Leftovers #141
Two pasta recipes you need; the best facial in Hackney; how not to side dish your salad; the song of the summer
I keep on telling myself that I’ll return to routine soon. When my body stops feeling creaky or when I’m less tired in the morning or when the skies transition from two dimensional grey to a bouncy blue hue. Procrastination is one of my strongest suits, followed closely by an ability to turn any activity into one enjoyed horizontally. I’m yet to master cooking whilst lying on the floor, but there’s always tomorrow!
Putting things off until the very last second is definitely a strategy, although I’m not sure how effective it is in the long term. It’s a day of love so I’m driving to my favourite place. My friend has invited me to a party appropriately hosted at a brewery called Loveday, and almost every inch of me is saying ‘stay home’ because I know I’ll enjoy the cooking and the hot bath and the comfort of not exposing my insecurities to other people. There’s 1% that says ‘staying in is not how you fall in love’ (except with yourself, of course), and I’m considering breaking my hermit rules to risk it for romance, however unsuccessful or short-lived.
I had a dream I looked out from a balcony and saw him, and in that dream it seemed to prove how much I allow my life to be governed by coincidence masquerading as fate. I spent most of this morning daydreaming about this fantasy, then stepped into reality to listen to a university lecturer talk about architecture as an earth practice. Then that became the fantasy. It’s a vicious circle, my brain.
Anyway, here are some lovestruck leftovers!

Pasta, four times in a row, by accident
This is v unusual for me. I started strong with a carbonara not cooked by me after too many glasses of wine at my favourite pub, where you’ll find me in the darts room on most Sundays. I’d virtuously cooked a pot of beans before this session and ended up not eating them, so obviously it was pasta and beans for Monday’s dinner fit for six women. We ate it spread on the sofa and flung across the floor with a bottle of Non – a non-alcoholic wine which I didn’t love at first taste but grew to really enjoy the next day. It’s sparkling and has a slightly tannic aftertaste.
Popped to Popham’s on Tuesday night with the Mother Root team for a celebratory dinner. Tucked into the set menu sat under my favourite Lucie Gray painting. Special mention to the parmesan and celeriac gnudi which were huge fluffy clouds soaking in a eat-by-the-spoonful sauce.
Then Sophia came over for a much needed double vodka-and-olive (two egg cups of vodka, two egg cups of olive brine, three olives on a stick, served over lots of ice) and a matching bowl of pasta alla vodka. Predictably I use gochujang instead of chilli flakes which I think gives the sauce a little hit of sweetness. We discussed the fate of Los Angeles (Sophia’s home; my spiritual home), dating in London, her new short film and how 2025 will be ‘our year’ as single women in our thirties (we say this every year).
In amongst that was a need to consume protein and greens, so daily bowls of shredded kale dressed with lime miso vin, three crispy fried eggs, avocado and a big dollop of yoghurt topped with chilli oil. Last night I returned to my parents and was fed bossam (lettuce leaves filled with rice, ssam sauce and spicy pork belly, the fat so tender it melts on your tongue) to break my pasta streak.




The facial I knew I needed
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Since No One Asked to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.