This weekend

Come and find us on Millbank for the arts fete of the year - Saturday 4th July, 11am-7pm.

Or....Hanover Day in Brighton on Sunday 5th July, 11am-6pm - for a big old street party (whoop whoop!)

Fetes & parties...

We loved heading way up north to Barnet - all that leafy suburbia and mock-Tudor - and what a great party for Sophie's 18th. Suddenly the quiet, pine-scented streets were engulfed with the whoops and hollers of a double-decker bus load of teen-agers back from their tour of town. When they saw what was waiting for them in the driveway the hysteria reached critical levels and we steadied ourselves for the job at hand - Malteser muffins, Rocky Road, rum hot chocs and chocolate ice cream, all to be doled out in record time.

These two were brimming with delight at the though of the envy they'd incite in their classmates when they showed up with Malteser muffins for break time.

Here's the queue for the Big Event in Myatt's Field Park the other day. Damn I loved that fete - there was a tea dance and a procession, magicians, face-painters, fancy dress and of course, Choc Star. Opposite sat Mr Whippy, dishing out bright blue bubblegum flavoured stuff. I'd like to have been behind his counter to see how different the punters were - from where I was it looked like SW9 was a seething hotbed of allotment dwelling, cloth bag donning, multi-cultural embracing, ear to ear grinning folk.

And then came this lot at a party in Oxfordshire...

She wasn't smiling quite so much after her 9th scoop of raspberry sorbet. Roald Dahl could have written a great little skit on what became of all that sorbet.

These two, on the other hand, went all out for the frozen choc-dipped bananas - a bit eye-watering, perhaps, to begin with, but momentum was soon gained and with it a real satisfaction.

TimeOut's top 8 places to eat ice cream in London

We were very happy to see in the latest issue of TimeOut that we have been named as one of the top 8 places in the Capital to go for ice cream. But remember, the beauty of the choc-mobile is that we can come to YOU! Nowhere too far, small/big or strange - the more out there the better as far as we're concerned.

In fact, we're even beginning to head into office carparks. Does your office have one? If so, we're there - with top ranking ice cream! Holler!

The Big Event - South London Victoriana

Myatts Field Park is the closest park to my house and this weekend I'll be taking Choc Star along there - but a stones throw away. How exciting. I'm so used to hauling ass all the way down huge highways and bi-ways and I relish the proximity of it all.

The park has had a £3m facelift and will be celebrating with a grand procession, tea dance, music and lots of delicious food stalls.

And it's free! So come on by if you're in the area - the frozen choc-dipped bananas will be in full effect.

Marylebone Village Summer Fayre - this Sunday

Choc Star will be in the Blue Zone (Paddington Gardens) - near the Pimms tent - so as I'm sure you can imagine, we're pretty delighted. Apparently the crowd go wild and it's a real rumpus affair. We are girding our loins....

Hope to see you there, in the sun, with a cucumber-laced summer cocktail and a greedy need for chocolate.

Brownie Masterclass this weekend!

The debate about what a real brownie is, or should be, rages on. Who'd have thought that my adult life would be so peppered with conversations on the subject? I know what I think a brownie should be - crisp, almost meringue-like on top, nestling into a wickedness below - taking in rich moist cake and then plunging further to the cherished super-dense and highly-charged fudge centre. The overall effect is of cushioned chewiness and a sense of all being well with the world.

If you'd like to know more - or even fancy contesting these beliefs - I shall be holding a 'Brownie Masterclass' in the demo tent at this weekends Slow Food Market outside the Southbank Centre, 1pm, Saturday 6th June: Brownie discussion and the big unveiling of the national secret that is the recipe for Choc Star's Walnut Fudge brownies.

I hope that compere's there from last time, he were great.

Hampton Court Foodies

She just didn't know which way to go - hotdog or milkshake - so she got both.


Si came to visit - all the way from Dalston on his moped. No wonder he felt a bit like brushing that dirt off his shoulder.


When the punters hear Sunday Girl coming out of the Bose they know it's time to head over for a bit of what Jimmy's been cooking up.

Brighton Foodies

It rained, it shone, it swept and it pulverised. Brighton gave us a little bit of many seasons last weekend. I managed to establish myself as the on-site pain in the butt as I attempted to motivate the Brightonian stewards to action.
'Where's my pitch please?'
'Errrrr, good question..'
'Very funny. Can you radio through to someone who does know?'
'Ok, O-kayyy, chilloutman'.

