Sun, Fun and Soju

After a hectic week, I had been planning to have a fairly quiet weekend, and although I was out and about quite a bit, the weather was so unusually nice that most of it was spent sitting in the sunshine eating and drinking. A colleague (and friend) from New York is in town for a couple of weeks and came to stay chez moi last night. Yesterday lunchtime, we headed to Maltby Street for some gin bloody marys and pulled pork sandwiches at Ropewalk, splitting a pistachio and cherry panna cotta for pudding.

Little Bird Gin bloody mary and a pulled pork sarnie.

Pastries from Polly Smadja.

I bought a new camera on Friday — the Canon EOS 100D — and I was keen to test it out, so we wandered along the river. My friend was surprised to see Tower Bridge opening and so was I. I told her that it happened only rarely, so of course we saw it opening for a second time later that evening.

Tower Bridge opening up.

It is The Bro's birthday today, so went out to celebrate with him last night, starting at The Woolpack, on Bermondsey Street, and then heading on for Korean BBQ and plenty of Soju at the Old Justice, in Bermondsey. I'm slowly getting into Soju, and the food — especially the bulgogi — was delicious and very good value.

Korean-style birthday fun.

As I hadn't eaten enough this weekend, I then went to join The Bro and his lady for brunch at Bea's Diner, which is now opening on Sundays too. Hooray! Although the pancakes are great there, I went for the poached eggs with hollandaise sauce on a toasted English muffin, which was delicious too. Two mugs of the "bottomless" coffee from Hasbean helped to ward off the effects of last night's Soju.

Poached eggs at Bea's Diner.

Cocktails at Browns.

So too did the Bramble I had at the Shad Thames branch of Browns. It was glorious to sit in the sunshine sipping something cool and fruity, while people watching. I then took my new camera for another walk along the Thames, this time towards Rotherhithe, before returning home via Southwark Park, where I paparazza-ed an unsuspecting couple.

A brave kitty enjoys the view.

Lazing on a sunny afternoon.

Vive l'été!

A Whistle-Stop Tour of Helsinki's Design District

When it comes to finding interesting places in new cities, I have a few strategies. The first is to identify online a few independent espresso bars and, if time, boutiques and secret-speakeasy-style cocktail bars. This means that I can wander with a purpose, and usually, I will find other cool venues in the same area.  On business trips, when I know I won't have much time for exploring, I prioritise the coffee. Luckily, in Helsinki, a lot of the good places to grab a macchiato happen to be in the same area — the design district.

Pino, a fab Helsinki stationery shop.

So, armed with the addresses of the Kaffa Roastery and a stationery shop I'd found online called Pino, I headed off to the design district, which is in the south-west corner of the city centre. Pino sells beautiful stationery, as well as a carefully curated collection of stylish and often useful objects for the home. I told the sales assistant she needed to open a branch in London. I then had to try very hard not to buy all the things. I think I did quite well to only pick up a couple of notebooks (the pink ones in the haul photo below), some decorative tape and a geometric grey dish.

Stylish smoke alarms at the Design Forum.

I had heard about a Font Walk you could do in Helsinki and asked where I could pick up a map, but the Pino assistant pointed me instead in the direction of the Design Forum. They didn't have the Font Walk map, but they did give me a copy of a map of the design district. I didn't have time to do a very in-depth tour, so I focused on the streets with the biggest number of interesting shops, cafés and galleries. But first, I had a look around the Design Forum. Again, I was taken aback by the huge number of beautiful objects. My favourite was probably the most stylish smoke alarms I've ever seen. I wish I'd bought one, rather than restricting myself to a couple of vintage postcards.

The kitchen section at Peroba.

Next on my list was Peroba, a lifestyle boutique, with a jealousy-inspiring kitchenware section. The thing about all of these Helsinki stores is that they are relatively small, but every item has been carefully selected for its beauty and/or usefulness.

Lunch at Sis.

