The BonBon Bakery, Berry Street

Listening to: Ceremony - New Order



The BonBon Bakery opened at the end of January; I actually just happened upon them the other day when I was walking back from Big Bowl Noodle on an emergency wonton soup mission (a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do). They are incredibly nice. It's run by a family from Guangdong, but living in Manchester; the dad gets up early every morning to make the dough, leaven it twice, then fill it, shape it and top it to create the Chinese bakery treats we all love. Everything is handmade from scratch with a few little twists.

BonBon isn't the first Chinese bakery in Liverpool - the Sweet Heart Bakery on Renshaw Street opened up a couple of years back and sell pretty much the same stuff - but a little competition is always healthy.  I would pitch it like this: the Sweet Heart is your go-to for classics and particularly sweets (how can anyone say no to a bear-shaped brioche roll?) and the BonBon is better for a more modern twist (think chicken curry buns). If it's an event cake you're after, head to Sweet Heart for a full gâteau or BonBon for smaller cream cakes. Price-wise, they're pretty much the same; everything averages around at about £2.50. The difficult part is deciding what to get...

Hearts,
Tor xoxo

Everybody Knows Somebody: Eating Disorders Awareness Week 2013

Listening to: Soul Meets Body - Death Cab for Cutie

As a food writer recovering from an eating disorder it is probably fair to say that I think about food and its significance a lot. As an actor, you can also throw in the whole issue of appearance. As a typical young woman, well, let's just say that conversing with my own kind is often pretty triggering.

If you've never experienced an eating disorder or seen one up close you would - and will - be forgiven for not understanding how serious it is to actually have one, and how difficult it is to bear alone. Imagine spending most of your conscious hours thinking about food, control, your body - the numbers, the shame, the fear, the guilt. Think about the roles that food, perfection, control and appearance play in society. I can't express enough that eating disorders aren't a lifestyle choice and they aren't a phase. They aren't fabricated to make people feel special. I have been told that that is exactly what my problem is, and I will never, ever forgive the person who said it. When a basic need becomes a sin, when 'I'm hungry' is the worst possible confession, when your body is a prison cell and the enemy - can you even begin to fathom that? Possibly not, and that's absolutely okay - that's the point of Awareness Week.

I have been like this since I was about 15 (I just turned 20). Over those five years I have binged and purged and starved, raided pharmacy shelves, fluctuated full stones in days, made reams of thinspo collages, written novels about my discontent, etched hate into my skin, tried to scratch things out. I have ached to pupate. I have told people that I am fine, to back off. I have lied, and often to myself.

I have told myself that I am fine, because you cannot be sick and wear a DD cup. I have told myself that sickness is for the noble. It seems fitting that this year, the first day of Awareness Week fell on the anniversary of Sylvia Plath's suicide - a brilliant woman who made art from her demise.

Back in November my mental health got especially bad. I have a kind of all-or-nothing obsession where if I'm not sick and nervous, not prolific, not jittery, I'm not doing enough. I feel like sleeping more than 24 hours a week is something I do not deserve, but vomiting blood is something I do. I was dragged to Student Health and through a long referral process (but shorter than the average person's; students are lucky, for most it takes months) I ended up seeing one of the best eating disorder specialists in the North West. She made it very clear that if I didn't get my act together I would die a bulimic, and most likely through oesophageal rupture - just like in Wintergirls. It turned out that my electrolytes are askew, my heartbeat is erratic, I have hypothyroid and I will probably never have a 'normal' relationship with food. Obviously, that wasn't what I wanted to hear. I refused her help out of sheer fear and walked out of that room knowing that my days were probably numbered. No one should ever do this, but it's so common. No one ever thinks they'll be the casualty.

Please, if you have an eating disorder, if you have any issues with food or with your body at all, get help. Tell someone. You do deserve to live well. You are remarkable; you are beautiful. Your body has held you for your entire life and will continue to do that until it can no longer, so be kind to it and be kind to yourself. Take recovery one thought, one bite at a time and know that you're getting stronger. Don't let sickness stop you from doing anything, and don't let fear stand as a barrier.

If you know anyone who does, tell them that; let them know you care. Don't interfere, but let them know and make an effort to be there. It helps. Acceptance is an incredible thing - all I've ever wanted was for someone to see through the chaos and understand, someone to think of me and ask how I'm feeling, and to finally have friends like that is amazing. It doesn't matter if you can't actively do anything; just be there and be open.

For more information on Beat and EDAW, see www.b-eat.co.uk. I also recommend Something Fishy for information on EDs, Men Get Eating Disorders Too for male-specific help, and if you'd like somebody to talk to, I'm here at hundredsofsparrows@live.co.uk.