I was chilled out. Until that crusty said it. And the next one and the next one. Welcome to Brighton! Luckily chocolate was at hand and I reached for it.

Lots of nice customers came by the van, ice cream was scooped, brownies served, hot chocolate frothed, truffles rolled...but I gotta say, the highlight of the weekend for me was buying my herb garden: purple sage, basil, parsley, coriander, tarragon, rosemary, mint, chives, thyme, marjoram, bay and dill. Joy!...oh, and Charlie of course - he was an angel.

Luvley Ludlow

I got to hit the road at the weekend. I'd been doing London based jobs for so long that I'd forgotten what it feels like to buckle up and rev off down big roads and onto smaller, lesser known lanes. Beth from the Ludlow Food Festival called me up a couple of months ago, longing for me to bring Jimmy to their new Spring Event. It was to be beer and bangers based - say the word banger to me and I'm there. I love sausages so much that I once got a job in sausage promotion for a rather unsavoury individual purporting to be the only black farmer in Britain. He turned out to be a omplete charlatan but the bangers were addictive.

I rumbled up the M40, collected some ice cream in Stratford and then headed West from Kidderminster. The Ludlow lot had rallied round and found me a lovely couple to stay with in Hopton Wafers. We got on like a house on fire and I lapped up all the Slow Food ex-HQ news with fascination. It seems that all is not right in the upper echelons of the Movement.

I remember when I first heard about the Slow Food Movement. I was in Tuscany on my old stomping ground about five years ago and I had just had an epiphany that food would be my future. My friends fed me stories about this revolutionary occurence that was rippling through Italy and beyond. Magic, I thought, I want to know more. Since that time it has grown hugely and has become embedded in the language along with those other ambiguous terms; 'sustainable' and 'locally sourced'. The notion of 'Slow' now comes with extra baggage and I regualarly find myself in discussions with hardcore food people about its merits and relevence.

In Ludlow there is outrage because someone has pledged cash to the Movement on certain conditions, one of which was to have the HQ moved from Ludlow to London. Despite a majority voting against this, Mr Petrini sanctioned the move. Outcry! It's all far more convuluted than this but what it has served to bring about is a deep-rooted local scepticism about the values of the Movement.

I smell a revolution...and surely, the whole point of Slow Food is tied up with a localised reclamation of food production and selling. Yes, it's nice to be affiliated with the broader group but it's not about being sheep-like at this stage. Ludlow - I'm intrigued to see what your next move will be.

Anyway, Choc Star was warmly received - perhaps one too many orders for 'vanilla cornets' for my liking but hey, the truffles went down well. By Saturday night I had moved from my position by the castle to the punk gig in the Ludlow Brewery. I loved it. I love the way in the country you get everyone coming out to play together rather than sectioning off into appropriate groups. There were scruffy kids and committee members, middle-aged ex-punks and tweenie cider drinkers.

I left Ludlow on Sunday afternoon, laden with flagons of beer, Welsh perry, marmalades, bangers, chocolate bars and a promise to return in September. I hope to get back there - it rocks. Shropshire is special.

Slow Food May Bank Holiday

The Southbank was awash with gay and lesbian choralists at the weekend. They're a great traveling troop of singers from all over the world and the van turned out to be a bit of a hotspot for them. There were some awesome sights - some of those German dudes had some meaty old calves on them and check this guy out -

I mean, I'd wear that jacket in a heartbeat given half a chance. It really brought me so much joy.

I was also delighted because my Bose soundock was back in my life and so I got to rock out to all my old favourites, including my man Hov. As I scooped ice cream and shook hot chocs Jay-Z would be chanting 'Girls, girls, girls' and I suddenly became aware of the broad smiles on the all female queue and the fact that that song is probably a massive lesbian anthem.

Anyway, the smiles were just as big for the new addition to the menu - the Blondie Butterscotch Sundae...mesmerising indeed.

The next two weekends take us out of town - 9/10 May to Ludlow where Jimmy'll be parked up outside the castle for a beer and bangers event (MMmmmm, sausages) and 16/17 May to Brighton for the Foodies Fair in Jubilee Square.

Holler!

