The cannolis are lined up in rows on my countertop: vanilla, chocolate, custard, and strawberries and cream.
The only thing left to do is take the final set of biscuits out of the oven and let them cool down. I’ve made six different batches. I reckon Laura will love the ones with Mint Aero pieces. And I’ve put chunks of Lion bar in a batch especially for Pete. If you can’t use your friends as guinea pigs, what can you use them for?
The oven timer goes and I put on my new extra long oven gloves (no more burns!) and take the tray out and rest it on the side.
Twenty minutes till the biscuits are ready for lift off, and the doorbell goes. My guests have arrived.
Today I woke up at 6.30am to a blue sky, went for a twenty minute run, then came home, showered and put on jeans and my favourite t-shirt. I walked to work and arrived at the office half an hour early. Maggie’s given me my own set of keys, and I let myself in, made a pot of tea in her gorgeous red Liberty teapot, and sat at my new desk!
It’s going to be a busy day. I need to finalise which versions of my new biscuits I put out to market first. I have 18 recipes that are all working well, and I want to launch with no more than a dozen.
Will’s been amazing. He knows so much about so many things. He’s been helping me out on packaging, distribution, and how to extend the softness of the biscuits without compromising taste or texture. My biscuits will have a good life – at least four days – and I think they’ll do well as gifts if I can get the branding and the name right. So far I’ve been through Bliss-cuits, Biscuits Deluxe, Choco-maniacs and The Little Venice Biscuit Boutique; I don’t like any of those enough. I’m toying with naming them after my grandma and putting an illustration of her hand holding a wooden spoon on the packaging. I think she’d approve.
On the cannolis, I need to find a way of making the strawberries and cream version 20% cheaper, and fast. If I can launch with such a classic British flavour while it’s still summer, I know I can get great PR. Plus, I really want to try layering dark chocolate on the inside of the custard cannoli, but that’ll have to wait till tomorrow.
Maggie can only afford to pay me half of what I was on at Fletchers, but I’ll take home 80% of the profit on all my products and if things go well, she’ll make me a partner in a year or two. Who knows, in five years maybe I’ll be able to buy my own Maserati.
You know what? I’d much rather walk.
Epilogue
Turns out time’s a decent healer. One year on, and it gets easier every day. James is now just a series of small scars: stretch marks. They’ll fade but they’ll never disappear. I’m learning to like them. They’re a part of me – a reminder that I’ve grown.
I thank the universe for giving me such patient, generous friends who have stood by me through thick and thin. That’s what Pete used to call James and me in the dark days, ‘thick and thin’.
I love my new job.
I’ve been off the happy pills for three months. I’ve gone from rock bottom to rock steady in the last year. It hurt like hell. I never thought it would pass, but it has.
I run for twenty minutes, three mornings a week. If I do this, I can eat whatever I like within reason (just not apricots). I never look at calories, I never weigh myself. I never want to go for that run, but I’m always glad afterwards – not for what it does for my thighs, but for what it does for my head.
If Will’s down at mine for the weekend, he’ll tell me to have a lie-in, not be so ridiculous, and that I’m perfect just the way I am.
If I’m at his place in Sheffield, I’ll sit up in bed and pretend I’m about to put on my trainers. Me, go running in a city built on seven hills? Never.
Nonetheless, he’ll race to the kitchen and start frying some bacon: works every time. Will’s a clever man.
And he’s a grown-up. And he’s funny and sexy and hard-working and generous. Above all, he is kind.
And that is what I want.
I saw James tonight in Soho. He didn’t see me. I was with Pete on my way to get a burrito and as we walked past The Crown, there he was with Rob, standing outside, drinking a pint, chatting up a couple of girls. The girls were giggling at something Rob had said, and I could sense Rob was about to swoop in for the kill.
James was wearing the blue shirt he wore on our second date, and he was smiling his beautiful smile.
I remembered how happy I used to feel, waking up to that smile.
And for the longest moment my heart paused.
But my legs kept on moving.
Food in the book
If you like cooking, you might like to try some of the recipes for food mentioned in Pear-Shaped.
