A taste of the Electric East

If you are looking for something a little bit different – a change from the usual Italian fare which seems to monopolise restaurant chains, each one being yet another unexciting permutation of another – then try Electric East, a restaurant offering oriental cuisine from Cambodia, Thailand and Vietnam, right in the heart of Newcastle city centre.

First impressions lead to equivocal conclusions, but once you have adjusted to the alternative décor and the relaxed oriental vibe, you will have received an extremely friendly welcome and been greeted by an extremely helpful and charming team, who clearly understood and cared about what they were serving up.

After scrutinising the menu extensively (a large part of which I had already done at home), my friend and I settled on a selection of the tapas starters: the crispy strips of salt and chilli squid, the scallops with pork and peanut caramel, and tempura king prawns with vindaloo mayo and chilli jam.

The squid arrived first, beautifully presented in a bucket with a ceramic spoon of salt and a bowl of dipping sauce. The squid was quite possibly the freshest I have ever tasted, cooked and seasoned to perfection, and augured well for what was to follow. At the risk of becoming boring and repetitive by praising the presentation of each and every dish so elaborately – it really cannot be emphasised enough. The scallops, nestling on a base of pork belly and sprinkled with beansprouts and chilli amongst a satay sauce with chunks of peanut, looked equally impressive, and the contrast between the soft and tender scallops, and the crunch of the peanuts in the sauce which had a perfect kick to it, was extraordinary.

We moved onto the third tapas with no reservations whatsoever – the tempura prawns were coated in the perfect weight of an extremely tasty batter, and the prawns were fat, juicy and undeniably fresh; a veritable taste explosion. The vindaloo mayo and chilli jam were the perfect accompaniment, although the chilli jam was somewhat on the sweet side.

We were struggling to remember the last time we’d had a meal incorporating so much flavour within so many different dishes. My main course arrived – a trio of fish: tempura, breaded and tandoori coated respectively, inside a wire mesh basket, alongside a jenga-stack of chips, a saucer of lime-crushed peas and a mini kilner jar of tartare sauce, which really sold it to me. A squeeze of lime and a sprinkling of salt – each variant of fish was faultless and sublimely fresh. My friend chose the chicken satay Chu Chee curry, a north Thai red curry with red peppers, honey, chilli and coriander – more exquisite flavours, which reportedly ‘got better with every bite’, unlike so many satay dishes which can become rather sickly – although the sweet potato was arguably somewhat superfluous.

To finish, we shared a passion fruit panna cotta, which was the ultimate refresher and palate cleanser, a pudding which was not too rich but which boasted intense fruity flavours and a strawberry mousse on top, which was not overly sweet and thoroughly cleansed the mouth.

Electric East is spacious, quirky and outstandingly friendly, and the team and the chef are to be congratulated on such an impressive service and first-class food, which I am confident in affirming will not disappoint. Fresh, tasty, and original – break away from the chains and treat yourself to a new experience. There is no excuse not to – from Durham it is just a 15 minute train journey to Newcastle and a 5 minute walk from Central Station. For contact details and menus seehttp://www.electric-east.co.uk/ or call             0191 221 1000       to book.

Gin o'clock in Madrid

According to TimeOut's Shortlist guide to Madrid, Madrid is "currently going mad for gin and tonic". They are not wrong. With every intention of beginning my 5 day jaunt to the Spanish capital exactly how I meant to go on, I arrived at Gatwick South Terminal at 9am on a Monday morning and wasted no time in scouting out the samples in Duty Free, where I was given a rundown of the Chase Distillery's 'Williams Gin'. This I learnt was the latest venture from William Chase who is more famously known as the man behind Tyrrells crisps, who decided to turn his potatoes to vodka and his apples to gin. The result was a delicious cidery gin and a hazy boarding unto the somewhat dubious Ryanair specimen which claimed to possess powers of flight. I was grateful for this shot of Dutch courage, it turned out, as we juddered our way across the French and Spanish troposphere in a sweaty cabin with the garish trademark blue and yellow plastic adorning the interior from head to toe.


