Random Definitions

Food:
It includes unlimited edibles which vary in tastes. By some people it is also referred to as the only reason why they're alive.

Academy:
A place where every student goes for the purpose of having fun, dating and killing time. This place is also used for studies but that scenario is rare.

 

Book:
A thing which is used by a person when he runs out of sleeping pills. It can also be used for killing time.

 

Facebook: A social networking site where you can update as many status's as you want, upload as many pics as you want and share as many videos as you want. You might also get some comments as a response. This site is also used for playing FarmVille and many other games as well.

Comment: A response over an activity. Such activities include: status updates, pics, videos, links etc.

Vampires: These are totally gorgeous, breathtaking, stunning creatures which feed themselves on blood of other creatures. A modified and obviously better version of vampires sparkle/glitter when they're exposed to sunlight. Their eyes also change color, for example, they become coal black when they're thirsty. Following are the types of vampires: 

 

1. Bad Vampires: They feed themselves on the blood of humans. They are equally breathtaking but they have blood-red colored eyes. Example of such vampires may be Victoria, her friends and her army of newborn vampires.

2. Vegetarian Vampires: They feed themselves on the blood of animals. Their eyes change colors ranging from beautiful shades of gold to coal black. Example of such vampires may be the Cullen clan and some others.

Music: Specialized sound waves of various kinds which can throw human beings listening to them in various moods. These sounds range from being awesome (Atif, Linkin Park etc) to disgusting (Himesh Reshamiya).

 

Movies: These are a combination of motion picture and sound waves. These have almost all the attributes of music. These also range from being awesome (Lord of the Rings, Twilight, Harry Potter etc) to disgusting (Radio, Team - The Force etc).

 

 

Teacher: A respectable person who sings the best lullaby in town. He has the ability to control you adrenaline rush and turn it into a wave of drowsiness.

 

Comic books: Story books with lots of pictures in it. These books have all the attributes of being focused at audience of age group 7-10 years but these are read by the age group 11-?.

ICAP: Institute of Can't-Pass-Module-C Accountants of Pakistan. Its an institute which leaves no stone unturned in making sure that its students keep visiting it every 6 months for a substantial part of their lives.

 

Wrestling: A show where half-naked men act like they're fighting each other. A fact regarding this phenomenon is still unknown i.e. what actually is the reason behind GUYS watching it. (Spooky !)

Portuguese Custard Tarts

Let me introduce you to the most delicious thing I’ve eaten so far this year: the Portuguese custard tart, or a pastel de nata if you want to be fancy about it. The discovery that there was a Portuguese café about three minutes down my road that sold them for 80p a pop stopped my Saturday right in its tracks. More moreish than your average Bakewell and a bit less in-your-face than a cupcake, my childhood memories are punctuated with these perfect little pastries thanks to yearly family holidays spent in the Algarve.

The first bite was delicately flaky, then soft and chewy as the pastry gave way. The second sank into the cool, creamy custard, scorched on top and accented with a faint egginess below. And the aftermath? An afternoon spent savouring a haze of sunny memories.

My advice would be to find a bakery that sells them and scoff one still warm from the oven, but if you’d like to try your hand at making them then lucky for you the ever-useful Jamie Oliver included a jazzed-up version of them in his recent 30-Minute Meals extravaganza. Recipe below…

Jamie Oliver’s Quick Portuguese tarts with orange caramel

Makes 6 tarts

Plain flour, for dusting

1 x 375g pack of prerolled puff pastry

Ground cinnamon

125g (4½oz) créme fraîche

1tsp vanilla paste or vanilla extract

5tbsp golden caster sugar

1 egg

1 orange

Preheat oven to 200C/ gas mark 6. Dust a surface with flour. Unroll the pastry, then cut it in half so you have two 20cm x 20cm (8in x 8in) squares (put one in the fridge for another day). Sprinkle over a few pinches of ground cinnamon, then roll the pastry into a Swiss-roll shape and cut into 6 rounds. Put these into 6 of the holes in a muffin tin, and use your thumbs to mould the pastry into the holes, so the bottom is flat and the pastry comes up to the top. Put on the top shelf of the oven and cook for 8 to 10 minutes, or until lightly golden.

Spoon the créme fraîche into a small bowl. Add the egg, vanilla paste or extract, 1tbsp golden caster sugar and the zest of 1 orange. Mix well.