Hearts,

Tor xoxo

Chocolate chunk shortbread

Listening to: Nicest Thing - Kate Nash

Guys! Doesn't this photo look a little like a real food blogger's photo?! I mean, it doesn't look quite as pretty, but I'm terribly proud. Of course, there's a recipe to go with it, and you can find it over here on LSMedia...

Hearts,
Tor xoxo

Tea tasting at LEAF

Listening to: Shadowplay - Joy Division

I went to a tea-tasting session last Monday and I wrote about it for LSMedia! There are around 1,750 words on the atmosphere, on the basics of tea and on my tasting notes. I promise it's not too heavy!

Tea caddies and leaves at Leaf on Bold Street.

To read my thoughts, click here! I'll also be writing up some tasting notes for Steepster when I remember. I've been really bad at keeping my online profiles updated lately...

Hearts,
Tor xoxo

What I Read: The Lost Girl (Penguin #752, reprinted 1954)

Listening to: Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division

I think I've mentioned this here a couple of times, but if you follow my Twitter or work with me in person then you're more likely to know that I'm amassing Penguins. I started sometime after I moved into North Western and with my constant hunger for books have found dozens for a small pittance through colleagues, second-hand bookshops and at Books for Free, this great initiative that saves books from pulping and hands them out to the community. 

I love reading Travellin' Penguin and A Penguin a Week and I finish about one book per day, so it makes sense to start writing about a few of my finds on here. I'm also working on a short post on where to find them in Liverpool, since I can't seem to find one of those online. 

The Lost Girl by D.H. Lawrence (Penguin #752, reprinted 1954)

This is the book that started it all. I found it in Henry Bohn Books, sat atop a box of non-fiction and reduced to £1. I knew nothing about vintage Penguins but the title struck a chord and I left with that and a selection of Nietzsche and a well-bound copy of the Icelandic Sagas. This is the second imprint (1954, originally published 1950) and it's in remarkably good condition - the front is slightly tatty, but the spine is bright and so are the pages. Most of my other Penguins have browned spines, dark pages and foxing, even those that are ten years younger.

The novel itself was written by D.H. Lawrence, an author better known for Lady Chatterley's Lover and the scandal that surrounded it - it was heavily censored until Penguin released the first unabridged version in 1960 and went to court for obscenity. The Lost Girl was first published in 1920, eight years before the censored publication of Chatterley, and was more or less doomed to a lifetime of relative obscurity. The design makes for great travel gear, though - Wild and Wolf released a line of The Lost Girl and On the Road water bottles, luggage tags, passport covers and travel pouches a while ago and they are incredibly lust-worthy (they can still be found on Amazon).

Onto the story. Alvina Houghton is a draper's daughter, Midlander and lost girl. She's terrified of dying a spinster, but she also doesn't want to settle. She flits between jobs, between lovers, but always has this gnawing fear - even when she gets what she wants, she can't submit to it. This, I think, is the key to the novel. If you can't empathise with Alvina here, it's not likely to do much for you.

Alvina starts to be discontented with life in the Midlands and decides to train as a midwife in Islington for six months. Her family is unconvinced that she'll make a living in nursing, and they're probably right. She comes back street-smart and qualified but it doesn't work for her - and her reputation is a little rough. She starts dating a local scholar who could probably support her for life, but gets cold feet. Risk-averse as all hell, it's surprising when she ends up lusting after a travelling thespian, Cicio, and joining his troupe - but not so surprising when she decides it might be a better idea to settle down as a nurse and gets engaged to wealthy and smitten Dr. Mitchell instead. The thing is, she really doesn't plan on marrying him...

It's slow and dry to begin with, but the end - oh, the end. You know when people are like, "I read The Fault in Our Stars and it broke my heart"? That is bull. I mean, I don't even know where to begin with TFiOS, it's an absolute picnic and I don't like Hazel (I'm a Margo). Read The Lost Girl and if you relate to Alvina you will cry until your throat is dry and your chest aches and you wonder if it was worth it. Is that not terribly more like heartbreak?

This book found a nerve, and it didn't just touch it, it grabbed it and scratched away at it. I've always had this massive fear of abandonment, the kind that tells you to run and become a lost girl before you lose anything, and Alvina Houghton embodies that. I think we all have that somewhere, don't we? So, yes. Read it.

Hearts,
Tor xoxo

Lapsang souchong bonfire biscuits

Listening to: Rehab - Amy Winehouse

Sometimes, just sometimes, I think I am quite good at cooking. I don't mean that in a "Yes, I didn't burn the dinner today!" way, but do you know those times when you make something slightly different and you feel skilful? Like that. I feel like I need to keep making things that didn't previously exist, and those are the things I like posting about.