Jimmy gets a touch up

It was time for Jimmy to go and get a rub-down. Ever since the rigors of last year's big road trip, his hull has been crying out for a bit of revival. All slightly new territory for me, I danced around the subject until eventually I felt ready - and in I plunged. Into the world of the bodyshop and its flying sparks and grey watery puddles. Yeahman Body Repairs is just round the corner from me off Coldharbour Lane and right next door to Big Jim's mechanics. They both needed to do stuff to Jimmy to complete the look and feel and making everything crystal clear for them was a hell of a challenge, thankfully lubricated by spare chocolate cakes and lots of bad jokes.

One day during this process I discovered that Jimmy had burst into flames during a routine welding procedure - 'You'da shit yerself if you'd bin in 'ere gel' cackled Big Jim with delight as I surveyed the Mad Max-esque damage to the bonnett (and agreeing with him in no small part). Shards of darkness thrust out from within and I just prayed the rest of the work would pass by without any more trauma.

Apart from the indicator cables getting burnt through and a potential bust up between Yeahman and Big Jim (diffused, once more, with choc), the rest of it went fine and I was able to drive the mid-op Jimmy off to New Cross Gate to Insa's studio for the final cosmetic touches....just in time for the May Bank Holiday Slow Food market.

How to turn your wild idea into a reality - the recording.

Last week I went along to Clerkenwell House to speak to a group of 'scanners' about how I got started with Choc Star. Also on the podium were the adorable Bompas & Parr (who, it transpires, have long been fans of Choc Star and the chocolate roadshow) and Sophie Boss of Beyond Chocolate.

There were all kinds of interesting people there with lots of great ideas for projects they wanted to start - but the overriding sentiment seemed to be FEAR. I was asked about my take on the fear factor when starting up and my feeling is that I was more afraid of not doing it than of going for it and making it happen. It was this great, charged, pulsating feeling in my stomach that demanded that I do it - or risk continuing to be the kind of person who forever dwells in unrealised ideas.

And besides, fear is good. It's powerful. I'm terrified right now of the next stage of Choc Star adventuring - but I know that this means I have to do it!

Here is the recording of the night - I'm speaking 2nd.

Chocolate festivities

This was pretty much all I saw of the Chocolate Festival last week as I scooped and sliced and shook and stirred. Betsy and Molly came to help - as did my brother. It was mental - if you put chocolate stalls together, tell everyone about it and insist the sun comes out then the traders really get it in the neck...in a good way.

I was delighted to see so much good chocolate around - namely William Curley, Paul Wayne Gregory, the wonderful Deirdre of Co Couture in Belfast and my all time favourite and true master of his art, Damian Allsop. We looked after each other - I released chocolate ice creams: Nutella, triple choc, mint choc chip and organic choc in their general direction whilst they returned the gesture. An eye-popping care package of D.A's best arrived on my counter and saw me through...about an hour or 2 of bliss. How can you get anything more perfect than posh Reese's Pieces? The dark choc and the creamy, textured, salty peanut centre. It feels good for you, nourishing, deserved.

Regulars dropped by - my cycling wild man from the bridge, the architecture student with a penchant for brownie fudge sundaes, the adorable Kumi with a present of freshly picked walnuts, the hot choc fanatic from the apartment block next door and little Leon and his family - whose birthday party we attended way back.

Also came some new visitors - food worshipper and blogger Eat Like A Girl in her gorgeous red shoes, sausage roll enthusiasts (and most other kinds of food I understand) Helen and Lizzie and the elusive Bellaphon accompanied by rampant desire for all things inside the choc-mobile - love his write-up of his Choc Star experience!

Ice cream was the big hit over the weekend but so too were the classic brownie fudge sundaes and the new kids on the scene - the blondie fudge sundaes! Picture this: a brownie made with white chocolate and scented with vanilla. The cocoa butter makes it sunshine yellow and fudgey beyond control. Atop sits a scoop of cool, creamy chocolate ice cream and over all of this is poured our molten chocolate fudge sauce. I ate one each morning before the crowds arrived. I couldn't help myself - it seemed like life or death a little bit.

Choctastic at the Guardian

When I read on Twitter that there was to be a chocolate tasting at the Guardian I was in like Flynn on signing up. All manner of chocolate would be representing its Easterly wares and it sounded like there was a bit of a scramble for the 75 spots allocated. I thought, what with all the egg action going on, it might be good to bring along some ultra fudge brownie bites...to alleviate the glut. I sallied forth on the train and strided up York Way in the biscuity late afternoon sun, my brownie cutting knife carefully wrapped so as not to involuntarily expose myself as a Kings Cross blade loon.

