the chapter in which snow white eats the apple.

I think its high time I told you all a tale about the lovely dinner I've been hinting at for weeks now, when I went around to Prince Charming's house to play. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...
Sadly he brought along his noble steed and thus I didn't have him all to myself, but I was nevertheless treated to an evening of utterly delicious food, which was most therapeutic after an afternoon of torment, spent clearing up a bottle of red wine which I smashed, in true Eloise-fashion, all over the floor. I don't suffer from dyspraxia, I hasten to add, I'm just really clumsy.

So Prince Charming was presented instead with a meagre bar of Green and Blacks, a poor replacement for the wine, but he and his noble steed were also provided with jokes for the whole evening, and it was pointed out to me that I was in heels, and shouldn't touch anything, there were sockets around the room, and Oh! Look! stairs...

Prince Charming also added that he'd done a risk assessment before I arrived and said that if I wanted to enter the kitchen I was going to have to wear a high-vis jacket and a hard hat at all times. Or wrap me in cottonwool. I wasn't impressed either way.

Sitting safely on my chair away from anything breakable, I was duly served three of the most delicious courses I have ever been entreated to in this City: pea and rosemary (flower) mousse, venison casserole, parsnip puree, caramelised beetroot and vanilla (and star anise, blegh) pannacotta, served with sweet pesto, crystallised basil leaves and strawberry coulis.

It sounds fantastic, and believe me, it tasted every bit as good as it sounds. We started off with the pea and rosemary soup (in his extensive gardens Prince Charming has a rosemary bush), in mousse format - a new experience for me, chilled, and sprayed with a super-expensive impressive nozzle into my teacup! Visually impressive, palest jade green, studded with amethyst coloured rosemary flowers. It was almost a shame to eat it.

Almost.

I had no trouble daintily wolfing down my first serving, and didn't turn down seconds. The Prince and his steed had a fight with a sprig of rosemary and the steed received his dinner in a nosebag from then on.

We were then served an utterly beautiful casserole, stewed to within an inch of its life, the venison melting, and the blackberries and chesnuts were an added treat. Combined with a parsnip puree of petit filous creaminess, and sweet, caramelised beetroot, the steed keeled over in bliss, and I nearly joined him. The beetroot was allegedly a worthy adversary in the kitchen, refusing to yield to the prince, enduring torture at 200 degrees celsius, an hours boiling, before finally succumbing to his ministrations. His lordship, Gordon Ramsay, was sent an angry messenger forthwith, pending poor instruction and unnecessary toil on behalf of Prince Charming.

We sat back, post-dinner, in contented bliss, almost full and warm with sleepy fingers and toes. It had been spellbinding, and we still had dessert to go!

And so it was, laid out like a fairytale, a triumphant pannacotta, accompanied by strawberry coulis, sweet pesto, and crystallised basil leaves. Vanilla and star anise pannacotta, glorious and glistening and delicious though it was however, seemed to have adverse effects on me, given my allergy to star anise - generally met with displeasure by my stomach. Innocent of the star anise, however, I polished off pudding, and then wondered why I felt sick for several hours afterwards.

Despite my aversion to star anise, I remain indebted to Prince Charming for such an exquisite meal and wonderful company. Even his steed was mellowed by the wine and fine food, and the evening was spent in good company and high spirits, and we staggered home happily ever after.

Love,
Eloise
xxx