coast collectibles

 

october crafts

Apart from a scrumptious scone – eggy on top – which is a perfect bite to have in autumn (a rather perfect bite to have pretty much all seasons!) my early-autumn cake to make is definitely the Lemon Dotted Cake with almonds and all those tiny dots made of poppy seeds.

 

This cake is a very old-fashioned one even though it might look quite modern somehow. We often find this dough in muffins at some cafés, but the original shape is a big flat and soft cake. Of course I won't post the recipe cause it's easy to find it around the web, but let me put down some guidelines.

The dough is simple to prepare and it sticks to a basic cake recipe (butter, sugar and eggs plus yeast and flour) but then you add quite a lot of almond flour (ground almonds), poppy seeds and a couple of lemons (zest and juice).

 

Here comes the fun part: the syrup. The syrup is prepared using sugar and lemon juice and then is poured on the cake – that has been pierced all over with a stick – till the cake has absorbed all the syrup.

 

Final touch: icing on the cake. The icing is a syrup at its previous stage cause the sugar doesn't have to dissolve. You can even add some zest to the glaze as it adds a scented twist. Remember to let it cool off a bit before pouring it on the cake top, otherwise it will be too runny.

4 days - 3 nations

It often happens that I catch myself thinking about any feasible trip in the following couple of days. This time more than others I made it without that long notice: you know, when it comes to flights a bargain is a bargain and one cannot just ignore it! So, in the span of 4 days I've kind of strolled around France, Italy and then UK. These things – that I'm sure some fashion bloggers do everyday – on my physical person do encourage a state of alienation. That was basically the feeling when every different morning I found myself in a bed at a different latitude. But, yeah, I guess I can put up with this if it's all about going around and seeing friends.

After a quick overview at luxury packaging fair in Montecarlo I popped into a local supermarket and got some salted butter to eat the morning after on my special fruit bread biscottes. The rest as follows:

 

I threw away my high heels and replaced them with flat shoes, as soon as I got on the train

 

once in Italy, an instant coffee to go helped me to figure out some travel issues while I was sitting at the harbour

 

after a long cartoonful night at the airport (thanks God I had that Adventure Time folder in my laptop) I guzzled down a pint of milk and hopped on the 6.40 plane to Notts where I met a friend of mine that surely had slept more than me

 

on the following day I rolled down the M1 to London, surrounded by a clutch of radical motorcyclists and once there I've waited inside a car for an hour with the view on West End Lane – my top place to hang around where I used to live in the area – while outside was raining hard and my friend was wandering looking for a pair of tights

 

before heading off at night, we spent a couple of hours in a lovely café (Chinwag) in New Cross and read menus hidden inside old books 

we passed by the one I call “my university I didn't attend” and listened to the students' music festival that was happening outside the building right in that moment

back to Notts I went to a friend's to properly wash my hair and before reaching her place I came across the Goose Fair – probably the best funfair around the UK – walking through the backstage where all the caravans rest.

French-Italian riviera

The 30th of September the sea is another sea.

The last hopeful bathers hope to make up for lost time
getting tanned a bit more.

Because September is not a month for tourists,
it's not convenient,
not even in the weekend.

 

The sun is always hot,
the sea a little colder.

The last lifeguards get busy
with their end-of-season business,
burnt skin, straw-like hair,
they've grown a bark for the whole summer.

They tidy up beach squares,
but nobody will enjoy their tidiness.
It looks it's 7 o'clock, but it's 10.

Clouds overlay
in a play of bright greys.
That's how I like the sea:
slightly gilded.

A girl tries to catch some waves,
alone among the surges.

As I go further away
I take a glance back every now and then
to see what she does,
but she stays there, still.

Groups of Germans go for bike hikes,
their summer has just begun.

The fig trees,
which every now and then
sprout here and there
from the walls facing the sea,
have got their leaves still burnt
since the time it was hot.

climbing Cap-Martin

This one of the top footpaths of my life. I'm talking about Promenade Le Corbusier, a 12 km long walking path (that one can do even running!) along the French Riviera around Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, close to the Italian boundary. If you are smart you can reach Montecarlo at the end. This promenade by the way is useful to reach Le Corbusier's secret retreat where the Swiss architect used to go to think. You'd better check the opening hours before, though, because it's very likely to find it close (like this time!).

Its proximity to Montecarlo makes this promenade a popular set for fashion shootings. This time we came across some people dressed like Indios making weird poses around these rocks.

little house in Garavan

Once you pass that tunnel you know it's time to relax again and enjoy your always brief holiday. The colours make you very laid-back over here, the scratched-off paint on the blue windows, the pale cake on every wall facing the sea, remind you of a place born on these rocks.

Buildings are facing each other, growing high and almost crumbling, but some arches were built in between to leave a gap for tourists to walk through.

back to Notts

The best way to end this trip to the UK is going once more to my good old Notts. From my deep knowledge of the area that I've accurately screened during my uni time, I'm all the times surprised that there are still some undiscovered alleys in the city centre. Some of those are not always open and you need to pop up the right time in front of their gates if you hope to unveil their mysterious beauty. This time we discovered another cobbled footpath among the old buildings, few businesses, barber shop, record store and a little café with excellent blends (probably you find here the best espresso around town).

Chilling at West Bridgford river banks is always something I love to do in this season. After a jacket potato tea back in the city we are now ready to head to Wollaton Park were the archery national finals are taking place.
Lovely place.