These are lapsang souchong-infused golden syrup biscuits with marshmallow creme and just a little bit of chocolate. Smoky, sweet and chewy - not quite a s'more, but a harkening back to Girl Guides and camping (for me, that was slightly-burnt marshmallows, archery, Cadbury hot cocoa and harassing the Scouts who were staying on the same campsite).

I based the biscuits on Taste of Glasgow's, and the rest was cobbled together quite quickly! This was a small batch to test things out, but I think I may revisit this to pretty them up a little (my feathering is atrocious - that's what you get for using a spoon instead of a piping bag and a skewer).

You'll need (makes 8-10): 

Biscuits

• 50g margarine
• 2 tablespoons lapsang souchong (from the bag is fine)
• 1 cup of very strong brewed lapsang
• 2 tablespoons golden syrup
• 1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
• 100g flour

Marshmallow creme

• 200g marshmallows
• 50g margarine
• A few tablespoons of icing sugar
• Optional: red food colouring

Chocolate topping

• A few squares of plain chocolate
• Golden syrup

The makes:

1. Preheat your oven to 150℃.
2. Melt the margarine, then add the lapsang souchong and steep it on a low heat for 10 minutes. Strain the tea out, then mix in the golden syrup.
3. Sift the bicarbonate of soda into the flour, then add the flour to the syrup/margarine mix. Stir well.
4. The mixture will look clumpy, or even like breadcrumbs. To fix this, add some brewed tea, one tablespoon at a time until it becomes a smooth dough.
5. Roll the dough out on a clean surface to about 3mm thick, then cut rounds with the rim of a glass. Place them onto a lined tray and bake for 15-20 minutes, or until golden.
6. While the biscuits are baking, melt the marshmallows and margarine, stirring constantly. As soon as the mixture is smooth, take it off the heat and add the icing sugar. Beat together well. It's hard to go wrong with this step - ideally the creme will make a snapping noise as you beat it, but as long as it's glossy, it's perfect. Divide into two bowls and add the tiniest bit of red food colouring to one bowl to make it pink.
7. Take the biscuits out of the oven, leave them to cool for a couple of minutes (so that you can easily pick them up) and then use a knife to spread a glob of marshmallow creme onto each one.
8. Melt the chocolate in the microwave (one minute is enough). Stir it very smooth and mix in about a teaspoon of golden syrup to prevent it from solidifying. 
9. Paint horizontal lines of chocolate onto each biscuit, then use the handle of the spoon to drag vertical lines through them (see the photo). Leave to cool for a few minutes, then enjoy!

A couple of notes: if you have Marshmallow Fluff (a delicious American spread that is - for the health of Britain - quite thankfully not as ubiquitous as, say, marmalade) in the house, use that for the marshmallow creme. Also, if you aren't opposed to gelatine, buy Princess marshmallows and just separate the pink and white mallows so you don't need to colour any of the creme.

Hearts,

Tor xoxo 

Chocolate-almond tchotchkes

Listening to: There Is a Light that Never Goes Out - The Smiths

I have two more sleeps until my Greek philosophy exam and I needed a good de-stressing session, so (as usual) I baked. The upside? I now have fuel for the last leg of PHIL237 revision. I'm a happy girl.



I really didn't know what to call these, so they're tchotchkes (which isn't really a word that commonly used in British English - in fact, I always thought we borrowed it directly from the Russians, not Jewish Americans). Maybe 'turnovers' or 'pockets' would be better?

I like working with pastry. My favourite pastries have always been flaky, sugar-dredged, almond-studded croissants with marzipan tucked inside, but I frankly don't have the patience to make laminated pastry as a procrastination aid, so these are simple puff-pastry envelopes. Just buy a pack of puff pastry, roll it out really thin (a couple of millimetres thick) into squares of 5cm by 5cm and fill them with globs of marzipan and chocolate chunks, sealing the edges with almond milk. Perfect for showing off with minimal effort. In fact, I'm not sure a recipe is necessary - but here it is, if you'd like it:

You'll need (for about 20):

• One pack of puff pastry (I used a 500g block of Jus-Rol)
• Flour, to dust
• 100g dark chocolate, chopped
• 200g marzipan
• Almond milk, to seal
• Icing sugar, to dredge

The makes:

1. Preheat your oven to 200℃ and line a couple of trays.
2. On a flour-dusted surface, roll the pastry out to about 3mm thickness, then cut into squares of approximately 5cm by 5cm.
3. Dampen the edges of each square with a little almond milk. 
4. Put a small flattened ball of marzipan into one corner of each square, then press a couple of chocolate chunks into that.
5. Fold the pastry over itself, gently press the edges down and brush almond milk over the top of each triangle, then use a fork to make small vents (this will stop the fillings from bursting out).
6. Bake for 20 minutes, or until darkly golden. Dredge with icing sugar, then serve warm with coffee.

Hearts,

Tor xoxo