Tuesday 30 March 2010

Hoody & Burnt Ends.

I read blogs every day. Fashion, food, tech, travel... it's my job. Or, it was my job. I am leaving my current social media/word of mouth/marketing role in 2 days, so instead of losing touch with the blogging world completely, I thought I'd jump in head first.

I have been thinking for a while now the type of blog I should set up. I'm sure a lot of you (the 1 out of 2 people reading this) will know that there is LOTS of blogs out there with food and fashion being at the front of the queue shouting 'feed me'. This isn't going to deter me, I like a comfy bandwagon. So this is what you'll be getting from me, it's pretty simple and has probably been done many times - Food & fashion. I will be posting what I wore and what I ate. It was after I read Chris Pople's blog about dining in London that I realised, no matter how much I adore the reviews, I would really love to know what he/his partner/the lady on the table next to him was wearing (I'm nosy like that). So, here goes my first attempt...

Unfortunately, we begin this flamboyant food journey on a very, very hungover Sunday. I had just met up with some fellow bloggers (I can say that now) from years back, and it had been a bit of a wild one. After an impromptu stay at T's house, we woke up ravenous. Ravenous for meat. This was when we decided to make our way back to my ends (Fulham) and get ourselves some famous Bodean's burnt ends. However I realised all I had to wear was some denim shorts and a blazer... oh. Luckily, T isn't the most burly of man, so I decided to rock the 'make it look like your boyfriends clothes' look. But, they actually were his clothes.


(T-shirt - Topshop, Hoody - Gap for men, Blazer - Zara, Shorts - Oxford boutique, Hat - Jack Wills, Boots - ASOS)

It was a slightly mis-matched walk of shame. Minimal make up, a lotta leg and a bloody warm Gap cardigan. Thanks T.

We arrived at Bodean's with empty tummys and dry mouths (sorry, but you know how it is) so promptly ordered two Sierra Nevada beers, which came freezing cold and with an authentic American pitcher - I got overly excited about that.



It might have been because I was extremely parched, but I really enjoyed it. I also enjoyed the surroundings - lots of pigs (I love pigs), dim lighting and American booths. It was perfect for the feast we were about to endure as no one wants to be sitting on a hard, wooden chair after you have just forced down a whole pig with some potato and 'slaw on the side. You definitely want squidgy, leather booths and a bit of extra room for your pregnant-esque stomach to let it's self free in the dark corner of the room. Sorry T.

I ordered the pulled pork and burnt ends, and T got himself the 1/4 chicken, pulled pork and ribs (with the idea that he would gobble half of my ends, hmph). The food came pretty fast, but it took a while for the sweet, slightly ditzy waiter (yes, a ditzy man) to return as I needed to tell him they forgot pulled pork on my plate, which pained me to say as it already looked like a meal worthy of Henry VIII. This was the meal pre-pork:



Whoa. A bonus (?) for us is that they brought up the pulled pork and also left the ribs - woohoo, heart attack!



The most important thing was the burnt ends. We had seen a T.V show a week previous and they looked epic. These, unfortunately, were not. Don't get me wrong - a good flavour and OK texture, but it baffled me to why they were so hard to get hold of? Luckily the pulled pork made up for it, it was succulent and juicy and a gorgeous, burnt flavour. I would have been happy to chuck everything else away, grab a fresh white bap and some apple sauce and chuck the lot in there - simple things. However I ploughed my way through the nothing-to-write-home-about chips, flavourless coleslaw and almost in-edible ribs like a good girl.

£38 later, meat sweats and two undone buttons, I don't think I'll go back.