A big fat gastronomic wedding

Post the excitement of New York and Miami and with the Easter holidays looming, I was expecting a couple of weeks to calm down, catch my breath and get my feet back under the table, or preferably on top of a lounger by the pool.

Not so. First day back and I was interviewing like a demon. Richard E Grant was charming, as we discussed the South of France, he quipped: ‘Are you doing this interview from your sun lounger then?’ If only he knew how near the truth he was.

Billy Connolly was a dream, just as funny off camera she you secretly hope he will be (particularly as a fair few comedians I’ve interviewed are surly and completely unfunny as themselves. Naming no names but a certain rubbery faced Blackadder star was one of the very worst.) Billy on the other hand is a brilliant raconteur as well as searingly honest and not afraid to say what he thinks, which is also a rarity among the A list these days.

And Ashley Jensen, of Extras and Ugly Betty, was every bit as down to earth as you would hope, holding forth on everything from Ricky Gervais’ controversial performance at the Golden Globes and life in Hollywood to the difficulties of losing pregnancy weight and refreshingly, how in the plastic fantastic world of LA, packing a few extra pounds of post baby weight really doesn’t bother her.

Then we had the pleasure of Poppy’s company for six days, Issy’s best pal from London. They have known each other since birth when her mum and I used to sneak off to the David Lloyd outdoor pool during our precious few weeks of maternity leave in the long hot summer of ’99 and place them side by side in their car seats. They are like sisters, born eight days apart and sharing an insatiable passion for chocolate, popcorn and fit Abercrombie male models.

We had a week of beaching, going wild at the Labyrinth adventure park in Villeneuve-Loubet and shopping in Cannes. Since Pops left I have been finding sweet wrappers, chocolate foil and empty popcorn bags stuffed into carrier bags and hidden not so discreetly all around the garden, so I obviously didn’t foil their nightly midnight feasts.

The week was rounded off by Eric and Corinne’s long-awaited wedding. After a month of relentless hot sunshine, it poured with rain on the big day but not even the storms could dampen the joy of seeing the happy couple above exchange vows at the Mairie in Bar sur Loup. It was the quickest wedding I’ve ever been to, half an hour from arrival to finishing the photos on the steps outside under storm clouds, and then the celebrations really began in earnest. We had aperos and canapés at their restaurant Michelangelo before moving onto La Bastide aux Oliviers in Vence, a beautiful chambre d’hotes with a wedding marquee in the grounds.

Now the French are a nation of food and wine lovers and Eric is a chef and a perfectionist to boot so it was obvious that the catering was going to be top notch. But oh my God, I now need to run five marathons to work off the delicious array of delicacies we waded through that night. Jerome Ravel provided the catering and the tiny bouchees of spicy crab and avocado, quails eggs on caramelised onions, mozzarella and sun dried tomato skewers, crab morues, tempura courgette flowers, stuffed aubergines, marinaded barbecued prawns and scallops washed down with Champagne flowed until 11pm.

Then to our utter astonishment, we were ushered to tables to sit down for the wedding breakfast proper of perfectly pink duck, sea bream and mountain cheese from the Savoyarde village where Corinne’s family come from. At 1.30am, what can only be described as a juggernaut sized trolley rolled out of the wings laden with around 500tiny servings of home-made tiramisu, crème brulee, choux buns, and I cannot remember what else.

There were many memorable moments, not least during the vows when Eric, in response to being asked if he would take Corinne as his wife, uttered the French equivalent of ‘Bring it on!’ Then, as we sat down at 11pm to continue the food fest, he took the floor with Corinne for the first dance, and suddenly everyone got up and joined them in a mad frenzy of boogying for an hour before reluctantly taking to their seats to eat!

The partying continued until 4.30am and resumed a few short hours later on Sunday for brunch back at Michelangelo with all the other wedding guests still looking as fresh as daisies. Meanwhile Fiona and I sat wearily in dark glasses trying to sip a hair of the dog glass of pink Champagne. We felt like even bigger lightweights when Corinne’s 94-year-old grandpa arrived with his walking stick and greeted everyone with a nifty shimmy, a broad grin and a cheery ‘Bonjour tout le monde!’