I had lunch at a café-deli called Sis. They have several branches in Helsinki, and I can only describe it as a much more minimalist version of Dean & Deluca. It's certainly the most elegant place I've ever sat to eat a sandwich (buffalo mozzarella, tomato and home-made pesto) and a blueberry juice! To be honest, though, it would be hard not to find somewhere nice for lunch or dinner in the design district.

WTF, Helsinki?

My final stop was a shop called Moko Market, which is a sort of upscale version of the home section of Anthropologie, but with a more carefully curated selection of products, and an integrated café-deli section (it also has an entrance into Kaffa, which is handy).

Moko Market. I could have spent the afternoon here!

I lusted over a beautiful turquoise desk and some very stylish outdoor furniture, but I wasn't sure BA would agree with me about appropriate quantities of checked baggage.

In the circumstances, I thought I was quite modest with my shopping: a few bits from Pino, some coffee  and single-origin chocolate from Kaffa, and a couple of postcards. When I'm rich and looking to kit out my home, I'll definitely come back to Helsinki. With a much bigger suitcase.

Helsinki design haul.

The Helsinki Caffeine Chronicles Part II

I was too busy working this week to go off and explore the outer reaches of Helsinki, but on my last day, I did have a couple of spare hours before I had to head off to the airport. Armed with only three addresses, I managed to do a two-hour walk through Helsinki's design district (of which more to come) and saw a lot of my favourite things: specialty coffee coffee, stylish homeware boutiques, stationery shops and fine architecture.

Kaffa Roastery, Helsinki.

The Helsinki Caffeine Chronicles Part I

The thing about travelling to Helsinki from London is that although Finland is only two hours ahead of the UK, the time difference is hard to get used to, especially around midsummer, because it stays light so late. You think it's about 10 pm and then look at your watch and realise it's gone midnight. Oops! And then when you have to get up at 6.30 in the morning, your body feels tricked and is convinced it's really still 4.30 am. 

Four late nights and early mornings in a row meant I was in serious need of a constant supply of good coffee during my trip, and to my delight, Helsinki more than delivered.

Fratello, Helsinki

Kippis, Helsinki

And so my second new country for 2013 is...Finland. I'm in Helsinki for a few days for a conference, and although I have a busy schedule while I'm here, I'm hoping to see a bit of the city too. 

Something's fishy...

Windows of Opportunity

Finding a restaurant in the West End suitable for Sunday lunch with the family today — i.e. one that takes bookings — proved relatively easy. As it turned out, we probably didn't need to book our table at Heaton, Butler and Bayne, which opened a few weeks ago in Covent Garden, as there were only a few other occupied tables throughout our sitting. Still, it did mean we got 50% off our food, thanks to TopTable.

Heaton, Butler & Bayne, Floral Street.

They used to make glass here. Now they fill glasses.

On the site of a former stained glass factory, which was run by the eponymous Heaton, Butler and Bayne, the restaurant is on the relatively unassuming Floral Street. The lack of footfall may have contributed to the lack of bums on seats, which is a shame as we had a really nice lunch (it may have been slightly less awkward if they had turned on the music earlier). It's a nice space, with lots of interesting nooks and crannies, although no stained glass that I noticed. I really liked the design and also the crockery — the milk for Maman's tea came in a tiny milk bottle, and I was eyeing up the bowl for my chips.

To try to fend off a burgeoning cold, I decided to order a cocktail rather than wine, and the Spring Breeze (sloe gin, basil, lemon and Prosecco) certainly blew away a few cobwebs. It was strong and very fruity — my ideal cocktail, in short. The wine list is fairly extensive, with a number of wines available by the carafe.

Spring Breeze cocktail.

In an attempt to save some room for a potential pudding, I skipped the starter, although The Bro's gazpacho with basil pesto looked good. Most of us had the roast beef for our main course. The beef was cooked really nicely, and came with a lovely crispy Yorkshire pudding and green beans. This meant that I could also try the triple-cooked chips as a side, rather than roast potatoes (sacrilege, I know). The chips were great, actually. Crispy on the outside and moist and soft on the inside. I ate far too many of my portion. The menu does vary slightly from day to day, depending on what's fresh. Unlike many other central London restaurants of its ilk, the menu is also relatively unfussy: simple combinations of ingredients cooked really well.

Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. With triple-cooked chips.

Happily, I did manage to order a pudding, although I was pretty full (the main course portions are plenty big enough for me, but aren't huge, as a warning). It was tough deciding between the doughnuts with a caramel cream filling and the frozen Dime bar cake, which was technically on the set menu rather than the à la carte. As I had had some great doughnuts recently, courtesy of You Doughnut!, I went for the Dime bar cake, which was creamy and delicious, complete with crunchy, Dime-bar-esque pieces. It took me back to my Dime Bar Crunch days at G and Ds in Oxford.

Frozen Daim Bar cake.

With the discount on the food, the bill was pretty reasonable, although it might have started feeling a little too pricey if we'd paid full price, especially because the atmosphere wasn't the greatest — it's nice to have at least a little bit of bustle, and if not, do put some music on! I hope more people discover Heaton, Butler and Bayne, because it's a beautifully designed spot, with great food and interesting cocktails. I'm not saying that I want to have to queue for two hours to prove how much I want to eat there, but a few more filled tables would have gone a long way.

Heaton, Butler and Bayne. 27c Floral Street, London, WC2E 9EZ (Tube: Leicester Square or Covent Garden). Website. Twitter.

The Caffeine Chronicles: FWD Coffee

UPDATE: Fix 126 is now FWD Coffee.

It's hard to believe it's the day after Midsummer, when London has been battered by a ferocious wind all day. I sought refuge in a Shoreditch coffee bar called Fix 126, on Curtain Road, in that trendy triangle between Old Street, Shoreditch High Street and Great Eastern Street.

Fix 126, Shoreditch: MacBooks and macchiati

With its exposed brick walls and old-school communal tables, Fix 126 was full of MacBooks, even on a Saturday afternoon. There are quite a few places to sit inside, and it's definitely less cramped than some of its cousins on the more touristy streets of Shoreditch, but during the week, it's probably difficult to get a table unless you're staking your space early in the day. Today, though, there was plenty of room, and I was able to snag a spot next to the Grauniad and Times Saturday magazines, while I waited for my coffee.

Fix uses coffee from Climpsons & Sons on Broadway Market, and the house blend is, apparently, "sweet, smooth and strong with a mild citrus acidity." My double macchiato was certainly smooth and strong, and about as sweet as I would want it to be. In fact, it was so good, I wanted to follow up my macchiato chaser, with a longer pour over, but I'd already had a couple of Aeropress brews earlier in the day, which was probably enough caffeine, even for me. They have a few cakes and pastries available, but apart from the brownies

Double macchiato at Fix 126

Once the rain had stopped, I wandered back down Shoreditch High Street, via Boxpark, where I stopped by The English Tee Shop's pop-up store. They have awesome t-shirts, tote bags and mugs, with designs that would delight anyone with a love of lexicography or typography. I really liked the "quirky, quirkier, quirkiest" tee, which was super soft, but I wasn't completely happy with the fit, so I settled for a handmade "polyglot" mug. The English Tee Shop is at Boxpark until tomorrow, but they have an online shop too. Check them out.

Fix 126. 126 Curtain Road, London, EC2A 3PJ (Tube: Old Street or Shoreditch High Street). Website. Instagram.

The Burger Bulletin: Balthazar London

Despite numerous trips to the Big Apple over the past few years, I've somehow never managed to go for dinner at Balthazar. I went for breakfast once, four or five years ago, and I've had dinner at several of its sister restaurants — Pulino's, Pastis and the Minetta Tavern — but an evening meal at Balthazar has remained elusive. Last time we tried, we couldn't even get a reservation for 10.30 pm on a Wednesday. As such, I assumed that it would prove as problematic to get a table in the relatively new London outpost, and yet a table was waiting for us at 6 o'clock last night.