On alighting, Tash and I were both in need of a stiff drink, and once we had negotiated the Spanish public transport system and relieved ourselves of our bags in our hostel, we embarked on that exact mission. The first bar we came to, Cafe Central, in Plaza El Angel, was bustling and had a good atmosphere, and a quick glance at the drinks menu told us it was importantly within our budget. This was our first introduction to what would prove to be the overriding gin of choice in Spain, 'Larios', and we soon gathered that 'dos larios combinados' was what we were after. I was delighted to observe that every single drinks menu I scrutinised throughout my trip offered a supplementary 1 euro surcharge for the accompaniment of the illustrious Fever Tree tonic, which the Spanish have clearly latched onto; an awakening which is decidedly tardy in England. Forget the paltry 25ml measures in the UK; in Spain they are much more liberal. The barman imparted a generous glug of gin into a glass with a casual wrist action, and then looked at me questioningly, asking '¿Más?' I gave him a debonairly affirmative response with a 'why not' look, and before I knew it the glass was over half full of gin, and all for the same base price of 5 euros. Ideal. Soon the traumas of flying Ryanair were all behind us and we were tapping our feet on wooden chairs to the jovial sound of live jazz.

From then on our gin experiments were presented to us in a new and unfamiliar vessel: brandy balloons - for gin. We watched in awe and wonder as balloon after balloon received the generous 'hand flick swig' of the gin bottle which cascaded upon a bed of ice cubes and various citrus fruits, and was topped up with a glass bottle of Schweppes. (Student budgets sadly don't allow for the luxury of Fever Tree). Balloon after balloon, we swayed back out onto the Madrilenian pavements into the sunshine and duly sought the nearest patch of grass upon which to recline, recover and philosophise. 


One of our favourite haunts was Dos Gardenias on Calle Santa Maria: you had to know about it, for there is no sign on the door and after going down two flights of stairs, you arrive in a very unlikely but atmospheric, dimly lit bar with vintage velvet sofas and armchairs and a completely chilled vibe. Here we started off with mojitos and then swiftly veered back onto the gin path, where we learnt the Spanish for straw ('pajita'), which we sought in a bid to reach the bottom of our 'balloons'.

An important landmark for us which we had scouted before arriving in Madrid was the self-explanatory 'Gin Club', adjoined to Mercado de la Reina on Gran Via. The restaurant itself was charming, with endless delicious tapas out on display and a lively atmosphere. It took us a while to get across to the waiters that we were actually in search of 'The Gin Club', which is the downstairs part but not signed. It was much quieter down here, but the menu boasted over 30 different types of gin which I had never even heard of: there was no denying this was exactly what it said on the tin, albeit at somewhat un-student-friendly prices..! We opted for the City of London specimen, which undoubtedly surpassed all the other G&T's sampled in other establishments. The winning component was the huge slice of ginger which was implanted with some orange; indescribably refreshing and a winning flavour combination. 

Move over, Sangria: 'la ginebra', or the Spanish translation for the ensemble "un gin tonic", is the latest Castilian craze. 
Too bad I'm going to be spending six months there.

One a penny, two a penny

As Easter Sunday rapidly approaches, it is officially ‘HCB’ season, despite the fact that they are rightfully or wrongfully available all year round, with the likes of Warburtons going so far as to marketing a heathenish ‘Hot Cross Loaf’  and thus shamelessly  renouncing their traditional significance in the form of what is no more than a glorified fruit loaf. Nevertheless, this time of year should be seen as an excuse for excessive consumption of these fruity buns, ideally toasted and dripping with butter, at any time of the day. With a plethora of specimens available to uninformed consumers, I have done the homework for you in a bid to help you avoid the unparalleled disappointment of a mediocre Hot Cross Bun. The bun must not be dry; it should have a generous fruit to dough ratio which should be manifest when sliced in half, they must be soft, and they must be eaten with real butter.

The only real dilemma of where to purchase hot cross buns in Durham lies between Tesco and M&S, as other retailers either do not exist or are too inferior to mention. Starting with most basic of options - the bog-standard Tesco Bakery 6 for an undeniably economical 50p whilst on offer - these buns are nothing special, somewhat on the dry side and rather mean with the fruit. Tesco’s Finest variety, however, offers a pleasingly spiced plump dough with healthy sized sultanas and a good overall texture, a marked improvement on its budget range and worth paying a little more for (£1.29 for 4 or 2 for £2). The supermarket then deviates from convention with varieties such as Cranberry and Orange, and Chocolate and Orange, the latter of which I personally find to be akin to a confused pain au chocolat or brioche; too sweet and insulting the archetypal image of a hot cross bun. For those watching their waists in the run up to Easter, a Tesco Light Choices bun is available at a pound-shedding 185 calories per serving, but in my view the compromise in calories is directly proportionate to  a compromise in flavour, and only a 15% redemption of calories – not worth it.