I’ve been to many weddings but this was my first French one and I was struck by how friendly everyone was and how quick they were to embrace les Anglais. Along with Fi and Graham, we were the only English guests, the rest having travelled from Paris, Annecy and even the Phillipines. If Will and Kate have half as good a time at their nuptials on Friday, they will be very lucky indeed.

Miami V nice

My Transatlantic adventure continued when I waved goodbye to the girls and the handyman at JFK after a fabulous weekend and hopped on a flight to Miami. I got a flavour of what to expect at Miami airport waiting for my baggage at midnight....the skirts were short, the tops were even shorter and there were a lot of mahogany tans and varying shades of pink clothing going on.

On arrival at the W South Beach, however, good taste and cool vibes returned with a vengeance and even though it was 1am, I spent the next hour marvelling at my suite. Overlooking South Beach, it was enormous, with a mammoth bed boasting the best pillows I’ve ever slept on, and Wi-Fi, iPod docking station, DVD/CD player, plasma screen and a huge bathroom full of Bliss Spa products. Given that this was home for the next five days, I had to indulge my OCD tendencies and unpack immediately as you never know on a work trip when you are next going to see your room. This is why Miss Emma Cox and myself made full use of the lounger above at any given opportunity.

Breakfast was on the terrace with a balmy breeze blowing, and given the spread on offer, eggs Benedict, pancakes, bagels, smoked salmon, fruit, granola etc it was tempting to eat a day’s worth of food at one sitting...until I remembered that I was going to be hanging out with Elle ‘The Body’ Macpherson and the finalists of this year’s Britain’s Next Top Model, which returns to Sky Living later this year. That thought alone was enough to keep me in check, funnily enough.

While a touch of luxury is important, what is most important of all is great service and the service at the W is top notch. I’ve sampled their outposts in Sydney, San Francisco, New York, Montreal and LA and they all deliver on this score. The staff are friendly, full of initiative and eager to help without being in your face.

The pool, which is set back from the beach, is the perfect place to lounge during the day and the bar is a cool hang out for a cocktail in the evening. What more could you ask for...oh yes, the Wall Lounge, adjacent to the hotel, which had to be sampled purely in the interests of research of course, and was packed on Tuesday evening. It would give any West End club a run for its money.

I’m lucky enough to be invited on quite a few foreign jobs (commonly referred to in my house as journos holidays, I know not why) and sometimes you don’t know who you are going to be thrown together with, or how it is all going to pan out. You just have to hope for the best.

I have to say my fellow scribes and PR supremos Jakki and Justin were on top form, even when faced with a potential hijack situation in a taxi. We’d asked to go to the Miami Dolphins sports stadium but somehow ended up in Fort Lauderdale on a two hour $200 ride from hell. The driver stopped for petrol twice and the second time, with one of our number desperate for a pee and the rest of us fearful of ending up in a Miami Vice crack den, all of us piled out throwing ourselves over car seats as the driver paid for his petrol in our haste to escape a grisly fate. It turns out that when you ask for a destination in Miami, you must actually say Miami, otherwise you might end up in Fort Lauderdale, Fort Worth or maybe even Fort Knox.

Interviews done (Elle and designer Julien Macdonald were my highlights, she looks AMAZING and he is naturally a very funny man) we even found time for a swim in the waves, but not before Justin had scared the life out of everyone with his constant reminder to beware of sharks, followed by a very convincing impression of a shark attack (the fact that this took place in the pool meant that we lived to tell the tale.)

So, if you are lucky enough to be leaving the blink-and-you-miss-it UK spring sunshine for toasty Miami shores anytime soon, here are my top tips.