Balthazar London. Seems strangely familiar...

Inside, Balthazar London looks just like its New York sister: a grand, high-ceilinged French brasserie, as envisaged by an American. There are comfy red leather booths, as well as a well-stocked bar and an impressive fish bar. The lighting wasn't ideal for photography, which is why some of my shots are a little yellow, but it created an intimate atmosphere, and the place was buzzing, even at 6 pm. The menu is not what you would call adventurous, which is fine for me, given how I struggled to choose between the many tempting main course options. Steak-frites, grilled chicken, and mac and cheese were all on the shortlist.

First, though, we ordered some cocktails, which tended to err on the manly side. I chose the flavoursome, fruity Aviation (gin, Maraschino Miclo Violet and lemon juice). To start we decided to share half a dozen assorted rock oysters, which were delicious, as well as the nettle agnolotti — a type of ravioli, stuffed with nettles and served with pine nuts and pancetta. Yum.

The Diplomat and the Aviation.

Rock oysters a-plenty.

For my main course, though, it was always going to be a burger. Next time I'll try something different. I promise! I was a little nervous when I asked for my cheeseburger medium rare and was told that they could only only do medium and up. Luckily, it arrived how medium should be: very pink inside and juicy and flavoursome. It wasn't the best burger I've had in London, but it's definitely up there. The fries were fine, and the steak-frites did also look very tasty. It would be pretty difficult to order badly at Balthazar.

The Balthazar cheeseburger.

I definitely didn't have any room for a pudding but we found ourselves ordering a chocolate soufflé to share. It was light and rich, soft and creamy; pretty tasty, basically.

Chocolate soufflé goodness.

I really enjoyed my meal at Balthazar and I hope to go back soon. As to whether it's worth the hype and worth the potential queue, I'm not so sure, but only because there are so many great restaurants in London these days. Besides, next month two more great American institutions will be opening their doors just across from Balthazar in Covent Garden. I'm most excited about the arrival of Shake Shack, on 5 July, but I'm glad that Five Guys is coming too, as I've yet to try one of their burgers. These are happy days for a London-based hamburgerologist.

Balthazar. 4-6 Russell Street, London, WC2B 5HZ (Tube: Covent Garden). Website.

Get Cape, Wear Cape, Fly

I was always going to go and see Man of Steel, Zack Snyder's "don't call it Superman" Superman reboot, regardless of the reviews. After all, I watched four seasons of The Tudors for the same reason: Henry Cavill, AKA the Duke of Phwoar Suffolk. I've never seen any of the previous Superman films and my knowledge of the Superman universe is limited to one or two episodes of The New Adventures of Superman, some two decades ago. Perhaps I should have done some more research, because Man of Steel is really long and manages to be silly, while also taking itself far too seriously.

We start out with some back story. A lot of back story. Some of this was helpful for a n00b like me, but it took until about halfway through the film before we actually get to the plot. The planet Krypton has essentially fracked itself to a rapidly approaching fiery death and, to make matters worse, the ruling council is faced with with an uprising led by General Zod (Michael Shannon). Babies on Krypton are produced in little pods and, on hatching, will fulfil a predetermined status: worker, warrior or leader. R'as al Ghul Jor-El (Russell Crowe), the chief scientist, and his wife Lara (Ayelet Zurer) decide to have a child the old-fashioned way, so that he or she will be able to choose his or her own destiny. They just about have time to send baby Kal-El off in a little spaceship with some magic codecs codex (they must have really wanted to watch those DivX films) before *spoiler alert* [Zod kills Jor-El]. Zod tells Lara that wherever they have sent the baby, he will track him down and he will have his vengeance. Zod and his co-conspirators are sentenced to 300 cycles of mental reconditioning in a nearby spaceship prison, but when Krypton meets its unhappy ending, the prisoners become free.