Wander a few metres further down Silver Street and thrust open the welcoming doors of Marks & Spencer. You know exactly what you’re getting when you purchase the classic 4 pack of M&S Luxury Hot Cross Buns, and they are indeed hard to fault; they comply with tradition and are arguably the best in their field. Their permutations are equally impressive, with an extremely fruity Cranberry and Orange for those in search of their five-a-day, bursting with juicy vermilion jewels, or my personal favourite is the Luxury Seeded hot cross bun, whose nutty texture is unbeatable with four tasty types of seed all nestled within the bun’s integument. The Mini Hot Cross Bun pack is also appealing, for a bite size taste explosion on the go, or indeed a less guilt-inducing option. It is worth noting that the entire M&S Hot Cross Bun range are on offer for 2 for £2 – so there is no excuse for missing out.

If you find yourself beyond the confines of DH1, for example, in Newcastle – and you serendipitously stumbled across a Waitrose branch, then you may prepare yourself for a whole new hot cross bun experience – Heston Blumenthal has released a signature ‘Earl Grey and Mandarin’ hot cross bun. They are no bargain, at £1.59 for two, but they are a generous size and the aroma when you open the packet is impressive – the Earl Grey soaked array of dried fruits within is abundant, and, unsurprisingly, it goes particularly well when bites are taken in between sips of Earl Grey tea.

Whichever echelon you decide to opt for, whether according to your budget or your concern for quality, ensure they are fresh, hot, and dripping with Lurpak - and consume in excess over Lent. If you have no daughters: give them to your sons.

Edinburgian provender

A weekend north of the border has induced the discovery of several enchanting dining establishments in the Scottish capital which I am gratified to add to my repertoire; a sad deficiency of such ventures in Durham only serves to heighten my appreciation of such revelations when visiting elsewhere.


The first port of call, Urban Angel, did not initially grab me - when I say initially, it only took a half a minute or so to grasp the distinction of the place. The atmosphere and vibe is fresh and bright, with a dazzling display of deli products and appealing salads behind the glass counter, and on top, the finest specimen of almond croissant I ever did behold. Despite a twenty minute wait, due to its blatant popularity, the time passed quickly as we oggled over the delicious array of freshly baked goods in front of us, and it also gave us a chance to study the menu at length. The specials board was extremely tempting, in particular the chorizo risotto and the mutton tagine, but I eventually settled on the lighter option of the BLT on toasted flatbread with a deli salad - something I would not normally go for, given what I would consider the distinctly poor and tasteless quality of a bogstandard everyday BLT, but already this place had inspired a confidence in me that told me it would not disappoint. It arrived on a platter with an explosion of quality bacon and its accompaniments nestling inside a chargrilled flatbread, with a bowl of giant couscous, goats cheese and roasted vegetables by its side, with various luxury  sauces - overall extremely impressive. My brother ordered the urbanangel burger, something which I usually steer clear from for the same reason as I do BLT's, but the meat was incontestably fresh and full of flavour, and a real mouthful. Given the quality of the food, the bill was not at all unreasonable and I came away extremely satisfied, not least because I was clutching a colossal chocolate brownie bursting with nuts, which I could not fault: pure ambrosia.


The beast that is 'the brownie' turned out to be a recurring feature over the weekend, as my next centre of sustenance, The Elephant House on George IV Bridge, provided me with a breed of brownie I have long wanted to sample - the peanut butter variety. Being a huge fan of both peanut butter and of brownies, I had suspected this seemingly dreamy combination may sound nicer than it actually is, and if I'm honest it is probably better to keep the two separate, but it did a job alongside a very out of character 'Mallow Delight' (an absurdly decadent and frothy drink with more marshmallows than fluid; a dubious ratio), and in a very cosy and warm setting, "made famous as the place of inspiration to writers such as J.K.Rowling" no less. My companion had the Brie, Bacon and Chutney panini which was superb.