En route my eye was caught by this pair of extraordinary pins up ahead - like that of Barbie, replete with 'flesh-coloured' plasticky sheen. They really didn't look real. Who could sport legs like that? I pondered, quickening my pace a tad. Soon enough it dawned on me that somewhere in my distant TV viewing past I'd seen them before. A glance at this woman's profile confirmed it - Su Pollard. I'd only been looking at a terrible pic of her in the paper earlier that day. I approached her and was thrilled to here those raspy, excitable tones. I loved you in Hi-de-Hi! I told her. We chatted about holiday camps and mini-skirts and stage shows, then into the Guardian HQ I went with a 'ta-ra lov' ana birrova wink.

The new building is a great, aspirational space - alll floor to ceiling windows and escalators and viewing zones. I was shown to my set-up room via the horseshoe shaped swoop of chocolate zones. In one room was lovely Henrietta Lovall of The Rare Tea Company, making alchemy of silver tipped leaves and hot water, Andrew of Gonzalez Byass was standing by in another room - oloroso at the ready. Then there was Paul A Young, resplendent behind a table decorated with his wonderful chocs.

Continuing round I came upon Kieron of Mayan Magic who I'd had contact with last year on my tour. More chocolate, more tables - and on to a whole giant boardroom heaving with smashed up Easter eggs - from Godiva, Daylesford Organic, Divine, Thorntons, Lidl, Hotel Chocolat. Fine, very nice. But what really got me going was when we finally arrived at 'my room' - specially reserved for me to perform the important task of cutting up brownies. What a view! I could have stayed in there all evening with maybe the odd dash for supplies. But those fudgey little bites needed to be circulated.

I quite liked being an itinerant producer. I got to float about, waitress style with my tray of joy. They all did seem quite taken by the smashed up eggs, yet when I swooped along there would be this inner ambivalence going on in the choc fans minds. But we've eaten so much already...yet we haven't had any brownies...I don't want to be sick all over this nice carpet....how could I turn them down though? And on it went until the tray was empty and I had to go back to my gorgeous refuge to replenish.

It was really fun - all types of people from old guard bloggers to new on the scenes. I talked birthday parties with Silverbrow and bicep exercises with Jay Rayner (he's got to come and scoop in the van if he really wants guns to be proud of).

As for the taste of the chocolate, it was a bit of a one man race. I tried a little bit of the rest but how could it ever be any kind of competition when Paul was there with that quality and those flavours?

Theobroma Cac-OW!

It's such a pity. On paper it looks as though Chiswick's 'chocolate lounge', Theobroma Cacao, should be everything you want and more. It is a dingly-dell of a place with every surface occupied by great abundant bowls of chocolate. There are choc-covered stuffed prunes, chocolate puddings, choc-dipped stem ginger, toasted almond chocolates, champagne and lavender (beautiful pale blue and white). Turn your gaze upwards and there are shoes of chocolate, Easter eggs galore, chocolate lollipops...and so it goes on. The overall effect should be entrancing - and it almost is - except for a few things.

My suspicions always arise when entering a chocolate shop that doesn't smell of chocolate. The majority of standard choc shops smell of sugar; the really good ones engulf you with their great billowing aroma of deep, dark cacao; whilst TC simply smells...tired.

I ventured further to the 'try-me' bowls and all was confirmed when, rather than having flavours flooding my palate as I chomped down on some 70% Venezuelan, there was a lousy, deadening thud-ette of stale chocolate that would only ever have been unremarkable at its best.



That wasn't great but then came our hot chocolates. For £3.80 each these had every opportunity to excel. 'Can we have mochas?' we asked. 'No, we only do coffee flavour' came the curt reply. 'But you offer espresso'. Yes, but we cannot put them together', the response. 'OK, then can we have three hot chocolates and three espressos on the side?'. 'Sure'.

Odd.

When they eventually arrived we took off the lids, blew and went in for the first sip. All of us burned our mouths and one of us scorched her throat. I approached the counter, nicely like, telling the woman that hot choc shouldn't be served scalding like that and that we were all now donning rasping, burnt tongues.

Nothing. Not an apology or even slight hint of giving a damn. She looked vacant.

It's such a shame. Why do people even bother when all they're prepared to offer is a sad version of something? They've gone to so much trouble to make the place look nice, why not continue through to the quality? But also, why is customer experience so low on the agenda of so many places in this town? It's the easiest thing in the world and makes all the difference in the....universe.