Random things and a cautionary tale

This is a post of disparate, but very good things. Firstly, I wanted to tell you about these delicious chocolates that my sister bought for me from Artisan du Chocolat. Last time I was in London we went there for hot chocolate.

Photo credit: Artisan du Chocolat

We sat on their funny, squashy seats, marvelled at the lampshade that spans much of the room, explored the different chocolate options (you can pick two to go with your hot chocolate) and savoured the hot chocolate  (which is so rich it is a meal in its self), while both drawing and discussing room plans in my sister's notebook. So it brought back lots of lovely memories when she sent this beautiful box of Artisan du Chocolat chocolates to me last week as a birthday treat.

Not only are the individual chocolates beautifully decorated, but I particularly love that their packaging demonstrates such an appreciation of haberdashery, from the cloth label that secrues the inner papers, to the little button that fastens shut the thick white box that holds the chocolates.

You might remember that I mentioned the exhibition at the Foundling Museum here. I never did manage to get along to it, but my mother went and brought back a beautiful tin of postcards and a piece of fabric that had been reproduced from one of the original fabrics that a baby was left with. Even as a reproduction, it's an odd feeling to hold a piece of fabric that bears the pattern that would have had so many emotions and memories tied to it for someone.

Last night, faced with some sweet potatoes, spinach and a block of feta I knew that I wanted to turn them into a quiche, but wasn't quite sure how (it's a quiche that my favourite local cafe sells, but I was uncertain as to how to deal with the potatoes in this instance). A quick google search revealed a recipe from Cathy's Kitchen. It's not a conventional quiche in that it's without pastry (Cathy refers to it as 'crustless'), but it was utterly delicious, worked well and feels healthier than a traditional quiche inspite of the smothering of pine nuts and Parmesan on top. I emailed a link to the recipe to my sister, who raised the question: at what point does a 'quiche' become a 'bake' in the absence of pastry? I was unsure, but felt that the presence of a round dish retained its quiche status. Either way, it's definitely worth trying.

Have you read recently on the Oliver + S blog that they have started designing patterns for women? Such wonderful news. You can find the Sew Lisette blog for this range here. They are being produced under the Simplicity banner for maximum global coverage, which I think is fantastic. My one reservation about the utter fabulousness of this plan is that they have been designed around Simplicity's standard fit and sizing, which in my own experience invariably allows me to make something to wear that will resemble a potato sack. However, bearing in mind that Lisel tends to do things that are rather super and that the photos of the models wearing the garments on the Sew Lisette website look so very lovely, I'm feeling that I can't discount them until I've tried at least one...

Finally, a welcome to my newest advertiser, Backstitch, who incidentally, stock the delicious range of Oliver + S fabric (cotton and jersey!), as well as Tasia's wonderful new-to-the-UK Sewaholic patterns (I followed the sew along for the Pendrell blouse and am in awe of how this girl sews and her approach to starting a business).

Florence x

PS. While this is a post of random things, I thought that I might share with you the events of last Friday as a cautionary tale. This tale should be prefaced by the declaration that I have always held a firm belief that clothing pockets are entirely decorative things and that using them ruins the line of clothing, distorts the fabric and produces disturbing lumps. On Friday morning, not thinking about pockets at all, I decided that it may be easier for a small boy to keep his box-room a little tidier if a large bookshelf were provided, rather than just a small-to-middling sized one. Luckily, we had just such a thing in the garage where we keep our book overflow. As I knew that I'd be out there for some time unloading books from the shelves, I took the highly controversial step of placing my iPhone in my back jean pocket. It is this act of sartorial inelegance that almost certainly meant that I was later saved from thoroughly breaking myself and our house. After unloading the books and hauling the bookcase to the bottom of the stairs I realised that it was a little heavier and more cumbersome than anticipated, but I decided that sliding the bookcase up the stairs on its smooth top would mean that getting it up to the small one's room was still possible. So I slid it up, shouldering the top of the book case near the top end, increasingly aware that it was proving more difficult than expected. But it was only when I reached the top of the stairs where one must turn a tight corner before going up the last few steps that I realised my plan may have a fundamental problem: in that no amount of hoisting could make the bookshelf turn the corner. It was with much alarm that I also quickly realised that I was now finding the bookshelf so heavy that if I tried to slide it back down again it would take me with it...so I found myself stuck near the top of the stairs, supporting the weight of a bookcase, unable to go up or down.

Let this be a lesson to you that if you are thinking of doing something that a small part of you knows is likely to be unsafe at the outset, it is a very wise precaution to arm yourself with a phone so that you can place SOS calls to husband/mama/any other key-holder, who may laugh at you when they unlock the door and behold the sight at the top of the stairs, but at least you will be alive to sew another day. The even wiser person would wait until someone was on hand to help move the bookcase, but that's the option for patient people. My suggestion works for all sorts. (It should be said that I am most thankful to the heroine of the story, who abandoned her bowl of hot porridge, leapt into her car and was at her daughter's side in less than 20 minutes).