• The W South Beach on Collins – simply the coolest hotel in the best location with sublime service. We popped into a couple of other hotels while there...they didn’t even come close. http://www.wsouthbeach.com
• Soho Beach Club – the Florida outpost of Soho House, this retro bar and restaurant is decorated with white pea lights and has exactly the feel you would expect of the London club on its holidays. You need your name on the door.
• Blue Door Fish restaurant at the Delano – this legendary hotel in Miami still has what it takes to impress. The Blue Door Fish was buzzing on a Tuesday night with a lively crowd who were ready to party after finishing supper. I am heartily recommending the crabvacat as well as the scallops...perfection. Wish I’d had the time to sample the rest of the menu.
• Sushisamba on Lincoln Boulevard – Craig David, who lives in a hotel suite in Miami, met our own lovely Kay from Heat for drinks here on Tuesday so we thought we’d give it a whirl the following night, minus Craig who was otherwise engaged on Wednesday...and Thursday, Friday and Saturday. The sushi is fantastic – tempura prawn iso rolls and spicy tuna rolls were my highlight and the prawn and vegetable tempura we kicked off with defy description. Just remember to take your ID if you want a glass of wine, the laws are strict and the waitress wouldn’t serve me until I flashed my Amex saying member since 93! I know I should be flattered but when that glass of prosecco was slipping from my clutches it wasn’t pretty.
• Quattro Gastronomica on Lincoln Boulevard – a cosy Italian trattoria which does a great spaghetti alla vongole, rivalling any I’ve had in Sestri Levante and San Remo.
• The Everglades at Coopertown – no great restaurants but plenty of alligators to admire as you power down the water channels in an air boat - just don’t trail your hands in the water!

Arriving back last Saturday night in Nice after three flights and 28 hours on the road (it’s tough at the top) was no anti-climax as the weather has finally turned to proper spring/summer temperatures. All angst ridden memories of almost missing my New York flight back due to ridiculous queues at security (a worrying pattern is emerging at airports) were wiped out by seeing the wisteria blooming, the pool climbing up to double figures in less than two weeks and the spring jasmine starting to flower and smelling divine. Much as I love being on the road and having adventures, it’s always good to get back home.

The Big Apple

I’m writing this sitting at JFK one leg down into three flights home and remembering all the great bits about our stay in New York.

But the story has to start with the stress filled journey getting to the airport, as nothing is ever simple in the Kershaw household. There we were all packed, fairly organised and waiting for the girls to come home from school so we could leave for Nice and our flight, which had recently been changed from 3pm to 5pm.

As I checked through passports, travel documents and many pieces of paper, I found the original booking and thought it might be useful to print off the updated flight times. Imagine my horror at 1.30pm when I logged onto the booking to see the original flight time 3pm flash up. After many minutes frantically scrolling through, it finally dawned on me that it wasn’t connecting NY flights to London that had been changed, it was my mum’s forthcoming May flight home from our house, which happened to also be at 3pm and have the same flight number!

Cue major panic as we bundled the cases, girls and dogs into the car, drove manically to Fi’s to turf out the dogs, who then started chasing our car off the drive in rain, leaving BSL precisely one hour before our flight was due to take off. We made it in 25 mental minutes, and after dumping them and the cases at kiss and fly, I parked and legged it complete with heavy hand luggage to the terminal, arriving just as check in was closing.

As we sat on the plane we worked out that less than an hour before, we were at home in meltdown mode. Amazing what you can achieve when the traffic is with you and the adrenaline is pumping. What a start to the trip!

Arriving at JFK, the girls were desperate to get into the city and watching their faces as the Manhattan skyline came into view was nothing short of magical. I think it is one of the world’s best views, it never gets any less exciting no matter how many times you have been to New York. We arrived at The Element Times Square West, a brand new eco-hotel which is part of the Starwood group, famous for the brilliant W hotel chain which I have stayed at many times.

It’s a more budget conscious, slightly less lux version of the W. Urban pared down utilitarian chic best describes it, and it’s a brilliant choice for anyone with a green leaning and a mid budget. Certain aspects are similar to the W....amazingly comfortable beds and pillows, fantastic Egyptian linens, plasma TVs and well appointed bathrooms. There are no overpriced mini bars, where moving a can of Pringles invites a $6 charge on your bill instantly, instead The Element boasts kitchenettes, so you can buy less expensive versions of the mini bar contents at the local mini mart.

They also do a great complimentary breakfast but you have to be up early to get the best choice of fresh fruit, bagels, muffins and hot breakfast. One niggle, no toasters which renders bagels and English muffins a bit redundant. Plus there is a great little apero each week night Monday to Thursday, where they lay out wine, Caesar salad and nibbles, again gratis to hotel guests. The gym is also well equipped and the hotel is so central to Times Square and mid town Manhattan that getting around is very easy. Check it out if you are heading to NYC...you won’t regret it. http://www.starwoodhotels.com/element/property/overview/index.html?

