The Summerhouse

Last Thursday my pal Saz and I went to the opening launch party of The Summerhouse by The Waterway, a beach hut-themed pop up restaurant in Little Venice. I was imagining it would literally be a shack on the canal towpath serving fish and chips, which just goes to show how little I know about Maida Vale. It was in fact in a former boathouse with an open terrace overlooking the water, and everything inside was nautical-themed: shell trinkets, comedy beach photos, navy stripes everywhere. Cute as (fish) pie.
Saz and I were charmed by the decor as well as the summery vibes, in spite of the distinctly chilly, windy April weather. We sampled some very lovely cocktails: lavender champagne and Pimms with blueberries, followed by canapes of various seafood dishes from the menu, including miniature fish and chips in little paper cups, crab croquettes and very potent Pimms jelly. The 'real' menu features all sorts of seafood -that might conjure up a holiday in the Hamptons, Brittany, or Whitstable for that matter: clam chowder, moules marinieres, fish cakes.
It's open now until October, and it definitely strikes the right tone for summer romance, although now we've tried it, Saz and I are just as likely to return for more of those lavender cocktails.

Fish food

At the weekend I found myself standing beside a river in Hampshire's idyllic Test valley, getting to grips with the basics of fly fishing.
I have to admit fly fishing is something I never thought I'd be doing, but the opportunity to do a beginners course came up and it suddenly seemed like a great idea. It was - contrary to what I'd been told - not at all boring. The sun shone for the first time in about eight months, and the tutors - who all work along the river on the fisheries - were incredibly patient.

As it turned out, no sooner had I amateurishly cast my line into the lake and was happily chatting to someone else that I felt the unmistakeable tug of a fish on the end.

Fishing, it turned out, is actually rather more brutal than I imagined. It takes care to get the fish out of the water without breaking the line, and then you have to kill it as quickly as possible by hitting it on the head with a miniature wooden hammer, or anything else that happens to be lying around. One of the pros then grabbed a stick and staked it into the side of the riverbank for me, to keep cool until the end of the day.

In spite of my clear lack of skill, it was a real thrill to actually catch a fish. We happily went home to put them on the barbecue with lemon, white wine and butter in a tin foil parcel. It tasted of the river, and was lovely and fresh and about three times the size of a trout you'd get in a supermarket - well worth the seven hours on the riverbank.

Japan-centric

I have a new love, and that is Japan Centre. I spent many happy hours - ok, maybe one happy hour - perusing food section at the back. WHOA. Is that place not a gold mine? How have I lived in London so long and never even been to Japan Centre?

1. A whole aisle devoted to instant noodles. Guilty, guilty pleasure.

2. Japanese Cheese Puffs. Seriously, these are amazingly light and far, far superior to any other similar cheese-based snack. Yes, the puffs are technically junk food, but at least they're the best kind.

The big freeze

Last summer a new frozen yoghurt place called Frae opened in Islington's Camden Passage. The kids (and I include myself in that) went nuts for it. Just 9 months on they've had a complete vintage-themed refurb, although the yoghurty goodness remains the same. I have to say I wondered if frozen yoghurt would fly in the cold winter months of London, but it was good to see the probiotic dessert trade apparently still flourishing even on a miserable rainy night in March. I slurped happily through a blueberry and granola pot of yoghurt while discussing the virtues of Eurovision with the owner and a complete stranger.