Compost Cookies
The most exciting to make, in that they are different every time, are Compost Cookies. The recipe can be found in Momofuku Milkbar by Christina Tosi, which is available on Amazon USA and is worth the wait/extra cost for postage. On my blog, stellanewmansblog.blogspot.com, you’ll find a few tips on how to minimise the chances of messing up the recipe (I’ve made these cookies four times with varying results: always delicious but sometimes too flat.) In the book you’ll also find the recipe for Crack Pie, which is only slightly better for you than Crack Without The Pie, but more socially acceptable.
Orange and Almond Cake
Claudia Roden is a brilliant, inspiring and influential writer and The Book of Jewish Food is one of my top ten cookbooks of all time. You will never be bored with a chicken if you own this book. Her Orange and Almond cake recipe (Sophie cooks it for Maggie Bainbridge in her original job interview) can be found here, and also in her Book of Middle Eastern Food.
Ottolenghi’s Chargrilled Broccoli with Chilli and Garlic; and Apple and Sultana Cake
Both these recipes can be found in Ottolenghi, the first of his books, which will have you dribbling over the pages.
The broccoli, as the book rightly points out, is a ‘destination’ dish – people go there especially to eat it. I’ve made it at home and it is labour intensive but entirely satisfying and worth the effort.
The cake is called Apple and Olive Oil Cake with Maple Icing in the book – and to tell you the truth I’ve never made it, as I’m lazy and just buy it from his shop.
Custard
I have not referenced a recipe for custard, largely due to the existence of M&S Thick and Creamy Custard – my custard of choice.* Made with creamy Channel Island milk and Madagascan bourbon vanilla, it is entirely thick, pale, luscious and vanilla-y, and scattered with little black dots of vanilla, like stars. I do think life’s too short to make your own custard when custard like this exists. I usually eat it cold, straight from the pot, or cold with a hot crumble.
In the event of an apocalypse, my greatest ‘DOH!’ moment wouldn’t be that I’d neglected to learn how to start a fire, divine water, or build a basic shelter. I’d regret never having become self-sufficient in the art of replicating this custard.
Toast and cream cheese
I have no idea what avocado on cream cheese on toast tastes like. All I can vouch for is that if you like 1980s-style fruit cheesecakes, you will probably like jam on cream cheese on toast. My personal favourites are raspberry, then strawberry, then apricot jam, spread on toast that already has full fat Philadelphia on it. (Not all three jams at once, that is merely my order of preference.)
I do not believe in lesser fat versions of Philadelphia. I have, in my time, been content enough with Philadelphia Light, but when you return to the mother ship of full fat, you will realise they are ultimately incomparable, and if you’re going to eat cream cheese, you might as well eat real cream cheese.
A word on brownies…
Much like Sophie, I believe that an average brownie is worse than none at all.
I’m not convinced by any of the commercial British brownie brands-and trust me, I’ve done some research … The best brownie I’ve eaten in the UK is in a pub in London called The Old White Bear in Hampstead (unlike Sophie I did not eat it with my fists.) It is intensely
squidgy, dark and rich – neither cakey nor floury, with no distractions. It is entirely to the point, and is served warm with something good on the side – crème fraiche or ice cream.
Ottolenghi’s are good, in that they’re insanely rich – BUT – they contain nuts, and I am one of those people who considers finding a nut in a brownie almost akin to finding a tooth in a brownie: in the words of Ned Flanders, wrong-diddly-ong.
In New York, there is a fabulous brownie brand called ‘Fat Witch’ – which has a very cute illustration of, yes, a fat witch, on the label. I love this brand, partly because I have been called a witch on several occasions in my life – mostly not as a compliment – but I took it as such regardless. And also because it is a brave and brilliant move to use the word ‘fat’ on a brownie, rather than, say, ‘skinny’. Fat Witch – I salute you.
Fat Witch do lots of varieties of brownie. I like the classic, but also the Caramel Witch too. Americans generally tend to like things pretty sweet, but Fat Witch doesn’t over-sugar.
