Literary, chocolatey Paris

I arrived in Paris ready to pounce on all that gorgeousness....I sort of surprised myself by taking off in the midst of the summer (unheard of thus far in the Choc Star story!) but when I read about the writing course being run out of Shakespeare & Co by Faber & Faber, everything inside of me just went BOOM!

I booked the course and the train on the same day and kept my tickets and course info tucked away in my desk, occasionally pulling it out to glance over and delight in the prospect of my future Parisienne adventure.

Did I ever mention that I love adventures? The idea of extracting oneself from the homestead and reaching out into unknown places to engage in whatever happens to come your way - oh, the luxury!

Off I sped on my EuroStar train to a chorus of 'Have a good journey, Miss' from all the terribly English ticket collectors (so Brief Encounter!), a couple of hours later I was harpooned straight into a baking Paris afternoon.

And there the holiday really got going...beginning with an immediate attempt at the Hemingway Bar in the Ritz.

'Sorry Mademoiselle but eet eez a leetle urly for ze bar' the dashing doorman warned me - but was kind enough to whisk my luggage odd somewhere safe while I hit the streets instead...and stumbled very quickly upon La Maison du Chocolat.

A Caracas chocolat froid and deep, rich Entremet were soon in my reach, the Rue St Honore but moments away and a whole week of chocolate treats, lunchtime glasses of wine and literary ramblings to indulge in.




This is the view from the appartment I stayed in - my brother's friend Dhiarmid tossed me the keys as he made off for a hike across Utah leaving me his Bonsais to tend to and a whole world of music to get me in the mood - it was Edith Piaf, Serge Gainsbourg and MC Solaar for me from the get-go...

I walked and walked - at first, optimistically in heels then, way more realistically, in flats - taking in the full stretch of endless Rues and Boulevards. From the austere enormity of the Arc de Triomphe to the dusty, lounger studded Jardin de Luxembourg. I covered so much distance that I went through almost a whole box of plasters.

And when it got too much there was the wonderful Arthouse atmosphere of the Metro. I don't know what it is about that bunch of trains all burroughing through their different tunnels, but I love those almost sterile metallics and not quite crystaline strip lights, the retro orange of the plastic seats, the wheeze, hiss and belch of the doors slamming open and barking shut.

And so quick! Delivering me into the centre for the discovered, tourist flooded must-sees, but then out to the 'other Paris' - to Chateau Rouge, Chateau d'Eau, Stalingrad, Jaures, Belleville - for electricity fizzing up from the pavements, duty free fags, boiled sweetcorn with too much salt and endless amounts of the HUSTLE.


But when I discovered the Velib bicycle hire situation I was beside myself with delight. Off to class I'd go every morning, gliding down the Champs Elyses, past the Louvre, under the bells of Notre Dame and over the Seine. The French still have a lot to learn about the concept of the cyclist and I got into one or two hairy situations - but nothing that couldn't pacify me with chocolate or cake.

The two 'c' words! In August. And so almost every single one of the choc-spots and patisseries I had earmarked were resolutely ferme. So I had to pick it up where I could find it - and if that meant eating it for breakfast, lunch and dinner then it was just the way things were going to have to play out. There was always cycling pre and post to keep me on an even keel.

At lunch with my godmother along came this rather 80s looking gateau.

Berthillon saved my life on the hottest day I've had this year - chocolat and cacao amer nestled into a crunchy sugar wafer basket.

I probably should've had another little hamper of the stuff.

In a super old school Bistro one night with a waiter who looked like a cartoon caricature of a french waiter - one of those really barrel-shaped ones - my head was turned by the fondant au chocolat. It seeped out of its dark spongey shell so obligingly.

Pain au choc for brekky - always. Or else the croissant aux amandes. Or the choc/almond combo croissant. But at times the Nutella croissant felt like the right thing to do.

What are they doing here? Oh yes, that's right - heaven on the eyes.

At drinks one night we were fed so well and I didn't even think about a dessert - but then along came these. Super dark Valrhona ganache with a pralinee, crackle-crunch base. Lord they did their job - I had about eight.

Chocolate mousse at dinner one night. I'd say it was a cream-less one, just choc, egg whites and sugar, Raymond Blanc style.

Oh God, the macarons. I ate so many frickin' macaroons I feared for myself and others. This one was violette from Sadahuru Aoki in Lafayette Gourmet and got me every which way and loose. I ate it in Les Halles while having a rest from cycling.