Meanwhile, Clark Kent is having a difficult childhood in Kansas, raised by Jonathan (Kevin Costner) and Martha (Diane Lane) Kent. His sensory awareness is so acute that it is sometimes hard to focus, and his superhuman strength is starting to attract attention. He wants to use his powers for good, but Jonathan tells him that the world isn't ready for an all-powerful space alien, and that his time will come. As an adult, Clark (enter Henry Cavill, at last) drifts from job to job and town to town, constantly having to move on and change his name after doing superhuman things like saving 20 workers who are trapped inside an exploding oil rig.

He ends up somewhere in the Arctic, and buried underneath the ice, he discovers a Krypton spaceship and a technology that allows him to communicate with Jor-El, who designed all of the Krypton ships and managed to weave himself into the code. Also hanging around on the site is Lois Lane (Amy Adams), a reporter from the Daily Planet, who wants to write a story about this mysterious, superhuman stranger after he rescues her from some bad-ass Kryptonite defence mechanism built-into the ship. Her boss (Laurence Fishburne) refuses to print the story, so she leaks it to a blogger and then, with perfect timing, Zod and his baddies come calling. They hack into every electronic device on Earth and demand the return of Kal-El — or there will be trouble. Clark agrees to surrender himself, although his chats with Dad #1 have taught him not to trust Zod. Sure enough, Zod wants to use the codex (a sort of genetic blueprint for the people of Krypton) to bring back his people on Earth. Unfortunately for the Earth dwellers, this will mean tweaking the atmosphere to make it impossible for them to breathe and stuff. The rest of the film is essentially Independence Day, with Clark desperately trying to save the world — and to stop the distrustful Earth army from killing him along with Zod et al.

I wasn't expecting Man of Steel to be this epic space battle. As I said, I should perhaps have done some more research, but I thought it would be more like Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy or Marc Webb's The Amazing Spider-Man. In fact, Man of Steel felt like a combination of all three of the films shown in the trailers I saw: World War Z, Alfonso Cuarón's Gravity, and This Is the End. Poor Amy Adams seemed to spend as much time falling through space and/or the sky as the astronauts in Gravity. She didn't get too much else to do, although she did get to kiss Henry Cavill, so she can't complain too much.

Cavill was good, but not outstanding, as Clark Kent. I would have appreciated a few more shirtless scenes. Towards the end of the film, a female army captain is smiling to herself as Clark flies away. Her boss asks what's wrong. "Nothing," she says, "but he's kinda hot." Indeed. Costner put in a good performance as Dad #2, while Shannon mainly got to stand around perfecting his evil laugh and saying things like, "release the world engine." He did make a very menacing Zod, and a worthy adversary for Clark. Interestingly, in one of the final battle scenes, set in Gotham Metropolis, I spotted a truck with "Lex Corp" on the side, so I think we can guess who the villain might be in the next film (even I've heard of Lex Luthor).

Man of Steel takes itself too seriously and could have benefitted from a few more laughs. More movies are obviously being planned — or so you would hope given the amount of time in this 2h40 film dedicated to setting up the story. Next time, perhaps, they'll just be able to get on with it. I'm just not convinced that there will be a next time for me.

The Caffeine Chronicles: Nude Espresso and #guardiancoffee

Since moving to the foodie haven that is my new South of the River hood, I've found that most weekends seem to revolve around food, drink and coffee. Not that I'm complaining. Yesterday morning, I had run out of coffee so I went into work via Prufrock (review here). Because I was also buying a bag of coffee beans and a croissant, I didn't realise at first that I had paid £5 for a filter coffee. Even though it was a really tasty Ethiopian brew and even though it did take the barista about 10 minutes to custom-make it for me, I might stick to my usual macchiato in future. As a Scorpio, I did appreciate the eight-legged decoration on my eight-ounce cup, though.

