Skinny Chicken & Stuffin' Salad

This just so happens to be the Little Black Dress of the salad world.

It's also an ideal place to start if you're trying to shimmy back into your actual LBD.



Allow me to cast your mind back a couple of weeks. Remember hungrily browsing the sandwich aisle at lunch and locking eyes with the all exclusive, sparkly red festive range? (I'm going to assume you just nodded and drooled simultaneously.)

Well, I had a particular penchant for the chicken, stuffing and cranberry variety.



My Skinny Chicken & Stuffin' Salad is essentially just that with a low carb January twist. First thing first. Whack these on the shopping list:

For the salad (to feed two people)
1 pack leafy salad (spinach, rocket, lamb's lettuce all work well)
1/2 an iceberg lettuce
1/2 a cucumber
3 x skinless, free range chicken breasts
1 cup 'just add water' sage and onion based stuffing mixture

For the dressing
3 tbsp cranberry sauce (you'll find this in exile at the back of your fridge)
2 tbsp balsamic vinegar
2 tbsp good quality extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp wholegrain mustard
1 x lemon

Start by seasoning your breasts and stop being so naughty, you filthy animal!



Pop them in a pre-heated oven at around 200°c until cooked through and crisp on the outside. Depending on the thickness of your chicken they can take between 20-30 minutes. If  in doubt, slice one open and take a peek. If it's pink, it's not done yet.

In the meantime, prepare your stuffing according to the instructions on the packet. Crisp it up under the grill if you have the time, otherwise just pop it in the microwave for around three minutes and enjoy its natural gooey deliciousness.



Feel free to make your mixture from scratch if you'd rather. I'm only leaving it to Sainsbury's because, well, who the heck has the time to make homemade stuffing?!

Chop your iceberg lettuce into strips and throw it into a bowl with the rest of your leaves. Dice your cucumber and toss it all together good 'n' proper.

Whilst your stuffing is cooking, knock together your dressing. In a bowl, add your cranberry sauce, olive oil, mustard, lemon juice and balsamic vinegar before giving it a stir and crushing in your garlic. Season with salt and pepper.

At this point, your roast chicken should be ready. Remove it from the oven and squeeze over the lemon juice. I like mine really lemony, so I use a whole half.

When it has cooled, chop it up into bite size chunks and season.

Divide your salad between two large bowls (you should have enough left over for tomorrow's lunch, you lucky devil) and scatter your chicken pieces on top.

When the microwave pings, take out your stuffing and break it into little pieces. Pop them on top of your salad and whatever you do, make sure you lick the spoon.

That, my friend, is a vital step.

Drizzle over your homemade cranberry dressing and dive in totally guilt free.

Ridiculously delicious and totally acceptable in January, much like the the following joke:

What do you do with epileptic lettuce?

You make a seizure salad! 

Cocobamboo Camden

Some of my most favourite memories have been made in Camden.

Bouncing around on my dads shoulders on the hunt for bird warblers and adventure, sprinting to Offspring to buy my very first pair of Converse or stumbling along the cobbles with a box of noodles and a woozy smile... Camden has secured itself a cosy little spot in my heart.

So when the old man's birthday rolled around, I knew just the place. You see, my dad was a little bit of a 'lad about the town', back in the good old days.

He would scoot along on his Lambretta dressed in a lilac tonic suit whilst humming The Cure's finest. (I was actually named after the 80s new wave rock ballad 'Charlotte Sometimes', tres chic, huh?)

My dad spent a whole 'lotta time trawling the Camden scene with the rest of his cronies, so I thought I'd take him back there. Nothing too fancy, nothing too suave. Just good food and even better rum.

We rallied the troops and headed to Cocobamboo for a taste of the Caribbean. And a side dish (or five) of Brazil.

According to legend, owners Junior and Emanuela Menezes met in Camden around seven years ago. Having both grown up in the same small city in the north-east of Brazil, sparks flew and before they could say 'black bean stew!' they were happily married.

It wasn't until some years later when Junior's sister unearthed a childhood photograph of her brother that fate reared it's loved-up little head. Clear as day, in the background of the picture stood a young Emanuela, unknowingly walking past her future husband and life-long soul mate.

It gets better. Not only were the two destined for each other since birth, they were also blessed with the same passion for a plateful. Both had worked within the restaurant industry since moving to London, with Junior trained as a Cordon Bleu chef and his wife, a waitress, and the two shared a dream of opening up their very own restaurant. Alas, Cocobamboo was born.

