I’ve put myself on an enforced detox in that hope that I will see at least some changes in my body – no matter how tiny – when I take up my grueling thirty day pilates challenge next month.
It’s my own version of a detox whereby very dark chocolate is conveniently allowed as long as it contains over 70% cocoa solids, but otherwise means no booze, no dairy and no carbs, making it really very dull. It also makes going out for a good dinner pretty hard to do. Read More
As those of you that read Changmoh regularly will know by now, I am not overly domestic. Whilst this particular post won’t do much to enhance my image, either in or out of the kitchen, I can promise that once you’ve eaten what’s described below, there will be no turning back.
The rather dubious mixing methodology (read on) makes marmite toast so delicious, I feel confident we’ll soon see it gracing the menus at the myriad of toast shops that seem to have popped up all over the island almost overnight. Granted, kaya toast would still take pride of place but this could, and should, come a close second.
And it’s definitely not classed as cooking (even though I’m filing it, laughably, under the ‘recipes’ category). Read More
A trip to KL is not complete without a wander through the art deco confines of Central Market. It’s been modernised since my first visit, about ten years ago now, when it was a delicious jumble of traders and shops all paying a very low rent and selling beautiful things (as well as a healthy smattering of the not so beautiful) at unbelievably good prices. The renovation hasn’t ruined too much of the building’s character but shops are now tidier, rents higher and bargains fewer.
I’m in KL, very near KLCC – KL City Centre for the uninitiated – yet all I can hear is the gentle splash of fountains and bird song. Well, almost (truck rumbles past as I type).
We are here because H is working and I am skiving – a Dr. Hauschka project at Isetan yesterday helps to slightly justify it – and this time have eschewed the cold, corporate corridors of the big guns to stay in a surprisingly good value boutique gem whose name I still can’t pronounce properly. Read More
We missed the last race of the day when we went to Ascot, in the hope of beating at least some of the traffic heading from the racecourse into central London.
It was worth the sacrifice and we made good headway until the fast lane of the motorway was closed to make way for the car bearing none other than Her Majesty (who’d ditched the horse-drawn carriage she arrived in) back to Windsor castle. Here’s a glimpse of it as it whooshed past us:
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