Take the muffin tin out of the oven, and use a teaspoon to press the puffed-up pastry back to the sides and make room for the filling. Spoon the créme fraîche mixture into the tart cases, and return to the top shelf of the oven. Set the timer for 8 minutes.

Put a small saucepan on a high heat. Squeeze in the juice from the zested orange and add 4tbsp golden caster sugar. Stir and keep a good eye on it, but remember caramel can burn badly so don't touch or taste.

Pour some caramel over each tart (they'll still be wobbly). Put aside to set.

The Foodie Revolution

We popped it out of its plastic case steaming hot and treacley, the whole candied orange at its centre peeping out like a jellified jewel in the crown. So what was it about Heston Blumenthal’s Waitrose Christmas Pudding that made it December’s hottest buy? Whilst my canny mother had bought ours in November for what at the time seemed like a rather pricey £13.99, come Christmas these limited-edition puds were selling like, um, hot cakes for as much as £200 on eBay. £200! For some contraband sultanas in sponge? For a nation that once accepted boil-in-the-bag cod and a bowl of Angel Delight as fair game, such frenzy over food seemed like something of a revolution. And that’s exactly what it is.

Jamie Oliver and olive oil, Yo! Sushi, those Marks and Spencer’s food-porn ads, knowing how to pronounce “prosciutto”: 30 years ago this was all a distant dream, a foodie paradise found only in more clued-up countries like Japan or Italy. Over the past few decades however, there’s been a tsunami of a sea-change in the UK's view of food. Whether it's Nigella, Jamie or Gordon whom we have to thank for, it's now considered cool for a man to cook up scallops with a cauliflower foam on a casual night in. It’s de rigeur these days to know your rose from your white veal, your snail porridge from your black cod in miso and your scampi from your langoustine (spot the trick question there). The cultural heights of the Westfield London Shopping Centre alone reveal a Benetton-like variety of eats, including Vietnamese, Mexican, Chinese, Italian, Lebanese, Greek, Thai, Japanese, Indian and British. Our stomachs may be steadily expanding, but at least we’re letting them have some fun in the process.

And if you needed any more proof that what we eat now is a hell of a lot more exciting than what it was 30 years ago, cast your eye over this restaurant menu from 1981 (click on the picture and zoom to see it up close). 

 

The Beaujolais in Manchester was one of the city's finest restaurants, serving what was considered top nosh at the time, with top nosh prices to go with it. The images are taken from a total treasure of a book, a compilation of menus from contemporary '80s restaurants called Adventures in Dining: The Gourmet’s Guide to Greater Manchester and North Cheshire. I may have only scanned in one menu to show you, but rest assured, each page reads like a gastronomic Groundhog Day. In 1981 it seems every restaurant – and I mean every single one, whether pricey like The Beaujolais or a cheap little bistro – served the exact same blend of bastardised French fare. To paraphrase:

Starter: Prawn cocktail, avocado, melon, egg mayonnaise, pâté, onion soup. 

Main Course: Steak in cream, chicken in cream, pork in cream, sole poached in cream. Pudding: Crêpe Suzette, baked Alaska, crème caramel.

No sushi, no houmous, no nothing. So when your weekly trip to Wagamama starts to seem a little humdrum, just cast your mind back to a time when noodles were considered nouvelle cuisine and slurp up that bowl of ramen with a smile on your face. 

But returning to the pudding quickly - did Heston deserve the hype? Chock-full of fruit and doused in orange-scented syrup, it tasted delicious, if a little dense. Given it's high-profile past, I’m predicting a pre-emptive August rush on this year’s delivery. Elbows at the ready foodies...

Tea and Sympathy

I’ve gone from loathing it, to liking it, but never quite loving it: for me, a big f**k-off flask of Starbucks will never be as treasured as a nice cup of tea. 

I make no pretence to the contrary that by preferring tea to coffee I lump myself in the fringey, fuzzy, Kate Nash camp of hot drinks. A short and chic shot of espresso conjures up images of kohl-lined eyes and sultry Parisian girls shrugging in café corners. Meanwhile, a steaming mug of Earl Grey sits perfuming the air with a carpeted warmth, enveloping you with softly wrinkled hands delicately dusted with talcum powder. It’s certainly not sexy, but it’s sure as hell appealing. The offer of a cup of tea is Britain’s universal answer to the unanswerable, a comforting filler for unspoken feelings and irreversible truths. Whilst coffee prepares you for the world outside, tea welcomes you back in. With January drizzling miserably at my doorstep, I know which I'd prefer right now. 