Between several laps of the breathtaking M&S Food Hall and its outstanding instore bakery, which without fail leaves me awestruck after every lap, or indeed after each venture down a different aisle, my third Scottish destination was the vintage Italian deli Valvona & Crolla, on Elm Row, which I had in fact been in recommended as it is not exactly stumble-across-able: its sister operation, the restaurant Vin Caffe, however, is situated just off Harvey Nichols on Multrees Walk. The expanse of meats and cheeses on display and the walls of enticing Italian products at once made me feel at home, and as I ventured through the shop towards the back, past copious bottles of wine, I found the cafe, and settled down with the Sunday papers. There were not many people in there, and it was clear that it was probably a place you had to know about, but there was a relaxed and friendly Sunday morning atmosphere, and lots of delicious looking pastries in baskets on the counter. I ordered a double Cappuccino, and one of their Panetellas, with Italian sausage, mustard fruit chutney and rocket -I did not have to wait long, and it was very tasty, although the chutney was rather sweet. The real treat was gaping at the wealth of goods on display afterwards, and I felt it would be rude not to try my third brownie in 24 hours when I saw it looking back at me from its perch - another exemplary model, perhaps not quite attaining the dizzy heights of the Urban Angel design.
I returned to Durham feeling somewhat satiated, and intent on investigating some new establishments within DH1.

Tesco vs. M&S

Mulled wine

I was always going to be biased towards whichever brand of mulled wine I happened to sample first, having been anticipating that magical moment for several weeks now, whilst at the same time not wanting to peak too early, and wanting to judge the moment exactly right. The inauguration of the mulled wine season is a dangerous thing, however, and may lead to a certain dependency in a bid to endure these cold, dark evenings with ever-looming summative deadlines.

On such an evening a couple of weeks ago, a certain specimen caught my eye in Tesco – a certain dark, red, warm and mystical specimen: a specimen which promised so much – that rush of warmth, that unrivalled glow which arises from the very first sup, that woozy feeling which radiates good-will, amity and an all-round joie de vivre. It did not disappoint. At an unimaginably reasonable price of £3.09, to be found exclusively at the Tesco on North Road, this is the without doubt best value for money in Durham, and a small price to pay for what is, for me, the molten essence of Christmas; its festive aroma emanating from within its stemware vessel. The Tesco in Market Place offers only a DIY version, for those after a dubious sense of achievement which can apparently be sourced from adding a Mulled spice sachet to the wine in a pan and warming slowly for 2 minutes. Extra hassle, and 90 pence dearer, and that’s just at its discounted price – RRP £4.99.

‘Your M&S’ offer a “rich, robust blend of fruity Tempranillo and spicy Syrab grapes”, infused with warming aromas of cinnamon, clove, lemon, blueberry and nutmeg (4 flavours less than Tesco), and is only economical bought in pairs at a steep £6.99 for one bottle, but with 2 for £10. I regret to confess that M&S is the underdog in this instance; the Tesco North Road version is just too good value and the difference in taste is marginal, with Tesco’s being by no means inferior.

Christmas sandwich

This Christmas, Tesco has had a clean sweep – the M&S vs. Tesco Christmas sandwich competition is without contest. Whether you go for the Tesco Christmas Turkey Triple, comprising Turkey and Cranberry, Turkey and Stuffing, and Turkey and Bacon respectively, or the exclusive and unparalleled Tesco Finest Christmas Special (a  veritable taste explosion, denoting perfect harmony between ingredients which were made for one another, and in generous quantities too) - which constitutes a mouth-watering Turkey Feast (turkey breast, pork stuffing, Lincolnshire sausage, cranberry sauce, mayo and bacon), a Wiltshire Ham, Vintage Cheddar & Chutney, and a Smoked Salmon & Cream Cheese number to top it off - you will be left neither hungry nor disappointed. Which is more than can be said should you seek a similar result in its neighbouring competitor – the 2 sandwiches Marks and Spencer can offer you are lacking in taste and flavour, and do not boast nearly so superior an array of ingredients. The first, the M&S ‘Count on us’ Turkey and Cranberry Coleslaw, is a preposterous notion – at a ‘feel-good’ 285 calories per sandwich, you will be left with no less of an appetite and an unpleasant taste in your mouth. Who wants to cut the calories on a Christmas sandwich anyway? Christmas is about indulgence. The regular ‘M&S Turkey Feast’ likewise lacks in any great gusto, and next to the Tesco Finest variety its inferiority is heightened – not what you would come to expect from such a well-reputed brand.

