On fire

My work party last night was filled with cheesy music and chessy food and was good fun but as it started so early (6.30) and as it was just on our roof terrace it was tempting to keep nipping back to our desks to check email, which most of my team did. So when M called around 7.30 and said he was in a cab and should we go out, I said why not. A store next to M&S on Oxford Street was on fire so we turned down Wardour Street and turned into Italian Graffiti. We started with calamari fritti, which had a delectably light batter. Then M had a Napoletana pizza with just the right depth of base and with extra anchovies. I had a bocconi giganti al pesto - parcels filled with pesto and ricotta. Not as good as the pizza, and a little on the small side, but nice enough.


The glutton that I am, I was still hungry afterwards so we popped into Yauatcha on Broadwick Street for a bag of kumquat and matcha macarons and two small cakes: fraise tabda for me and yuzu for him. Yauatcha desserts always come in such pretty boxes (above). We ate the desserts at home watching the sexy Lower City on DVD - the story of a love triangle between friends Deco and Naldinho and stripper Karinna in the steamy underworld of the Brazilian port of Salvador de Bahia.