LondonZest & the Chocolate Factory

Not being a total chocolate addict like other people women I know, I've never really understood what the fuss is all about. I've always had more of a savoury tooth myself, so it goes without saying that I kind of remained stoic when my friend yanked me by the hand to go check out the Brit-born chocolate shop, Rococo, on King's Road. It's funny. I guess when some of us need that daily choc fix, I get mine from a bag of Kettle S&V crisps. I'm not one to order the chocolate cake for dessert. I'm never one to binge on an entire chocolate bar at the 3pm mark at the office. I enjoy a Ferrero Rocher once in a while but it doesn't send me to the moon. But these are different, she said. Cross my heart, she promised me, once you go Rococo, you never go back. She stared at me, wide-eyed and concerned, as if I were a leper, or missing out on one of life's most heavenly gifts. Perhaps I was.

I walked into the shop with low expectations and no appetite at all, after scarfing down a copious brunch at the diner next door, and walking around all morning in 30 degree heat emanating from the city pavement. But all I had to do was open my eyes to the edible jewels around me, clear my nostrils and breathe in the lovely scent of rich cocoa, surrounding me left, right, and center and I was won over. Chocolates of all kinds found their way into my shopping basket, through no fault of my own; my friend is still in the doghouse for converting me to chocolateism; praline, hazelnut and gianduja; white, milk and dark; rich, light and crunchy, they just kept on creeping up on me.

And then it hit me. Wait a minute, could it be? I like chocolate!? And not any kind of chocolate. Not only is the packaging most delightful and authentic, but the quality is something to write home about. I even purchased an armful of bags of Unsweetened Scorched Almonds as gifts for future hosts, just because they are by far the most scrumpscious drops of low calorie heaven I have ever tasted and I think everyone I know should experience the same kind of joy I felt when biting into one of these. So now, you can have have your chocolate, and eat it too, and not have to worry about those hips. It's a win, win, win!

Rococo Chocolates

Chelsea: 321 Kings Road, SW3 5EP

Belgravia: 5 Motcomb Street, SW1X 8JU

Marylebone:45 Marylebone High Street, W1U 5HG

Prima Ballerinas

After I discovered the amazing shoe that is the Bloch ballet flat, I've been having trouble settling for anything else. I'm a tough crowd when it comes to the perfect ballet flat. In fact, when I am investing in a pair of flats, I follow a strict self-inflicted protocol. I think about the 4 following factors: value for money, comfort, timelessness and versatility. I am not one to spend over £180 on a pair (I will forever hold my breath at the sight of patent £300 Lanvin slippers but I will never succomb), and I consistently think about how many different outfits I can match them with. That's my policy, and it's worked so far, especially when safeguarding my loyalty to Bloch.

  Pretty Ballerinas, Pont Street, Belgravia

It's time to diversify that shoe rack, though. And I've been encouraged, better yet, urged, by a couple friends of mine to give this Menorquina brand a try. They are called Pretty Ballerinas and the UK flagship store resides in Belgravia, on Pont Street to be exact. A delightful location for a delightful shoe-shopping experience. Speaking of candy and cakes (see previous posts), the shelves and presentation of the shop resembles that of a candy store at the peak of the Christmas Holiday period. It's full of riches and treasures, waiting to be snagged. 

Leopard print flats, £140

Silver glitter flats, £110

And fair enough, celebrities have been spotted everywhere about town, sporting these adorable little  shoe gems. Claudia Schiffer, Lily Allen and Elle McPherson have all been seen wearing the latest models, patent red, black and leopard print, my favourite.

It's about time you realize Topshop and Zara make crappy shoes and you upgrade your shoe rack with a pair of shoe gems from Pretty Ballerinas.