We did Top of the Rock at the Rockefeller Centre and had a fab view of the Empire State Building, which you don’t get if you are viewing from the ESB instead, took the Staten Island ferry to look at the Statue of Liberty and explored SoHo, Greenwich Village, Wall Street, West Village, Central Park, Fifth Ave, in fact all the usual haunts as well as spending most of the morning in Forever 21, a teen heaven which sells fashion at ridiculously low prices. As it was raining and it was Livvy’s 16th birthday, I relented and spent almost an hour in the changing rooms giving my opinion on their many dazzling outfits.

We headed to Abercrombie so the girls could have their photo taken with the topless hunk at the front door. Yyou may or may not be relieved to hear that I (reluctantly) passed on this photo opportunity myself. Then it was off to Tiffanys on 5th Ave, minus the croissant Audrey H had when she went, which was deemed too cheesy by far to re-enact. The marvellous assistant there helped the girls choose a necklace and a charm within budget to remember their trip by.

We also passed Ground Zero, which still has an eerie atmosphere and sends chills down the spine when you look at the vast open space amid all the other skyscrapers. A year before 9/11, I took my mum to the top of the Twin Towers to look at the views across the river and we wandered around the shopping mall immediately below. There is a very moving memorial in the West Village with hand painted tiles inscribed with messages to those who lost their lives that day, I defy anyone not to shed a tear while reading them.

We headed to the Mercer Kitchen for lunch in Soho and had a fab birthday celebration before spending the rest of the afternoon on foot while the girls pretended to be Gossip Girls and spent huge amounts of dollars. Other great finds include Sardis, a famous old theatreland restaurant a lot like Joe Allens where the walls are lined with caricatures of famous Broadway stars. Ever since Jimmy Cagney’s was stolen on the day he died, the owners have insisted on two identical caricatures, one of which is given to the star so that if one is stolen it is able to be replaced. Ruhlman’s, opposite the Rockefeller Centre, is another NYC stalwart, with a sunny terrace and great brasserie menu. The lobster rolls and fries were amazing.

Harrisons in Tribeca was buzzing at the weekend, it’s the closest New York has to a gastropub and the stand out dishes were the lightly fried skate and home-made gnocchi. The only place that was over-rated, touristy and uninspiring was Seaport in South Street.

Mother’s Day was spent wandering around West Village in the sunshine before we headed for the airport so that the guys could fly home and I could fly to Miami...but that’s another story for another day.

One brave lady

Just a short post today....It's easy to get caught up in the frivolity and petty silly stuff, worrying about things that in the great scheme don't really matter.

I am posting an article published yesterday in The Mirror, written by one of my Fleet Street colleagues, about her battle with cancer. It sounds depressing but Sue, who is not only a great writer but also a fair boss and a very kind and funny person, has managed to turn a brutal subject into a very honest, heart-warming and humorous - a strange word to use when talking about cancer - read.

Judge for yourselves. And good luck Sue.

http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/top-stories/2011/03/23/sue-carroll-my-cancer-fight-mirror-columnist-opens-her-heart-over-pancreatic-tumour-115875-23009908/

The wonderful world of Disney

So it was that I left the rainy, cold Cote d’Azur for warm, sunny Paris. After five long days of relentless torrential downpours, it felt good to get off a plane in spring sunshine. It did feel wrong to be going sans kids to the world’s most famous playground but I soon dispensed with any guilt on arrival at the Disneyland Paris hotel.

You gotta love the Japanese...the lady in front of me was clicking away at the motorway exit signs for Disneyland and filming the motorway ahead on the hotel shuttle from the airport. Can you imagine what she was like once she actually got there?

We arrived at a pink palace which smells of baby’s bottoms (clean ones) and talcum powder. Someone in the know told me that every Disney venue in the world has the same ‘eau de Disney’ aroma which I guess is meant to transport you back in time to your childhood. As you can see from the photo, I made friends very quickly.