But the best brownies are, I think, home-made. On my blog you will see some postings about my experiments in brownie-making. I favour Nigella and Nigel Slater’s approach, but there are so many opposing schools of thought on what a brownie ‘should’ be, it’s worse than some religions.
I dream of running a brownie business one day. Writing is a solitary and often lonely endeavour. I imagine that making and selling brownies, while equally labour-intensive, would suit me quite well. Do me a favour: google ‘Stella Newman’ and ‘brownies’ about once a year, for the next five years. If I ever do manage to build my brownie empire – a) then you will know about it, and b) if you still have a copy of this book, you will be entitled to a free deluxe brownie of your choice!
A few of my favourite things…
The following is an overview of some places I like to eat in my two favourite cities, London and New York. I’ve listed specific dishes but it doesn’t mean I don’t like other things on the menu – it just means I’m a creature of habit/on a limited word count.
LONDON
The London food scene seems to be getting better and better all the time. From farmer’s markets to Michelin superstars, Londoners have more choice than ever of gastronomic delights.
At heart I am all about the cheap eat. While I’d never say no to a meal at Le Gavroche (set lunch = excellent value considering the quality of the food, plus it includes half a bottle of beautiful wine) – I am never happier than when I’m eating something delicious that costs a tenner or less. Simple things done well – that is a t-shirt I’d wear, along with Team Aniston, and one with a picture of Alec Baldwin’s face on it. I love Alec Baldwin so bad it hurts, but more of that in my second novel.
So, in no particular order:
Fitou, 1-3 Dalgarno Gardens, W10 (near Wormwood Scrubs prison. Glamourama…)
This is probably my favourite restaurant in London. It is totally cheap and cheerful, hard to spend more than about £15 a head even if you’re being a total pig (it’s BYO) – but most importantly the food is outstanding. I once saw the Prime Minister here, but don’t hold that against the place if you’re not a fan.
Starters: Fish Cakes, Papaya Salad – super super spicy, not for the faint hearted.
Mains: Gaeng Penang chicken – a really thick, hot red coconutty curry with lime leaves and fresh chillies, again super spicy and addictive.
Pad See Ew: stir fried broad rice noodles with eggs and green vegetables in a thick soy sauce. A perfect combination of soft, crunch, salt, almost sweet and above all tasty.
Coconut rice – sets off the spicy chicken curry perfectly.
St John – Smithfields, Spitalfields, and others
Most people love St John because of the whole nose to tail eating thing. They rave about the trotters, or whisper sweet nothings about chewing on a pig’s ear. Well I’ll admit it. I’m scared of offal. I like liver, but anything more adventurous and I fold.
There are two reasons why I like St John so much, and neither of them have anything to do with soft tissue:
The Custard Donut of the Gods. They serve these at the Spitalfields branch during a brief window, only on a Sunday morning and now at their Bermondsey bakery, only on a Saturday morning. When I first ate one of these donuts I became obsessed. Thick, dense, Madagascan vanilla custard, injected into the crispest, lightest donut casing. If I ever become really rich and move to the South of France, I will, like Elvis with his peanut butter, bacon and banana sandwiches at the Colorado Mine Company, fly back to Bermondsey on my private jet just for a taste of one of these.
Welsh Rarebit. The opposite of adventurous I know. But really really great Welsh Rarebit. Goes back to A Simple Thing Done Well. It helps that St John make some of the finest bread in London. On top of their white sandwich loaf they put a combination of Neal’s Yard Montgomery cheddar, Guinness, Lea & Perrins, Coleman’s mustard and a touch of cayenne. Savoury, salty, tangy, melting perfection.
Ottolenghi, Upper Street N1 and various
Every thing I’ve ever eaten here has been perfectly executed and I’ve eaten almost everything. Come for breakfast, lunch or a cake – dinner if it’s payday. Ottolenghi uses herbs and spices so brilliantly that he elevates an ingredient as prosaic as broccoli into something stellar. The food looks magnificent and bounteous and tastes better than it looks.
My Ottolenghi rules of engagement:
If you go to the Upper Street branch at the weekend, go EARLY or expect to queue forever.