Drenched in rum and drizzled with jerk sauce.

Now, all of this romance-talk was ja'makin me thirsty. To kick things off, I went for a passion fruit mojito and a Jamaican iced tea. Both were pretty darn delicious.

Don't be fooled by these little babies. There's a whole 'lotta booze in that cup. The cocktail list is almost never ending, and the bar-tenders are more than willing to whip up a concoction of your choice with a nano-seconds notice. The bar proudly boasts a thousand and one exotic liqueurs, flavoured rums and vodkas, and I made it my mission to take full advantage of it. I'd suggest you do the same.

Next up, the grub.

I decided to set up my very own little tapas station and order half of the starters menu. First up came the jerk wings. Crispy chicken drenched in an authentic Caribbean sauce. The flavours are nothing like what comes out of a squeezy bottle from Tescos. This the real shebang.

Then came the greenery. A chunky mango and avocado salad which I teamed with a 'mango delight', a rich, creamy cocktail with just the right amount of zing. It was ideal as a side dish but I really wouldn't order it on it's own. It did exactly what it said on the tin, nothing more, nothing less.

That said, what came next included a whole 'lotta meat.

 

Caribbean spare ribs. Salty, sweet, gooey and sticky meat draped in cucumber and spring onion. Yes, I got down, yes I got dirty. And hell no did I use a fork! The ribs were incredibly tasty and there were enough of them to feed a small army. I'm a greedy little cretin and even I couldn't polish it all off.

A went for 'bobo de camarao', a shrimpy, coconutty dish served with rice and greens.

And the birthday pops opted for Caribbean steak and 'tatas.

As good as everything looked and smelt, the curry goat induced a pretty nasty bout of food envy from the majority of the table. The goat was perfectly succulent and the sauce? Well. Lets keep this PG, shall we. Before goat-related fisticuffs broke out, it was time for cake and a very happy birthday boy.

I think he might have wished for more curry goat. But I'm not totally sure.

If you find yourself peckish in Camden, definitely give Cocobamboo a go. After 11pm on Saturday nights the three-floor restaurant transforms into a lively cocktail bar, so even if you're just feeling thirsty, Cocobamboo is your place.

Just make sure you book online before hand and pass on asking the bar staff whether they have beer-can or not. I learnt that one the hard way.

Feeding Time At The Gate

When I've had a heavy night, the morning after means one thing and one thing only. Calories. And lots of 'em.

Nothing quite cleanses a wine-headache like a sunny day spent with the girls in a pub garden. But The Gate in Chorleywood isn't just any old pub garden. It's my favourite pub garden.

I first stumbled upon The Gate on one hazy, hungover morning on the hunt for said calories. To my pleasure, I found a beautifully simple patio filled with pretty candles, rickety chairs and tables, mismatching cutlery and most importantly, delicious food.

As you can see, none of us were feeling particularly perky. The waiter flung a few delicately laid out menus our way and we got searching. I went for the fresh orange and mango juice to get things goin'.

This was the only house red I would be sampling during this particular lunch time...

The menu offers a fair amount of choice, all of the usual pub garden trimmings, pastas, meat and potatoes, salads and posh sarnies.
Being horrendously wheat intolerant, I had to rule out the delicious, thin crust pizzas in favour of a crispy duck salad with shredded cucumber, a hoisin glaze and a sprinkle of toasted sesame seeds.

I can't say I was too put out.

I didn't stop there though, my friend.

These little babies were the main event. Homefried chunky chips dripping in a gooey, rich garlic mayo with just the right amount of ooomph to it. Served on the side of my salad, I didn't even feel naughty. I'd already eaten them up before I had the chance to, anyway.

The girls enjoyed taunting me with their pizzas, which were all tomotoey and chickeney and jalapenoey, just as any pizza worth it's crust should be.
Obviously my taste buds over ruled my common sense (and my stomach) and I treated myself to a sliver of Justine's, just to taste. The base is super thin and crunchy, so although I wouldn't recommend the wheat-free among us to order a pizza when cravings become too much, if you're gonna cave, cave at The Gate. It's almost worth the couple of stomach-spasm filled hours. Almost.

No need to book a table if you're popping in for a Saturday lunchtime seeing to, although they do get pretty busy on Sunday afternoons. To check out the menu or book online, visit the website.

So who wants to take me dancing on Friday night, so I can come back here on Saturday afternoon?