Given all this, it's no wonder I instantly loved the concept behind bespoke tea company Blends for Friends. Founder Alex Probyn is what they call a ‘master tea taster’, who spent years blending for one of the world’s best-known brands of tea. Things really took off when he began to make custom blends for friends and family based upon their personalities, and swiftly Blends for Friends was born.

Simply fill in a form online, either about yourself or (as the name implies) a friend, and Probyn will use his expertise to rustle up a tailor-made blend of tea, personally labelled with its own name and description. The form doesn’t just cover preferred flavours, bringing the person’s appearance, their job and any hobbies or interests into the equation as well. I imagine it’s something like that love potion in Harry Potter which has a different aroma for everyone who smells it based upon what they find most appealing - although thinking about it, that casts Probyn as a fictional wizard and me as a massive Harry Potter nerd, so let’s back-track on that metaphor for now. Still, what perfect presents those cute little caddies make! Who said tea couldn't be as cool as coffee?  

And if you need any more incentive to turn over to tea, why not do a Lady Gaga and invest in a statement cup and saucer to sip it with? Pinkies poised at the ready...

Reiko Kaneko Drip & Lip cups, stained with 24-karat gold

Blaue Blume lace and legs cup

Jasper Conran for Wedgwood Chinoiserie cup and saucer

The Ottolenghi Detox

Lose half a stone. Don’t lose my iPhone. Take part in a sponsored ‘fun run’ (I’m trying to ignore the oxymoronic resonance of that phrase). Those are mine, and I imagine you might have some too: New Year’s resolutions. The most popular? Ah, of course - get healthy. You can almost taste it in the air at this time of year, the sense of deep, hungry despair as men and women go about their daily lives on a January detox, heavy-lidded with caffeine-withdrawal symptoms and lumbered with a telltale gym-induction limp.

Now in no way am I a pessimist, but I give mostly everyone – including myself – a month. It’s not that I question people’s resolve, but I do question the exclusion of fun from your life for an entire year. Nobody wants to end up sitting on the sofa alone at home, avoiding the pub, watching repeats of The Biggest Loser and nibbling on a corner of Vogue for some dietary fibre. So do feel smug for a few weeks, then please, retoxify as soon as possible - you’ve earned it.

However, there is one New Year’s resolution I intend to stick to: to cook my way through the latest Ottolenghi book, Plenty. Israeli-born Yotam Ottolenghi’s four delicatessen-cum-cafés, dotted around the yummy-mummy districts of London, are vegetarian meccas. Whether marinated in oils, deeply chargrilled, rubbed with herbs or sprinkled with spices, the Ottolenghi approach to vegetables is anything but boring. There is meat and fish on the menu too, but here, for once, roots, pulses, grains and leaves are the star attractions rather than the side dishes - and there isn't a quiche in sight.

Since receiving Plenty for Christmas, I’ve basically slept with its softly padded cover under my pillow every night, so seductive are its detoxifying dishes. The recipes are the perfect antidote to any junk-food cravings – they just exude health, but in an intensely delicious, mmm-my-God-ing manner. Last night I gave the celeriac and lentils with hazelnut and mint dish a go. Oh my. No, seriously. Mmm-my-God. The comforting nuttiness of celeriac paired with the earthy puy lentils, the soft crunch of roasted hazelnuts with the mint biting through in the background. It's heaven. I urge you to try it before all the resolutions go out the window and it’s back to Thai takeouts. Find the recipe below the here's-one-I-made-earlier photo...

Celeriac and lentils with hazelnut and mint (taken from Plenty, by Yotam Ottolenghi)

Serves 4 (or 2 depressed detoxers)

60g whole hazelnuts (skin on)

200g Puy lentils (I cheated and used Merchant Gourmet’s ready-made packets)

700ml water

2 bay leaves

4 thyme sprigs

1 small celeriac (650g), peeled and cut into 1cm chips

4 tbsp olive oil

3 tbsp hazelnut oil

3 tbsp red wine vinegar

4 tbsp chopped mint

Salt and black pepper

Preheat the oven to 140C/275F/ gas mark 1. Scatter the hazelnuts over a baking tray and roast in the oven for 15 minutes. Remove from the oven, set aside to cool down, then chop roughly.

