I may as well devote the month of May to asparagus because that’s what I will be eating for the most part of it. The asparagus season in Britain is pitifully short lasting no more than 6 weeks so time is of the essence. When I first get my hands on them, which I managed to do last weekend at Borough market, I like to savour them in their most natural state - simply blanched for a couple of minutes with a generous slosh of extra olive oil and a drop of balsamic. A soft boiled egg is an optional extra although it is great for dunking the spears into. Don’t be coy remember that asparagus is a finger food and half the fun of eating them is to pick them up between your fingers and plunge them down your mouth!

On a lazy bank holiday Monday nothing beats Dim Sum. After a late start we headed down town to one of our favourite spots, Yauatcha, Alan Yau’s achingly stylish take on Chinese finger food. I’ve loved this place from its inception despite it being notoriously difficult to get a reservation. Today, however, we lucked out and managed to secure a table upstairs in the teahouse, a refreshing change from the cavernous confines of the basement where we usually eat.

Whilst I could sit and wax lyrical all day about the steamed prawn dumplings with chives, the magnificent buns filled with sweet barbeque pork, and my personal favourite prawn cheung fun, this is not the focus of my post. Instead it is to express my uncontrollable glee at seeing row upon row of iridescent macaroons, not witnessed since my last trip to Laduree back in March.

Yet whilst Yauatcha’s macaroons might bear a fleeting resemblance to their French counterparts they are unique in flavour. Lemon cashew, lychee raspberry, black bean to name a few, afford them an Oriental twist. They might not have the lightness of touch that the French provide but are still a worthy treat.

Yauatcha
15-17 Broadwick Street
Soho
London, W1F
Tel: 020 7494 8888

Regular readers of my blog might have noticed a drop in standards in the quality of photography. Rest assured I haven’t contracted a serious condition which impedes my visual capacities rather it is because the last photographic entries have been of my own doing as opposed to some nifty finger work on Google images. For I must confess that up until a couple of weeks ago I had barely ever picked up a camera, excluding some disposal ones utilized at some debauched nights/holidays in my youth. I’ve always had an admiration verging on the envious for the few individuals who possess the good fortune to write engagingly and also take mouth-watering pictures. When the two mediums come together, think Chubby Hubby, Tartine Gourmande, MonkeyGland and Cream Puffs in Venice to name a few, it can be a potent and titillating combination.

My first efforts in the medium of photography could best be described as conceptual, an assortment of images so blurry and indecipherable that even I was unsure of what the original image was. Nevertheless under the stern tutorship of my husband who proffered these following pearls of wisdom, ‘TAKE THE BLOODY LENS CAP OFF’ and a fashion photographer friend’s advice ‘point the camera at what you want to shoot and then press the button’ I was off to a good start. Reaching inside my baron fridge I grabbed the first solid object which came to hand, a can of Kronenburg 1664 (which probably reveals a little too much information about the household I live in) and began shooting. After an hour and a half fiddling with the focus, aperture and shutter speed I managed to come up with an image that vaguely resembled what was in front of me. And this was my best effort.

I don’t think you’ll be viewing it in the Tate Modern any time soon, however what it does reveal is that somebody as technically retarded as myself can produce an image which is not altogether displeasing.

So this episode marks a new chapter in the history of my blog, because from this day forth I will banish the trusty Google images and replace them with my very own authentic shots. Any tips or words of advice would be greatly appreciated.