Piccadilly since 1707

Friday 26th August 2011

A substantial push is required to part the classic wooden doors through which you find yourself in the unique atrium of Fortnum and Mason, a magnificent room comprising a gastronome's paradise: shelves and shelves of beautifully packaged teas, coffees, jams, chocolates, biscuits, cheese - all displayed in all their splendour in carefully packed rows. The atmosphere is welcoming, friendly, and there seems to be a feeling of mutual acknowledgement that this is a special place.

It is a commonly known fact that he who dares to test their self control in such an environment by browsing on an empty stomach will suffer, or at least their bank balances will, so with every intention of returning after lunch, we made our way to The Fountain restaurant, a middle ground between the relaxed ice cream indulgence that is The Parlour on the floor above, and the devastating interior of St James's restaurant on the top floor. After an initial look of doubt from the waiter when we announced that we did not have a reservation, we were soon seated and revelling in the cool ambiance that surrounded us; a glorious room which nonetheless exuded a relaxed a sociable air. It did not take us long to decide, and our thirst was soon quenched with that all important first gulp of a chilled glass of Chablis, and a wicket basket of beautiful breads was presented to us, from which I selected an aromatic hunk of apricot and fig bread.

Presently, a platter of grilled razor clams promptly landed before my brother; an impressive piece which none of us were familiar with but which received top marks. The fish was expertly cooked to the perfect texture, and the clams were nestling in a rich sauce of butter, chilli, lime and garlic which was ambrosial, with the chilli providing a cheeky after-kick.

Feeling enthused, optimistic and eagerly awaiting what was anticipated to be the prompt arrival of the main courses, we praised the experience thus far, though were faced with a challenge when trying to establish where we fitted in among the eclectic mix of customers that surrounded us, of which there was no one of my generation, a Chinese family with 2 young children, a handful of middle aged couples and several businessmen.

Whilst observing these varied characters, it soon came to our attention that many of them had in fact arrived after us, yet they were one by one tucking into their lunch, of which there was still no sight of ours. A few audible complaints from my stomach and a glance at my watch told me that 45 minutes had now passed prompted a querying frown in the waitress's direction and a request to find out what had happened to our meal.

Meanwhile, condensation droplets were beginning to form round the rim of my glass and my self restraint required to save it to go with the food was fast disappearing.

Fifteen more minutes passed and it was quite clear that our message had not been passed on and we had been nothing short of forgotten. At the hour mark both my mother and I were beginning to have a real sense of humour failure and my mother was threatening to leave. At last the manager came over and made the fatal error of assuring us that our food would arrive in 4 minutes, at which I immediately put him on the clock. 9 minutes later and it was on the table, with my mother shaking her head and muttering and me firing my most unimpressed face none too sparingly.

However poor the service, it could not take away from the quality of the food. I had ordered an asparagus and apricot salad with couscous and a crispy breaded poached egg on top - and I could not fault it. The asparagus were perfectly cooked and tender, as was the poached egg, which oozed an aureate stream of viscose yolk upon entry, and the apricot and pomegranate provided an injection of flavour and crunch amongst the soft couscous. My mother had a creamy bowl of fish pie with a plethora of fish inside including mussels, scallops, prawns and salmon, and a superb ratio of potato to sauce to fish, which is so often unsatisfactory. Alas there was no seasoning on the table, which I had immediately observed, as two supplements without which I feel incomplete. Before we had finished, the manager arrived and presented the bill tucked inside a card and announced apologetically that the entire meal was complimentary.

Undeniably an embarrassing situation, but having gone with such high expectations in anticipation of the experience, and with such a reputation to uphold, it seemed only right that they should have gone to such lengths to compensate for our disappointment.

Still, I refuse to let this particular episode mar my high opinion of the establishment, and it will not prevent me from returning.

A British summer... with Italian food

Friday 1st July 2011


Two new gastronomic experiences

The Wimbledon fortnight, one of the most anticipated events in the British calendar, is reaching its climax and across the country people are settling down to national treasure Sue Barker, a dose of the BBC’s epic montages created in anticipation of the Murray/Nadal semi-final, and a reassuring cup of tea to help calm the nerves as they prepare for the emotional rollercoaster that is supporting a Brit at Wimbledon. We are, of course, joined by the comforting presence of Boris, John Lloyd and Andrew Castle, without whom such a match would be unthinkable.

A week into a three month holiday with my first year of university behind me, and a never-ending stretch of time lies before me.  Thus far I have been occupied with the antics of toned tennis players, their bronzed bodies juxtaposed with fluorescent white attire: my diet has not, however, consisted solely of strawberries and cream and triangular sandwiches - this week has also seen my first experience of both Carluccio’s and of one of the highly reputed Ottolenghi establishments. The first, was entirely deliberate; the second, a happy coincidence. 