Put the lentils, water, bay leaves and thyme sprigs in a small saucepan. Simmer for 15-20 minutes, or until the lentils are al dente, then drain into a sieve. Remove and discard the bay leaves and the woody sprigs.

Meanwhile, in a large saucepan, bring plenty of water to a boil, drop in the celeriac, along with some salt, and simmer for 8-12 minutes, or until just tender. Drain.

In a large bowl, mix the hot lentils (make sure they don't cool down - lentils soak up flavours much better when they're piping hot) with the olive oil, two tablespoons of the hazelnut oil, the vinegar, a few grinds of black pepper and plenty of salt. Add the celeriac, stir, taste and adjust the seasoning as necessary.

If you're serving this straight away, stir in half the mint and the hazelnuts, then pile in a big heap on to a suitable serving dish. Drizzle the remaining hazelnut oil over the top, then garnish with the rest of the mint and nuts.

If you're planning on serving it cold, wait for the lentil and celeriac mixture to cool down, taste again, then make a final adjustment to the seasoning. Add the rest of the hazelnut oil, the mint and the nuts just as you do when serving it hot. 

Say It With Biscuits

I don’t know about you, but for the past two days I’ve basically been lying prostrate on the sofa recovering from this year’s food-centric festivities. As always, I decided to take an all-or-nothing approach to Christmas eating, apart from without the nothing bit. Mince pie? Why not! A pint of custard to wash it down with? Naturally. How about a brandy-cream chaser? Oh go on then, I’ve earned it. And repeat, ad nauseam.

And so it is with great, unmovable girth that I gaze at the list of thank-you cards I must write. My fingers are practically too fat to type, let alone grasp a pen. But what’s this? A solution! A delicious, sugary solution! Biscuiteers is an online, London-based company (although they deliver all over the world) that specialises in – you guessed it – biscuits. Not just any old HobNob mind you: expertly hand-decorated and extremely moreish, it’s best to think of them as a very British alternative to New York’s now ubiquitous death-by-icing cupcake. 

With an exceptionally chic range of collections to choose from, including handbags, heels and poodles, they make the perfect present for anybody who likes to receive surprise sugar-fixes in gift-wrapped tins (i.e. everyone). They also do brilliant biscuit cards, delivered with a personal message. Forget January detoxes, what could be better than brightening someone’s day by saying thanks with one of these deluxe digestives? 

www.biscuiteers.com

Colour Me Creuset

Today signalled a scary new stage in my life: I chose kitchenware over clothes. Intending to scour the Selfridges sale in the hope of finding some inappropriately jazzy shoes that wouldn’t go with anything, I instead found myself hypnotically heading towards the home department. Once there, said jazzy shoes skipped – or more likely, staggered - straight out of my mind, for across the room I saw the glazed gleam of Le Creuset's rainbow-bright pots and pans, and above them, significantly, a sign: 20% off. Jackpot!

Le Creuset’s cast iron cookware is the stuff of foodie-cum-fashionista dreams. Founded in France in 1925, the signature burnt orange shade of enamel originally used has since been expanded into an array of to-die-for colours, including a rich cherry red, a deep plum and their latest, a darkly glittering midnight blue. With such a delectable selection of shades, I can't help but think of them as the big brother to that other delightful French institution, the macaroon.

Spot le difference:

 

But Le Creuset is no mere foodie fad: its extortionately priced products make for true investments. To create each piece the melted materials must first be encased within an individual mould, which is then cracked open after casting, the enamel hand-finished by French artisans. With that kind of heritage behind their products, it’s no wonder Le Creuset's reassuringly hefty casserole dishes are the hallmark of a well kitted-out kitchen - they seem to shine with effortless culinary prowess. 

So it was with great excitement that I embarked upon my first Le Creuset investment. Resisting the ridiculously cute heart-shaped ramekins, I went for a utensils jar and a dinky oven dish, both in a beautiful sea-blue shade of teal. Not exactly flash enough to cook up a Julia Child-style banquet with, but it’s a start - and given the brand’s reputation for lasting a lifetime, at least I can take my time building up the collection - one Christmas list at a time...

 

 

www.lecreuset.co.uk

Turkish Delights

Mosaic-embellished tables, palatial pillows and sequin-covered walls: only Karl Lagerfeld possesses the kind of can-do attitude to decorating that ensures such spectacular scenes as this at every Chanel runway. This time the stage was set for the Pre-Fall 2011 Métier d'Arts show, which celebrated the opening of a second Chanel boutique in Istanbul with a ‘Paris Byzance’ collection that more than mirrored the splendour of its shimmering surroundings.