Following a sumptuous lunch and conference introduction, we were taken on a tour of the park. For tour, read being cajoled onto rollercoasters that in normal circumstances I would not dream of stepping anywhere near. My last rollercoaster ride was in Australia and I humiliated myself by crying and throwing up (aged 20, not my coolest moment) so how I found myself on Space Mountain 2 and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Peril is anyone’s guess. I can only say it was in the interests of appearing professional and doing my job properly. I emerged from both rides hoarse from screaming and had angry red fingernail digs in the palms of both hands...it certainly broke the ice with the rest of the press pack and I think I made quite an impression on Paul from the Express and the girl from Sky magazine who were sitting in front of me.

One of the highlights of the trip was managing to eat three four-course meals in the space of 24 hours, not including breakfast. I could never go on a cruise as when it is all laid out delectably in front of you, it is impossible to pick the sensible salad option and sail past the dessert trolley. Drastic measures were called for so on Saturday morning, following a fresh dump of late season snow, I headed off toute seule for a morning skiing. There are definite advantages to going it alone, even if you do look like Billy no mates...the highlights are...

• Being able to ski all morning without being forced to stop for a ‘rest’ every half a run or peeling off at the bar for a refuel every hour. Some people would see this as a lowlight.
• Playing Phoenix there and back without being told to turn it down/off.
• Being able to dance at the wheel, which involves bouncing the shoulders and nodding the head and singing so loudly that you are in danger of drowning out the lyrics with NO-ONE telling you to shut up or grow up.
• Driving like a rally star around the gorgeous alpine roads that lead to Greolieres and marvelling at the views from the ridge at the top.
• Getting sprayed by white mist as you drive through the Gorge du Loup past the waterfall which is so amazing that people stop dead in the middle of the road to admire it (you only ever notice it on the way home.)
• Dumping the skis on the terrace to pull up a sun lounger having done three fantastic hours and still being home in time for lunch.

What a perfect end to the week.

Lost in translation

Did I mention that I used to be the only French speaker in this family? Ergo, everyone was super impressed when I ordered coffee and pastries on ski trips to the Alps or asked where the toilets were in flawless French. Now I have children who correct my grammar while having a bloody good laugh at my expense.

I was about to send an email responding to our friends Eric and Corinne’s wedding invitation in the village next month. They took over our local pizzeria 18 months after it shut down and turned it into the perfect local restaurant – great pizzas, fantastic plat du jours, decent wine, amazing views from the terrace and a very warm welcome always. And very best of all, walking distance from home. I must have been overcome at the thought of going to a real French wedding, I have no other excuse for getting it so wrong.

Here’s what I thought I had written: ‘I am looking forward to your wedding. We will bring the girls to the ceremony and for the celebration drink at Michelangelo but then they will go home (subtext: leaving us to party late into the night.’) Literal translation: ‘I cannot wait to party at your wedding. The girls will come to the town hall and then the drink will flow at Michelangelo!’ I was obviously thinking aloud. Between tears of laughter as she read over my shoulder, Liv said, Oh mum, you sound like such a party animal....all I can say is old habits die hard.

This was on top of an attack of maternal guilt earlier. I had already told the girls I was going to Paris at the end of the month on a job and they were grrring through gritted teeth. After last summer’s visit, it is their favourite city in the world, although I’m sure New York in a couple of weeks will offer Paris some competition. Then today I was asked to do another job in Disneyland Paris next week. We have never done Disneyland Paris together, or Disneyland Florida (that was another job, or journos holiday as they put it so disparagingly) so the fact that their 40-something mum is going to hang out with Minnie and Mickey when they have never been is a bit of an issue. Clearly I will have to seek out famous animals for autographs.

I have never lived down the fact that I went to Lapland twice to meet Santa (purely in the interests of work of course) while the girls were left languishing at home. We spent the following Christmas in Lapland en famille out of guilt that I had met the ‘real’ Santa not once but twice, while they had to make do with stolen glimpses of an impostor on Christmas Eve.

Before I am reported to social services for neglect I should point out that before they reached 10, they had clocked up serious air miles in Mauritius, San Francisco, Canada, the Virgin Islands and various Caribbean destinations, to the point where they preferred camping trips in Dorset and the New Forest to long jaunts from Heathrow.

On the other hand, their mother never tires of jumping on a plane. This month is shaping up to be a good one...Paris, Paris, New York and Miami hot on each others’ tails. Work, work, pleasure (NY is for Liv’s 16th birthday) then work. It’s a lovely feeling to offer your 16yo the choice of how to celebrate and she eschews the big crazy party with all her mates for a family city break (although if I were her I would have tried for both. She has a lot to learn.)