Having avidly watched the BBC series, ‘Two Greedy Italians’, but tragically never having been to Italy, I was captivated by Carluccio and Contaldo’s jovial natures and their Italian, relaxed, laid-back approach to cooking and food, seeking simplicity, quality and flavour, sourced from fresh, local ingredients.  The rich, flamboyant images of dishes prepared on the spot hijacked my thoughts and mind, and I consequently made it my mission to visit one of his restaurants forthwith upon returning home for the holidays.

I was not disappointed – as soon as I entered the shop, I found the atmosphere inviting and comfortable, and the setting was bright and appealing, with an enormous array of shelves stacked with a plethora of delicious pastries, preserves and pastas, all calling my name. As a linguist, I was immediately impressed by a breakfast bar with a remarkable range of newspapers in numerous different languages, and I could see myself spending an idle morning with a proper Italian coffee (I later learnt upon studying the menu that you could even choose what type of bean you wanted) whilst perusing The Times, El Pais andLe Monde in succession. After some time spent dissecting the menu, I chose the ‘Zuppa di Funghi con Pancetta’ served with fresh, squidgy Focaccia –a controversial choice for the time of year but given the grey skies, pouring rain and pathetic temperatures which accompanied this particular afternoon, I felt justified in my decision. It was exactly as I had hoped – a hearty soup with lots of substance, generous doses of mushrooms and pancetta and so much flavour, and the perfect hunk of bread to soak it up with. Feeling thoroughly warmed and revitalised, my main course arrived,a similarly aesthetically pleasing affair: titanic pieces of penne with fried balls of spinach and parmesan nestling among them, surrounded by grated courgette and chilli amid a buttery garlic sauce. The garlic was indeed potent, but the flavour was huge – it is rare for me not to add salt to a meal, but unusually I deemed it totally superfluous on my both of my courses – full credit to the chef. After gawping at all the beautiful and mouth-watering goods on offer behind the counter,  I left feeling full but exceedingly satisfied and with every intention of returning. After all my unmemorable  and rather ordinary experiences of ‘Italian’ restaurant chains such as Ask and Zizzi’s, it was refreshing to have a taste of some authentic Italian cooking of a high quality and of such genuine flavour. Next step – go to the country for a first-hand experience of Italian food!

My second new encounter came about as a result of a wild goose chase on a mission to pay my brother’s girlfriend a visit in the prestigious chocolate shop she works in, Rococo, which I had thought was on the King’s Road. True, there is a branch of Rococo on the King’s Road… but it’s not the one she works in! I consequently resorted to my London A-Z and ‘trekked’ to Belgravia, an area of London which I had never been to,  but which I found to be extremely pleasant! After what seemed like a never ending walk, I found myself outside Rococo, reading a sign on the door saying they were closing early today due to a children’s party. I learned my lesson to always check with the relevant individual before making a ‘spontaneous’ visit to their workplace – sod’s law dictates that it will be the one day they are not there or are unavailable! Weary and a little fed up, I turned 180 degrees and what lay before me – none other than an Ottolenghi shop. Since being so inspired by his recipes which I had sampled at a friend’s house, and consequently receiving his book for my birthday, I had always wanted to visit one of his shops and see it for myself, and as if in compensation for the disappointing lack of Rococo chocolates, I happened upon it quite by chance. I rushed towards the door excitedly and was overwhelmed by the vibrant range of salads arranged in huge bowls on the encounter, encompassing more pulses and grains than I could name, all with delicious dressings and a quirky combination of ingredients which most people couldn’t even dream up, yet sitting there in front of me they suddenly seemed obvious. Cursed with the affliction that is indecision, I forwent the salads and settled on a granola bar and a particularly sizeable brownie for my Wimbledon picnic the next day – both of which were exceptional, and the brownie has immediately soared to the top of my list of brownies I have sampled in my life, which given the standard of your average brownie might not be seen as a huge accomplishment – nevertheless, I am impatient to attack my Ottolenghi book in earnest, the white chocolate and macadamia nut brownie being my first port of call.

Next stop Barcelona - it's not Italy, but it is Spain, and I cannot wait to get my hands on some tapas - gambas al ajillo, calamares fritos y patatas bravas, here I come!