Being Chanel, of course the whole collection was brilliant. But my, oh my, the jewellery. The clothes were dripping with beautiful, sultan-worthy bling - gem-encrusted headbands, sprawling filigree necklaces and starburst brooches, gloriously offset against a palette of deep, dark black. In a word, stunning. 

The OTT grandeur of these accessories strikes right at the heart of historical Istanbul. The city is steeped in an old-world opulence where in some areas it’s hard to avoid bumping into Ottoman landmarks like the mosaic-strewn Hagia Sophia or the glittering treasury of the Topkapi Palace. It's there in the food too - in particular, Turkey's long-held love affair with sugar. Putting aside commercialised sugar-fixes like Cadbury's chocolate or Chupa Chups, there’s something entirely exotic about the East's irrepressible sweet tooth. Sugar was once prized by the Ottomans as a luxury product and valuable trading tool, and that reverence can still be tasted in Istanbul's signature dishes - so much so that I felt on the verge of self-induced hyperglycaemia during a trip there last week. 

Try baklava for example, those crisp little bites of layered pastry soaked with honey into a soft and syrupy chewiness, washed down with a cup of sweet, short and dark Turkish coffee. Or step into the Spice Bazaar, an Aladdin’s cave of confectionary where shopkeepers sell with sugar as well as words, proffering free glasses of nectarous apple tea whilst prices are haggled over frosted piles of Turkish Delight and jewel-bright dried apricots. Even the smoke-filled shisha cafés come scented with the heady sweetness of cherry and apple tobacco. It's a deliciously cloying and utterly indulgent way of eating, and feels a whole lot chicer than chomping on a Curly Wurly. Sugar anoints every corner of Istanbul, an ancient flavour fixed within the city’s increasingly modern surroundings, and seeing Chanel's East meets West, gold against black collection, I feel like I've been taken right back there. 

Breakfast of Champions

As any mother or sponsored sporting champion will tell you, breakfast is the most important meal of the day. To say I agree with this is an almighty understatement. I worship at the altar of breakfast. For me, there’s nothing better than getting the ball rolling with some porridge, made with soya milk and sprinkled with linseed and a pinch or three of salt. And even if that makes me sound like a Gillian McKeith crazy, it really is very delicious – although when pressed, I’d probably prefer a bowl of Coco Shreddies, shoved in the microwave until steaming hot and slurpable.

The rise and shine of breakfast is buoyant with promise: a new day, a clean slate of calories to consume. Start with fruit and huzzah, how healthy you are! And also, double huzzah, that means you can have a KitKat later too. Accidentally inhale six rounds of buttered toast and jam? Ah well, you can make amends at lunch with a stick of celery or something - anything is forgivable in the first light of morning.

Just as you can judge a person by their choice of breakfast (cereal bar eaters, that's aimed at you), so is it an excellent litmus test for when you're travelling. The easiest way to get a feel for a place is to take a look at what it eats first thing. In L.A. it’s an egg-white omelette. In Florida, a four-egg omelette with a side order of pancakes. Go to Japan and you’ll wake up to grilled eel and miso soup. And Britain? A schizophrenic split between a polite saucer of cornflakes and a Full English fry-up. 

Happily, I’ve recently discovered someone who shares my obsession with morning meals. Simply Breakfast, a photo blog by Jennifer Causey, is pure bliss to browse through. Every dish is beautifully composed on warped wood tables in an unashamedly kitsch manner, all printed tea towels and mismatched farmers' market crockery. Perfect for a little mid-morning eye candy, although beware of second-breakfast cravings. Hey ho, there’s always elevenses...

A few of my favourites:

http://simplybreakfast.blogspot.com/

Kitchen Confidential

Watching Nigella Lawson’s new BBC series is like foreplay for your inner fatty. Who doesn't enjoy seeing her tiptoe down to the fridge in the middle of the night, chow down a slice of peanut-butter cheesecake and then slink back upstairs to sleep, all whilst alluringly wrapped in a silk dressing gown and looking like a 1950s screen siren? Her ability to be at once both greedy and glamorous is undeniably engaging. 

