used as rugs, but I think this is less practical. Imagine the dust settling in all those fluffy bands, or indeed, tripping over one?!
Though they’re usually white, handira can be found in other colours, though I’m not sure how traditional this is. I love the black one above; the sequins look like stars in an inky sky to me.
This is probably my favourite way to display handira, hung on the wall. It’s how, one day, I hope to hang mine; above my bed (a modern four-poster in glossy black, please) in a white room with minimal other accessories.
Because, oh yes, I finally have a handira of my own. After years of lusting after the things on the pages of my favourite shelter mags and blogs, I can cross that particular item off my “Dream Home” list.
My mother and aunt went to Morocco on holiday earlier this year, and my mum bought one for me as a birthday present. It wasn’t really a surprise (I did bug her about it for weeks before she left, naturally), but it was still wonderful to open this on my 30th birthday.
My handira is quite simple, with bands of beautifully woven pattern and stripes and small clusters of silver sequins. It’s also unusual in that all the coloured bands and sequins are on one side, and the fluffy bands are all on the other. I keep in on my bed sequin-side-up, but the back is definitely fluffy and warm to throw over my knees while I’m reading or writing in bed.
Here’s a fun fact: since the bride for whom it was made traditionally wore the handira from her parents’ house to her new marital home, like a cape, many vintage blankets have two shoulder ties attached to one side, to fasten it around the wearer’s shoulders. The newer ones aren’t made with these ties, so I was stoked to find two still intact on mine. I love wondering who my handira was made for, and who wore it to her new home.
As you’ve probably sussed by now, I’m a huge fan of a) brunch and b) discovering new places in London, so it stands to reason that any day that combines those things is rather a red-letter one for me. A couple weekends ago, starved for food, sunshine and excitement, I grabbed my good friends Claire and Cinzia and headed out to procure these things at the new Granary Square in North London, and one of its newest culinary attractions, Grainstore.
Granary Square is part of the huge, multi-billion development happening at King’s Cross right now. What was once an industrial wasteland next to Regent’s Canal has been transformed into an attractive, interactive public space, with some great food options to boot (more on those later). The square itself has been open since last summer, but this was the first time I’ve really had a chance to explore, camera in hand. Luckily, it was a beautiful day for it!
The square itself is a vast cobbled area, which was once an unloading bay for barges delivering their goods to the Victorian warehouse adjacent. That warehouse now houses the famous Central Saint Martins school of design, which must make a nice change for students and teachers (for decades the school, considered one of the top educational institutes for creative learning in the world, was housed in a comparatively small and dilapidated building on Charing Cross Road, and I always felt the disconnect whenever I walked by).
As to be expected, there were all kinds of arty people milling about, meeting friends, enjoying the weather watching the amazing “dancing fountains”. Cinzia and I become obsessed with these– the jet patterns were constantly changing, like music that you see instead of hear.
Above is the terrace of Granary Square’s other popular culinary destination, Caravan. I’ve been meaning to go with a friend of mine for months – difficult to sort when we’re both such South Londoners so busy. Now that I’ve had a taste of this place, expect a visit here to be appearing soon, too.
At the far end of the square is a small copse of ultra-manicured trees with seating scattered underneath. The lack of grass and the coloured chairs reminded me a little bit of the Jardins du Luxembourg in Paris, though on a much smaller scale, of course.
But seriously you guys, the fountains. I took about one million photos of the jets, and Cinzia became obsessed with getting a good video of the action.
Soon enough it was time to stop photographing, and get some food in our bellies. This is where we were going; I would have loved to show you the interior as well (think industrial warehouse meets rustic French country, or go here for images), but Grainstore have a strict “no photography” rule inside, apart from the food itself. Don’t even get me started on how stupid I think those kinds of rules are…
Moving on! Since this was technically a lunch, and a late one at that, we decided to forgo the coffee and skip right to the booze. Cinzia’s Green Tomato Martini was one of the prettiest drinks I’ve seen, and my Bloody Mary was one of the tastiest (hence the lack of photographic evidence).
We were all delighted with our mains: I went for the flatbread with hummus, labneh and a poached egg, Cinzia for the rocket, courgette and broad bead frittata (which we all felt looked and tasted beautiful, but was perhaps a bit summery to appear on a menu in early November), and Claire for a rather posh welsh rarebit with spinach and onion jam.
Dessert was an apple, blackberry and elderflower crumble for me, and coconut tapioca pudding for Claire and Cinzia. The girls enjoyed theirs, but mine was definitely the star; it came with a scoop of olive oil ice cream which was out of this world, I’m telling you.
After digesting over mint tea and laughter, we rolled ourselves out the door, to find that evening had fallen while we were stuffing ourselves within. One plus to this: the fountains were now colourful!
Images © Eleanor Büsing
This is probably my favourite way to display handira, hung on the wall. It’s how, one day, I hope to hang mine; above my bed (a modern four-poster in glossy black, please) in a white room with minimal other accessories.
