ORANGE & CINNAMON ICE CREAM

Orange and cinnamon is a big thing in Morocco.

In the past three days I packed three years of my life, put them onto the biggest van, took them up two flights of stairs (someone helped me), and even found some spare time to make friends with foxes.

I am currently in the seemingly never ending process of unpacking said belongings and I would kind of need another holiday in Morocco after that, together with a whole plantation of oranges sprinkled with cinnamon to recover my energy.

But just in case that doesn’t happen and I find myself at Ikea instead or running around looking for Blu Tack or recycling bags or my sanity, or at The Park, here’s some Moroccan inspired vegan orange and cinnamon ice cream. I heard it’s best served by the swimming pool.

RASPBERRY LIME DRIZZLE CAKE

The extremely engaging tale behind this week’s cake that I’m very unsurprisingly writing whilst falling asleep on my keyboard begins when you find yourself signing a lease for a flat an impressive amount of Overground stops away from where you’ve spent over seven hundred and thirty days of your existence.

Now it so happens that my occupation in the past couple of months has switched from that of full-time hermit to head of the wild puppy and trouble making department, which implies spending Saturday mornings staring at the empty space at local cafes that go under the name of Healthy Stuff, and filling yourself spherical with the aforementioned healthy stuff in an attempt to readjust brain functionality levels and regain a human appearance (and arguably sometimes failing).

Moving the other side of London sadly leaves me healthy stuff-less, and the vegan berry lime drizzle cake that has multiple times saved me from irreversibly turning into a zombie will be greatly missed.

So here’s my own version of it, if there’ll ever be a Saturday-morning-after-the-Friday-night when I’ll wake up all emotional for having run away from North East London; but also to salute the coolest little flat in the coolest former Victorian orphanage and a microwave and a sofa and three (three!) windows, and don’t hate you all, a heated Olympic-size swimming pool in the back garden, and a part of town that looks like an even better version of my dear Bushwick, just with the added bonus of an arcade bar and a much higher quantity per capita of plantain sellers; and to officially say, good night Dalston & good morning Peckham.

BLUEBERRY & CARDAMOM MUFFINS

A bit of blue like the painted wooden doors and tiled floors in Essaouira last week; like my dress and the boats and the sea; then the same subtle scent of spice as the tea we drank sitting in the Persian café on Peckham High Street before I left.

And if the above counts as dwelling on the past again (someone did tell me once that I do that a lot), then let these sweet summery muffins also speak of the blue of the water in swimming pools in back gardens, and of river valleys in far away places I want to visit; and of every cup of cardamom tea we will drink, at the café or our desk or my old flat or the new one or yours that I’ve yet to see; and of more new colours and more new smells and of new beginnings.

PEACH TEA COOKIES

When your loud mind is kept quiet by late night cab rides and origami in toilets and voices and friendly smiles, it does seem like the sky has opened up for a moment, and a light hits the skyscrapers and the rooftops and your skin and the City looks all pretty and shiny below your feet. But when midnight comes again and reality falls right onto your head from four metres high, the only companion you’re left with is a face so tired and puffy that you could cause criminal offence by the way you look; along with a concerning amount of broken things to fix. It’s only then that you finally realise you’ve got to take your usual crammed bus home and hang your head in shame, have porridge for dinner and employ what’s left of your strength to dig out that recipe you came up with during that part of your life when you were crossing paths with a part-time cookie monster and full-time ally. And even though there’s a high chance of your face being painful to look at for quite some time still, sitting together eating tinned fruit salad and sipping Turkish bottled water and munching peach tea cookies makes you feel like things are a little bit less broken already.

MELONPAN - JAPANESE BISCUIT BUNS

You know it’s time to make Melonpan when your Japan guidebook has been collecting dust on a shelf for almost a year, but still you can’t wait to print out yours and your daddy’s tickets to Morocco this week. And never mind the nosebleeds, David Wilson falls from the sky to improve your life like jam on toast.

Don’t ever tell him I said that.

And when Alex and Lauren and I sit on the steps on our lunch break with tired and crumpled faces like a punk version of the three musketeers. Or when your new mission in life becomes giving Cake Wednesday a Chinese twist.

But also when you think your heart is going to burst from sorrow and guilt (although someone’s there with you this time), and when you just don’t know whether you’ll be flying half a world away in a couple of months.

Because it turns out that sometimes (but only sometimes) change isn’t so terrifying, and it’s nice to sit in your (not for long) flat munching vegan sweet buns with a biscuity crust until you finally allow the seasons to turn.

CARROT CAKE

For Dom,

Happy Birthday

NANAIMO BARS

To try and lift up the London fog.