Working in some of the most glamorous cities on the planet can hardly be described as work in the true sense of the word. Especially when you are staying at the W in South Beach and The Element, a new eco friendly Starwood hotel in Times Square. After a chilly winter, I’m looking forward to Miami particularly with Elle Macpherson and the latest batch of BNTM finalists. I hear the surf is pretty good too, but of course it will be observed from the balcony whilst writing up interviews rather than tested in the flesh....

Today’s pic is of the pool this afternoon in spring sunshine although it wasn’t quite bikini climes. Nonetheless it had the desired effect when I posted it on Facebook earlier....lots angry from Tunbridge Wells postings. We were just getting into the spring vibe on Sunday when Tony and Shan came for lunch....it was so hot we ate on the terrace and only came in at sunset when it got a bit shivery. Since then there’s been a bite in the air which is not really cricket for almost mid March. I am trying to fly in the face of it (dresses, gladiators, goose bumps) but it’s not easy.

Half term rules

It has its downsides...kids laying in bed until way past noon in their PJs fixated to the internet in bedrooms resembling a war zone, gazillions of kids’ friends round dominating the sofas and TV, the fridge being emptied on a daily basis due to permanent munching from certain younger members of the family, and one much older one, but the upside of school holidays when you work from home is that you feel like you are on holiday too. Don’t know how I will cope when the girls leave home...

We had the pleasure of Clare, Nick and lovely Miss Ruby visiting from Parker Towers in Twickenham for a few days so we headed off for some skiing in gorgeous conditions last Monday. Clare eschewed the pistes for a deckchair at the 504, and actually had the nerve to tell me she was exhausted from all the fresh air as we drove home that evening. That evil little drag TK Cheiron had its way with new visitors as usual, chucking Ruby off halfway up, which meant Nick had to leap off mid-way too. Hasty arrangements were made to come down two different routes and pick them up en route and rather hilariously, Handyman inadvertently chose the black run while I took the gentle red with the girls.

Naturally, no-one managed to find each other, which meant a regrouping coffee break after our second run. Regular readers of this column will know that handyman and skiing are not a natural fit. He once said on the chair lift on a beautiful sunny, New Year’s Day with no crowds and fresh powder everywhere: ‘Now, in a perfect world, I would be lying on a sun lounger on the beach in Barbados, not freezing to death on this lift.’ He was deadly serious. And he never chooses to ski a black, ever. So it will come as no great shock to hear that I found him slumped in a deckchair, nursing a coffee and complaining that his knees had just been shot to pieces by the moguls.

I suspect it was all an elaborate ruse to enable lengthy recuperation at the restaurant for virtually the rest of the day, gamely dressed up as ‘keeping our non-skiing guest company.’ You can see from the photo above that those in the know at Greolieres had advance warning of Iain's brave rescue mission.

The following day was a walking-the-dogs-on-the-beach day, which was just a ruse for lunching at the fabulous Brocherie II in la Napoule, where a stupendous five course menu marin accompanied by a few bottles of Chateau Maime on the terrace watching the yachts bob in the harbour can easily see you from lunch into very late afternoon indeed. Wednesday was spent in Saint-Paul de Vence admiring the beautiful views from the Colombe d’Or and tucking into a mid-afternoon snack of home-made crepes. Fair to say we all ate our own bodyweight in five days so the weekend has been spent trying to regain some sort of normal routine which doesn’t involve eating every two hours.

Tonight being the Oscars, it felt right to go and see The King’s Speech in Cannes this afternoon – a truly great film that deserves to sweep the board later in LA. Great films are harder to make now – if it’s not a sequel or a comic strip, funding is notoriously difficult to secure so the fact that this low budget Brit effort, which cost a modest £10million to make, has already taken close to $100 million at the US box office is remarkable. I interviewed Colin when he played Mr Darcy in Pride and Prejudice, and Helena when she starred in Henry VIII, and both were very normal, unassuming, down to earth individuals in a business where possessing one of those qualities is a rarity, let alone all three. Go Colin, go Helena and go, go, go Geoffrey.