Posh filter coffee at Prufrock

At lunchtime, we went to Caravan. Sadly, it wasn't quite clement enough to sit outside in Granary Square, so we enjoyed our pizzas at the bar instead, along with a single-origin espresso from Guatemala. I'm not sure that my coffee palate is sophisticated enough yet to discern all the right notes in a single-origin coffee, but it was delicious: very rich and strong.

Pizza and single-origin espresso at Caravan

This morning, I stopped via Maltby Street on the way back from my run. For the past few weeks, I have been trying to buy one of Poppy Smadja's Le Snickers: an unholy alliance of chocolate, salted caramel and peanuts. This week, they even had pretty edible flowers on top, but they came with lemon sauce inside, which was a flavour combo too far for me. I "settled" for a hazelnut panna cotta, which rested upon a nutty, chocolatey ganache and a buttery biscuit base. The perfect pudding after my relatively healthy lunch of freshly baked rye bread from St John, and green olives and cherry tomatoes from Borough Olives.

Lunchtime treats from Maltby Street

I braved the rain to meet some friends at the new Saturday style market that has just opened at Spitalfields, which featured the work of lots of independent fashion and accessory designers. I was tempted by a really cute leather purse, but restrained myself. We then sought shelter from the elements at Nude Espresso. The Hanbury Street location is perfect for hipster-watching and their double macchiato is superb. As some of us hadn't had enough coffee yet, we then headed over to Boxpark to check out the Guardian's pop-up coffee shop, #guardiancoffee. They use Nude coffee and so my double macchiato was fairly similar to the one I had already had. They have iPads for customers to use, although you can only access the Grauniad and the Observer.

#guardiancoffee, Boxpark

This being the Grauniad, there are also plenty of infographics and you can see how many of each beverage have been ordered on a particular day (flat white was the most popular; no one bought any fizzy drinks, natch). It's quite a nice idea, the coffee is good and if I needed a space to get on with some work or writing, I would enjoy hanging out there. It just felt rather surreal, and at 5 pm on an intermittently rainy Saturday, the place was pretty quiet.

Infographic!

As After Sunset Fadeth in the West

"When was the last time we just wandered around bullshitting?" asks Jesse (Ethan Hawke) about halfway through Richard Linklater's new movie, Before Midnight. Well, I'd say about nine years ago. In other words, the last time we caught up with Jesse and Céline (Julie Delpy) the star-crossed lovers — or are they? — in Linklater's Before... trilogy. Before Sunset and its predecessor, Before Sunrise, are among my all-time favourite films, so there was a lot of pressure on part trois. Fortunately, I loved it. It was just the way catching up with old friends should be: moving, enchanting, and a real laugh riot. So much so that when the screen went black at the end, I couldn't believe it was over. It was a good five seconds before I realised we had indeed reached the 1h50 mark.

If you haven't seen Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, it's definitely worth checking them out first — it will make for a much more rewarding viewing of Before Midnight. I actually saw the second film first, when it came out at the cinema, and then caught up with part one on DVD. Perhaps that put a different spin on the whole series. In any case, in Before Sunrise, 20-something Jesse has broken up with his girlfriend and has been travelling around Europe when, on his last night before flying back to the States, he meets Céline and they impulsively decide to get off the train together in Vienna. He can't afford a hotel so they spend the whole night walking around the city, wandering around bullshitting. Before Sunset is set nine years later, when Jesse, now a successful writer, has come to Paris to promote his book, which is also partly based on his romance with Céline. Céline shows up to Jesse's reading at Shakespeare & Co, and then — surprise, surprise — they only have an hour to wander around bullshitting before he has to leave to catch his flight. They are both in other relationships, but neither is particularly happy, and that connection between them is still there.

Jump forward another nine years, and Jesse is at a Greek airport with his now-teenage son Hank (Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick) back to his now-ex-wife in Chicago. Hank has spent the summer with his dad, Céline and his two twin step-sisters (Charlotte and Jennifer Prior) at the idyllic retreat of Patrick (Walter Lassally), a writer friend of Jesse's, but it's time to return to school. Jesse and Céline drive back to the house while the twins sleep in the back. They bullshit, the bicker, they laugh. They are happy. Except things aren't quite perfect. Céline is thinking of taking a new job with her former boss, whom Jesse dislikes, and Jesse worries that he is missing out on some prime father-son years with Hank, and wonders if they should move from Paris to Chicago.