One final lunch in Le Comptoir de Relais finished with this group: Chocolat piment, vanille & caramel buerre sale. That chef had a touch that was petal light when it came to the ice cream. Some of the best I've ever had.

And with that marvelous end to the wonderful eating, the magical writing course and the healthy dose of exercise I ordered an absinthe and then ordered a cab.

Childrens Festival in sunny Suffolk

Sorry for the lack of updates - I've been tent-bound and festi-focussed. But, lots of pics coming soon....just nipping off to Paris for a writing course, am so excited - roll on the pre-EuroStar champers at St. Pancras!

Back next week where Jimmy will be doing his thing at the Bury St Edmunds and Haverhill Childrens Festival - 11th & 12th August.

If you're anywhere near then come on over - it'll be a veritable smorgasbord of entertainment.

Standon Calling

Wild woman from the bog - Molly, my Millais-esque assistant. Actually she was supposed to be from outer space.
This was more Galactic....


While this was plain greedy.

Yeah, who knew, right?

Scary.
Adorable.

Marvelous vistas.

Lovebox

Lovebox was an odd one for me - a festival in London but without camping. Kinda weird heading home each night when the urge was to seek out some kind of tent situation. I suppose I could've stayed in a tent if I'd really wanted to but, speaking truthfully, I'm just not that into it.

We loved seeing Florence and the Machine and Madness - and good to catch up with lots of long lost Brick Lane era Choc Star alumni. Plus I had a great crew of helpers and the sun (mainly) shone!

Camp Bestival

Camp Bestival was super-super busy. I barely got the chance to take any pics such was the rush and the queues. I'm not sure where the recession was but think most people wanted to just get on and have a damn good time. The little ones were our main clientele over the weekend and it was interesting to see how, come Sunday, tempers were fraying a touch and the parents were utilising all manner of ways to try and pacify the weary kids.

It was kind of reassuring actually - for as stressed as I might have been in side the van (Help! We're running out of hot chocolate!/Where's the Honeycomb Swirl?/Who are we serving?/What does everything cost again?), it wasn't a patch on the look of stress etched over the faces of the endless stream of mums and dads who were longing for a bit of inner peace themselves.


So sweet this guy - awkward but throwing in his best leg stance regardless.

Mad for the Martinis...just taking herself off for a couple of choc-martini shots before heading off to the silent disco.

The people would be waiting for us to open each morning - this lot were tucking in right at the front line as if they hadn't eaten ice cream all year.

End of the road, Sunday night and the hot chocolate supplies were looking dangerously low after a pretty wet day.

Weekend of Madness

It's that time of year when Choc Star rolls over to Victoria Park in Hackers and serves treats to the beautiful people. We're girding our loins for a bunfight and will be well kitted out with extra-protective pinnies.

Lovebox Weekender on Sat & Sun - but preceded by Madstock on Friday 17th July. Madness. Brilliant.

If you're coming in then do come over!

Into the Red

Last weekend was my favourite of all the festivals. Smaller, more personal, extra touches everywhere, hot showers (yes, that's high on the list) and the most fun Saturday night party in an underground, warren of caverns, thronging with everyone from the festival - all dressed in RED!

We watched air displays and parachutists, cooked marshmallows on enormous bonfires, took hot tubs, swam in the pool...oh, and served endless roaming kids all looking for ice cream and sundaes and hot choc, seemingly ALL the time.

Here is the weekend's staff - Vee-Vee and Ant:

...some of the more grown-up punters sipping on some choc martini shots


Oh, and my mum turned up for a few hours (as she was in the area) and wasted no time in making new friends (seen here with the wonderful Rico from Fairy Love)

Hanover Day, Brighton (Or how we ended up on Muesli Mountain)

There was something so retro about Hanover Day in Brighton on Sunday. I could imagine great tressle tables, groaning with sausage rolls and Jammy Dodgers lined up the streets as Chuck n Di ambled down the aisle, back in the day. The area - Muesli Mountain - seems like it was meant to have bunting streaming along its technicolour streets. And the people who sat outside their houses with their makeshift stalls, selling flapjacks, iced buns, old books and general, glorious TAT, seemed born to do it.

I worried a bit when I spotted brownies for 60p all over the place - Lawks, what will they make of us coming down here with our hiked up London prices? But I think they knew a good thing when they saw it and we were hit with a steady, mellow tail of choc lovers/ice cream fans all day. Especially the young'uns...