The Bread Winners

Bread is underrated. Way underrated. I come from a region in France where baked goods, pastries and delicious flour-based goodies are part of our daily diet. Even when one diets, one never, NEVER, goes a day without a chunk of bread. Or a croissant. Or a quarter baguette plastered with nutella. Isn't it strange how that goes? We obsess over carbs and staying thin by cutting out all starches and sugars from what we eat. But why is it that French women are among the thinnest in Europe and yet, are able to eat and enjoy bread while everyone else stresses about protein and low-carb diets? Unfortunately, I fall under the category of girls who obsess. So when I'm dieting, which is never, I try and cut out the carbs. Needless to say, that never works. I love bread, and I could never live without it. So yeah, I'm a lost cause. I'm French but I think like an American. Too bad for my curves. I guess I'm gonna have to live with them. Blerg.

Baguette with Nutella, Goddam You, I love You

I'm pretty grateful though, since London is able to nourish me quite well in the bread department. Poilane Bakery on Elizabeth Street is part of a French chain of bakeries originating from Paris, on rue du cherche-midi, and making a name for its self through its fantastic quality dough and varieties of breads. It is said that Poilane almost miraculously survived (thanks to a lot of hard work, determination and a great quality product) the extremely fierce competition of industrial bread companies taking over the bread market a couple decades ago. After only having been around for 9 years in London, in the heart of elegant Belgravia, Poilane is thriving on this side of the English channel.

Poilane Bakery on Elizabeth Street, Belgravia

Princi Bakery on Wardour Street in Soho has me weak in the knees.  Not only are their sandwiches the best in the area, but the quality of the bread is destined to make you wish you were in Italy, under the warm rays of the Tuscan sun, breathing the scents of flour and yeast baking slowly in your nonna's oven. This bakery is the latest venture of the guy who brought us Wagamama and Hakkasan. To that guy, whoever he is, I will always be grateful. 

Princi Bakery on Wardour Street, Soho

Burger Mania

I miss New York. Especially right now, I miss New York. I miss the buildings, I miss the smells. I miss Central Park and I miss the leaves turning red. I miss my friends. I miss my favorite restaurants and  my favorite shops. I miss the pumpkin season. I miss Autumn. I miss the food. I miss my old flat. I miss the lower east side. I miss the people. Again, I miss the food. Yeah, I miss the food. A lot. I miss the burgers. I miss the Spotted Pig 's burger, I miss BLT's Burger , I miss The Corner Bistro's burger, I miss Shake Shack , I miss The Burger Joint at The Parker Meridien . Damn. I just miss those burgers. But why why why do I miss them so? It's not like I haven't been enjoying my fair share of burgers here in London. Or sunday roasts and fish n' chips. I mean, I've been to Byron, I've been to the Electric. Those were decent burger experiences. But for some reason, they just weren't good enough. They were good but they were not fantastic. I even caught myself several times comparing them to the New York burgers. Thinking about that one last burger I had at BLT, drooling over them in my thoughts, salivating a teeny bit into the corners of my mouth. Trying to remember why I ever left! In New York, it was kind of an obsession, finding the best burger in town. But that was how you did things there. You took part in the experience. You became a restaurant critic. And you blogged about it. I guess that's what I'm trying to achieve here right now, to no avail really. 

The point of this entry is not to bash London burgers. No no. On the contrary. I have decided to loudly voice my opinion of the best burger in town. And I'm ready to be hung. Flagellated. Tortured. I know, burgers are a topic of discussion that is very close to our hearts. So much so, that we may do things to each other we may end up regretting. So, let me just say, I come in peace. After countless burgers, after numerous tastings, I have found my favorite burger place in London. The Thomas Cubitt pub in Belgravia has me addicted to their burger. That's the truth ladies and gentlemen. London is back in the game and she is ready to fight for her right to burgerville. Last Saturday, I went again with a group of friends and we all had the burger. The look on every one's face was priceless. Oh My God. It was phenomenal. We all smiled. We were full of glee. The table went silent and we just ate, we devoured, we nibbled at every leftover piece on our plates. We wanted another one. It was just too good. Now let me also add that The Thomas Cubitt  on the adorable Elizabeth Street has been categorized in my book as a girl-friendly pub, which means that I give it a big thumbs-up for being clean, bright and full of cool people. In brief, all the more reason to go check it out. Order the burger and you'll forget everything I said about New York being better than London. That's a promise.

The Thomas Cubitt, Elizabeth Street, Belgravia