Little joys {January}

Feeding the soul in the coldest month

Two hundred years later and it’s finally February.

I’m elated to see the back of January. It went on forever. I tried to embrace it, I really did - as I packed away my bauble collection, dusted off my work laptop and picked my way past endless abandoned Christmas trees (LEFT FOR DEAD) on every pavement corner, I had a firm word with myself about making good of the first month of the year.

I love the idea of hunkering down, of revelling in the delicious shortage of social plans, of decluttering my house and using the time to work on new projects - but it’s still the month I find hardest. I love a stark wintery landscape, but the truth is I rarely get a chance to enjoy it - back to the grind, long working days are totally bereft of natural light, and after the joy, busy-ness and warmth of Christmas, it’s hard not to let the cold seep in a little.

But we got through it, the days are getting longer, and suddenly I can feel the faintest whiff of spring in the air. On my run round Clissold Park this morning the ponds were free of their icy hub caps, the swans were back from wherever they’ve been hiding and the paths were suddenly flecked with early daffodils bulbs and sunny little crocuses.

Luckily, I was able to find plenty of little joys to lift my mood this month. Here are the things I ate, did and read that you might enjoy too.

Restaurants

Most of my PR career has been in restaurants, and while I don’t currently manage any of their reputations, I simply cannot keep away. Dining out, despite being a big part of my job for the past decade, never stops feeling special, and the buzz and feeling of belonging and shared experience that a good restaurant creates is difficult to find in other places.

January saw me add a few new spots to my list. I enjoyed what I can only describe as a perfect mid-week lunch at Toklas, which opened last year. The menu walks that hard to find line of being simple, elegant yet also familiar. I wanted to eat everything on it, was intrigued by certain combinations, and didn’t have to google any enigmatic ingredient names under the table (it still happens!).

From the moment the side salad arrived - a towering, generous tumble of palest pink radicchio - they were in my confidence, and everything we ate was, as Marina O’Loughlin described it, ‘untweezery’, which is just what I’m after for a Thursday lunch with a friend. The space is also perfectly pitched, which is not a huge surprise given its owners are also the founders of Frieze magazine and art fairs. The chef (Yohei Furuhashi) is ex-River Cafe, and it was a delight to eat his seasonal fare without having to sell a kidney to foot the bill.

I also finally made it to Bubala in Soho, which also opened last year. The Middle Eastern menu is vegetarian, but this feels more by coincidence than design - and that is one of the highest complements I can pay to meat-free dining, which doesn’t always come off so effortlessly. Everything we ate was delicious, although the charred oyster mushrooms with tamari, coriander seed and agave were a particular highlight. The menu had a pleasing aesthetic too - crudité, usually rather sad looking slices of carrot and cucumber, came in the form of magenta sliced watermelon radishes, ready to be dunked in thick labneh with confit garlic and za’atar.

Other debuts included the much hyped Saltie Girl in Mayfair, born in LA but cleverly London-ified for its first site in town. They won me over the moment I spotted shrimp cocktail on the menu, a truly perfect starter that fell victim to the 70s and is yet to fully recover the excellent reputation it deserves. Their signature ‘tin list’ is also a very cute touch.

I also managed to ride on the coat tails of my friend Sheils and escape the city for a weekend away at Coworth Park. A total dream of a getaway, with dinner at the hotel’s new restaurant, Woven, a particular highlight. I know who to blame if I can’t get into my wedding dress next month.

January also brought me back to an old favourites, Kin + Deum, a regular haunt of mine when I lived in the area. Head there for exemplary Thai food shaped by the melting pot of hyper-regional influences found in Bangkok’s heady food scene. We somehow got in without a booking (thank you, January), but usually there’s no chance of that. We also popped for a mooch around Borough Market, where I grabbed some ‘leafy clems’ (my heart) from Turnips and a white amo at my favourite Monmouth Coffee.

Secondhand shopping

Anyone who’s followed me over on Instagram for a while has already been subjected to my awkward pivot into outfits of the day, which I share mainly because I’m a woman who enjoys the occasional selfie, but also because I love sharing my second hand shopping successes. I’m trying to move away from buying new, instead scratching my shoppers itch with pre-loved choices.

For anyone who’s interested, I’m planning a standalone newsletter on where I shop secondhand, from charity shops to Vinted, Depop and vintage. For now, here’s a few of my cute second hand ‘fits in Jan.

Reading

I’m still struggling to sink back into reading. It seems to be the sole preserve of holidays, but I’m hoping to work on that this year.

I’ve been enjoying One More Croissant For The Road by Felicity Cloake, although more for the breakfasts and her wonderful wordsmanship than for the cycling, which I will never be convinced is worth the effort. Felicity’s ‘perfect’ column in The Guardian’s FEAST (formerly COOK) magazine inspired a lot of my early interest in food when I first lived in London, and it’s refreshing to dive into the history of it as well as the making of it.

Here on Substack, I’ve been enjoying Sue Quinn’s new newsletter, Pen and Spoon. Her latest look at why cookbook writing is a brutal business was familiar reading, and helpful for anyone who thinks they might have a cook in them somewhere. A hint - it’s not for the faint hearted, and it’s actually very hard to make a living writing them! I’ve also been devouring all of David Lebovitz’s posts and, I’ll admit, attempting to manifest a situation in which I am in Paris in the very near future.

And outside the food world, I gobbled up this thread on Twitter which shared 40 pieces of poignant advice from 90+ year olds on the writer’s 32nd birthday. So much wisdom and perspective. My favourite is this:

The “good old days” are happening right now.

Just the advice I needed to lift me out of my January funk. Here’s another one to close things off. I did this a few weeks ago on a particularly blue day, and finished the minute in rib shattering, utterly hysterical laughter.

When you’re feeling down, smile at yourself in the mirror for a full minute.