For anyone who knows me, even just a little, you know I love food. I love cooking, baking, sautéing, whisking, and you know what…I am pretty damn good at it. Food is how I show love. For me to design, plan and prepare a meal for people is me saying to them, "I love you more than wine," which is saying something. 

For many of us, summer is more entertaining than most other times of the year. The BBQ is scraped down, recipes dusted off, pies crimped, and we go to work impressively feeding those we love (and a few we don't.)

But of all the soufflés that have risen or Pavlova's devoured, there is one thing, one…that has been asked for the most and seriously impresses even the most experienced bakers…and that is my Montreal Bagels.

Is there anything more British than a cuppa tea? Henry James said, there are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as "afternoon tea".  What is it about this magic elixir that seems to make the problems of the day dissolve into the bottom of a teacup...at least temporarily. 165 million cups of tea are drunk everyday in the U.K, so the Brits might be onto something.

Ok, maybe it's because I've been pretty much trapped in my flat for a year now, and my brain has gone a little funky. I mean, it's hard to be writing about A Broad In London if all I'm experiencing is a thirty-minute walk to the Waitrose (weather dependant) or my unsanctioned hair colouring in the dimly lit basement of my stylist's salon. I mean, we are living in a world right now where it's legal to roll yourself a big fatty and get high on the streets of Toronto but not get your hair highlighted. This world has gone to pot, literally.