Do not take a boyfriend whom there is any danger of you splitting up with at a subsequent date. You do not want to scar Ottolenghi with the sadness of happy memories.
But do go there with at least one other person, so you can try all their salads, and their cake (and, I suppose, vice versa …)
If you order bread, make sure you get cornbread in the selection – spicy, crumbly and slightly sweet – utterly delicious.
The broccoli is better than any broccoli you’ve ever had anywhere. Ditto the butternut squash, ditto anything with green beans, ditto the granola, home-made nutella and jams. Their banana jam made me un-hate bananas, temporarily.
Take a cake home for someone you love – including yourself. I can think of no greater expression of appreciation and affection than something sweet in a white paper bag from Ottolenghi.
C&R café, Rupert Court, W1
This is the sort of place I’d walk straight past if I didn’t know not to. It’s garishly lit, in a crappy alley in Soho, and shows no indication of its greatness – other than an occasional queue. A word of warning – do not let them seat you in the basement if you have a sensitive nose and don’t like the smell of toilets.
C&R’s strengths are soups and noodle dishes – every time I’ve strayed from these I’ve regretted it. (Except for the roti canai side dish – a light, buttery Malaysian bread served with a searingly hot spicy dipping sauce – an essential starter, whatever you’re ordering for your main.)
The greatest dish on the menu is the Singapore Laksa – by far the best of its kind I’ve had in London. A spicy coconut milk broth, with chunks of chicken, prawn, tofu, noodles and other floating wonders – it is a truly satisfying one-bowl soup meal. Some folk struggle to finish the generous portion but not for want of trying.
NEW YORK
I love New York for its energy, for its buildings, for its people, but most of all for its food. Everything changes so quickly in New York that it’s impossible to keep up with what’s hot and what’s not. Regardless, I tend to eschew fashionable restaurants anyway as they’re often more about the scene than what’s coming out of the kitchen. (Incidentally isn’t eschew an odd word? So strange.)
Corner Bistro, 331 West 4th Street
While there’s always at least a handful of new contenders every year for the position of Number 1 burger in town, my favourite will always be the cheeseburger at Corner Bistro. It’s no frills, you’ll have to queue, and there’s nothing innovative or modern about it – and that
’s why I love it. Beef that tastes of beef, the perfect thickness of patty, the perfect-dimensioned bun, the golden ratio of bun to beef to cheese. It satisfies one’s deepest caveman longings for beef, and doesn’t embarrass itself by trying to introduce foolishness such as ‘boiled egg’ or ‘beetroot’ into the equation, like some other burgers I could mention …
Num Pang, 21 East 12th Street
A tiny Cambodian sandwich bar close to Union Square, with a succinct menu of delicious food. The absolute all-star winning sandwich is the hoisin meatball with basil, stewed tomatoes and Num Pang’s signature chili mayo. Like all their sand wiches, it comes served with cucumber, pickled carrots, coriander and chili mayo, on fresh white bread from Parisi Bakery down in Little Italy. It is the best sandwich I’ve ever eaten – spicy, sweet, crunchy, soft, piquant and fresh.
Rocco’s, 243 Bleeker Street
Avoid the tourist queues at Magnolia’s – I never understand what all the fuss about cupcakes is anyway – and head further down Bleeker Street to Rocco’s for a cannoli. Perfect crunchy crispy cigars, stuffed with thick ricotta cream and chocolate chips – again, there’s something very perfect about the dimensions and proportions of Rocco’s cannolis, which might explain why it’s been a West Village favourite for decades.
Momofuku Milk Bar, 251 East 13th Street
David Chang’s cookie shop in the East Village is always on my to-do list whenever I visit New York. Try and go on the final day you’re in town, so that you can take back cookies for friends and family alike – they last at least 4 days – that is if you don’t eat them all on the plane / the Heathrow Express / walking up the stairs to your front door …
Obviously the Compost Cookie is a must, but the chocolate-chocolate cookie is so salty, fudgy and dark you almost feel like you’re in the middle of it. And make room for a slice of Crack Pie, as above. Be warned – it’s named Crack Pie for a reason, folks …
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