What appeals about Nigella is not her food, although it always does look very delicious, but the delight she takes in cooking and eating it. The orgasmic eye rolls, the button-bursting voluptuousness of those cashmere twinsets and her fondness for tasting sauces with a saucily dipped finger are all so satisfying to behold. And beyond this wonderful watchability it’s her language, the pre-prandial pillow talk, which really seals the deal.

Tune into an episode of Nigella Kitchen and listen, just LISTEN to how she wallows in words! Such smut! Every utterance is rolled rapturously around the tongue, sounding as plentiful as her plate. Not for Nigella the straight and narrow of the metric system: she measures in dollops, drops, handfuls and heaped spoonfuls, conjures up golden, glistening and silky sauces and feasts gleefully upon self-named recipes such as “Slut’s Spaghetti” (yes, really).

Such prose aims deeper than Jamie Oliver’s pukka proclamations – Nigella really seems to feel the flavours, and rather poetically too. Her black squid ink risotto for example, a recipe taken from a favourite Oscar Wilde novel, reminds her of a “primeval soup” that “smells of the sea, like some deep experience long ago”. Half of the pleasure she finds in food is through describing it, and it’s this delayed gratification, the lingering love letter she writes to each dish before devouring it that makes living - well, eating - vicariously through her so effortlessly enjoyable. 

How was it for you?

L'Artisan du Chocolat

Following on from yesterday’s sweet versus savoury debate, here’s something that combines the best of both worlds: L’Artisan du Chocolat’s N^o9 Salted Caramels with lemongrass. Buy them for me (not that that’s a hint or anything) and most likely I'll give you a quick yet emotional hug of gratitude and then RUN AWAY and eat them all to myself, such is their power.

Originally created for Gordon Ramsay’s at Claridges, these mouth-watering little marbles have since been expanded into a range of gastro-friendly flavours like balsamic vinegar, spiced fig and pink pepper, and believe me, lemongrass is the best. A muffled dusting of dark-chocolate cocoa powder explodes as you bite into the oozing liquid caramel centre, sweet yet chastened with sea salt. And then! The lemongrass! That little zesty note adds just the right amount of fizz to an already amazing mini mouthful. I defy you not to eat at least three at once. Or ten. Just me?

And they’ve used my namesake N^o9 to label them – it was definitely meant to be.

P.S. I’ve just noticed a new ‘coming soon’ flavour on the L’Artisan du Chocolat website for Kinako, i.e. roasted ground soybean. Be still my beating heart.

Sweetness and Light

Don’t try and deny it: every girl likes sweet, pretty things in sweet, pretty boxes - especially if it involves macaroons. And yeah, I adore those darn delicious little confections too, mainly because you can get away with calling them ridiculous colours like ‘iced mint’ and ‘petal pink’ and oh I don’t know, ‘Bird's custard yellow’, which is a wonderfully indulgent exercise for any writer.

But what’s even better than sweet and pretty? SAVOURY and pretty! Nothing is more pleasing than eating something visually delightful that isn’t dessert. There’s none of that predictable sugariness you get with cakey creations where they taste exactly like what they look like, all pastel and perfect. With savoury, a plate of prettiness is balanced by unexpected, opposing flavours that are far more satisfying than a syrupy end. So I'd take a box of Gion sushi over macaroons any day of the week. 

Let me explain.

In Tokyo, the sushi is BIG: fat rolls of nigiri are served with surprise smears of wasabi hidden between the tongues of fish and just-warm rice. They are of course amazing, but unless you can master the native trick of biting them in half without the whole turning into a ricey rubble then the only way to eat them is all in one, down the hatch and hope for the best. So you stuff your face with this sushi and feel really, really greedy but also really, really happy because it is all so DELICIOUS. But by gahd, it’s so not pretty. 

In Kyoto however, sushi is an altogether more elegant affair. In order for geisha to remain the most delicate and lovely creatures ever created (god help them), sushi evolved in the geisha district of Gion to perfectly fit their tiny, painted mouths. Here you are presented with a wooden box, inside of which you discover 12 beautiful, bite-sized pieces of temari sushi, where soft slices of pearlescent bream and crimson tuna have been wrapped around little spheres of rice. Pop one in your mouth like an infinitely more wonderful Lindor truffle and you can relish it without the rice making a run for it down your chin. The fresh, fleshy fish and pretty-as-a-patisserie presentation come together perfectly as one, yin and yang. Bliss.

Temari sushi in Gion: they probably don't do takeout

So beat that, bonbons and biscuits and cupcakes and cookies. Go suck on some sushi instead.

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