The only way is Tudor

I'd been promising Bob a night out at the Sugar Hut for ages so before I left Chingford I thought I'd better oblige in some way. I'm not so much a night owl these days so we settled on brunch for a tour of Essex.
Unfortunately once over the border I quickly reverted to type and ditched the lip gloss for food and a history trip. I was always more Anne Boleyn than Amy Childs.

We stumbled on Queen Elizabeth's hunting lodge/drinking hut and settled down for a brunch of epic proportions. Three drinks please (tea, orange, water fyi)! Only the best for the ladies of my court.

The hunting lodge was built for by Henry VIII when he was too obese to hunt. He would sit upstairs at the window and once his staff had shooed the deer close by he would shoot his arrows at them. I went one better by shooing the deers right inside. What a shot!

Fatkins diet

So I've resorted to practically paying people to host dinners for me (joke, thanks Alex). It's just so hard without a house. Sob sob sob.

That's probably why I've turned to comfort eating. An extra choc ice after breakfast here, 10 bourbon biscuits  and baby bels for bed there. It's ever so soothing. And I've grown to quite like being a slight tiny tiny bit bigger. A little extra padding, much more comfortable, ever so much more designed for pleasure. I call it "The LUXURY body". Just like Elle Macpherson but with a more palatable accent.

You can try it if you want. For a BBQ you need 15 steaks, 30 sausages, 8 cheesy burgers, a few packs of fake burger cheese, 40 buttered rolls, and a few roasted peppers for decoration. Only invite a few people. You don't want to share.

I'm sorry I don't have any proper photos. Or recipes. I'm not very good at food blogging really. Only eating. 

Filth

I had the most disgusting burger in Ypres recently. It was teeming with yellow sauce, red sauce, pickles, something indistinguishable. I couldn't even eat it as it was so wet.

I just couldn't pick it up without getting sticky fingers..

Much like my new book 50 Shades of Grey. I was in the St Pancras Eurostar lounge when a nameless good friend rang to declare, "Franny, you simply must purchase this book. It's so popular it's sold out in Macclesfield!"

Can you imagine?

Off I went to the WHS travel book shop to have a look. There it was winking down at me. So with some furtive glances around the shop I pulled it off the shelf.
I thought I'd better buy The History of the World in 100 Objects, too, to disguise my purchase but the cashier still smirked at me. But maybe he just likes women with brains and an interest in ancient pottery.

I couldn't really wait to tuck in, unlike with my burger, so ripped it open right there on the Eurostar. Was feeling very tasteful until my Dad leaned over and said, 'Oh why didn't you just borrow that off me? I thought it was a bit tame.'

Oh. Well, he also ate his burger right up so you can see a pattern.

Journey to the far East (London line)

Fed up of only practising for my holiday by running baths in my new bikini, I went to Dave and Chris' for some authentic steamy pad thai.

OOOOOOOhhh it was hot.

As I was just chatting at them whilst they were cooking I couldn't really depict for you ingredients or method but I can supply some pictures. Some with real steam in them.

Sorry about that photo Dave. I just like how FRANTIC the cooking is.

Ah. The calm after the tropical storm.

Much like how I used to guess what I was eating from Vietnamese street vendors whilst the boys would shout at me, let's have some guesses now. I think we ate noodles with prawns, peanuts and sweet thai basil, with a poached egg on the top. I do remember that it was really delicious. 

Eggs benedict

Now, you all must have heard that a very special muscley friend of mine has soared right into the limelight recently. No, Johnny hasn't got arrested for crimes against low v vests, or even for leading the head of the illuminati army. My friend Benedict, who I met at Dave's (and practically, my) sister's Christmas Cabaret has joined the cast of the Big Brother house.

I wonder if he will name drop me when he's finished talking about this: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-2161302/Big-Brother-2012-Benedict-leaves-housemates-disgusted-admits-masturbating-shower.html

Oh dear. He might be making as much of a mess of his 15 minutes of fame as I did of a meal of fried eggs, mash, mushrooms, tomatoes, in a similar window of time.

Well, as they say, you can't polish an egg. 

Chineing out of my mind

I'm seriously still jangling after THIS much cheese at Chaz's house on Tuesday.
We had lots of cherry tomatoes too, crackers, celery,
syphillis, grapes, chutneys, quince paste, gherkins,
red onions, olives, and obviously, because I'm a right Laura Corby, I insisted on a whole pack of fatty meat cuts.

We had such an Olympian amount of food that it needed its own opening ceremony before we could jump in.

Luckily the wine wasn't £7 a small glass, so we could polish off quite a few bottles without fear of spending out oyster fare home.

Pining

Wales was so good.

I had a walk, had a bath, ate food prepared for me. Kind of like living at Granny's but with mountains and alcohol.

On the train home I would have carried on crying about leaving, but for my packed tea making it impossible to chew and sigh at once.

I took some slices of bread, the rest of the chutney, about eleven fruity oaty chocolatey cereal bars, some warm hunks of cheese, and an apple. The crowning glory was a large slice of Dave's pine nut cake. It is seriously the best cake ever. So juicy. I remember once, a nut allergy sufferer asking me, what do pine nuts taste like? Probably like death to you, but to me, delicious.

I would ask Dave for the recipe but I'm pretty sure my five readers just skip through that part when I bother.