Back at the house, the womenfolk make dinner, while the men talk about life and writing. Specifically, Jesse's writing: his two books, This Time (which he was promoting in Before Sunset) and That Time, as well as some of the ideas he has for the next one, and the weird and wonderful characters who might populate it. Over a long meal, the three generations of friends and family staying with Patrick talk about love, life and sex. The youngest couple, who are probably in their late teens, are geographically separated, but it's OK because they can fall asleep together via Skype. Of course, if Jesse and Céline had mobile phones and access to Skype in Before Sunrise, the whole trajectory of their love story could have been altered dramatically. Perhaps.

As it's Jesse and Céline's last night in Greece, two of their friends have bought them a night in a fancy hotel in town, while they babysit the twins. It's a lovely walk, with stunning views of the sea and various churches and ruins. And this is when Jesse reflects on how little wandering around bullshitting they get to do these days. For Jesse and Céline, the romance was never the problem; it was everything else. Life inevitably always gets in the way. As they banter back and forth, the conversation sometimes takes darker turns. When Céline challenges Jesse to name women who achieved their life's work at a young age, he suggests Joan of Arc. "No one wants to be her," Céline scoffs. "She was burned at the stake and she died a virgin."

When they reach their hotel room, it looks as though everything is going to be all right. They begin to rediscover some lost intimacy, despite Céline's complaints about the lack of spontaneity of the situation, and the begin to rediscover what they love about each other. But lingering in the background is the situation with Hank and Jesse's ex. Jesse wants to move to Chicago, but Céline doesn't want to give up the chance of her "dream job," their life in Paris and, more importantly, the symbolism of her independence, when the ex would never even let them see Hank more than once every other weekend, per the terms of their custody agreement. As they fight, things go a little Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. The script is very sharp and funny, so we laugh, but then wonder if we shouldn't really be crying. Céline storms out of the room several times — once for good. "We aren't characters in one of your stories," she snaps, as he tries to make things better.

Amid all of the acrimony and the years of unspoken truths, there is also a lot of sweetness in Before Midnight. It feels a lot grittier and a lot more real than both of its predecessors, which had an other-worldly, fairy-tale-like quality to them. It's clear, though, that the depth of their feelings for each other go way beyond what happened on a magical night in Vienna and an exquisite afternoon in Paris. This is indeed 40. Well, technically 41.

The chemistry between Hawke and Delpy in Before Midnight is as perfect as ever. As in Before Sunset, the two actors co-wrote the screenplay with Linklater, and it is wonderfully written. My only concern was the pacing: the set-up took so long that by the time the ending rolled around, I wanted more time alone with Jesse and Céline. The additional characters in the house made for a richer tapestry, but the deep musings about the nature of love and the male-female divide felt a little pretentious. Nonetheless, I really enjoyed the film and thought it was a fitting ending to a beautiful, thoughtful trilogy. I'll just have to go and rewatch the first films now, and hope that hindsight doesn't diminish them. I don't think it will.

The Bling King

At the start of Steven Soderbergh's new movie Behind the Candelabra, 17-year-old Scott Thorson (Matt Damon) and his buddy Bob (Scott Bakula) sit at a Liberace show. The impressionable young Scott is entranced by the performer, played by Michael Douglas, but there's something about the doting, middle-aged female audience he doesn't get. "Oh, they have no idea he's gay," Bob tells him. Because it's 1976. Scott meets the great man after the show and, as a would-be-vet, he offers to get some medicine for Liberace's deaf, blind dog, and the two become fast friends. And lovers. And a whole lot more. "I wanna be everything to you, Scott: father, brother, lover," the older man says.

Scott was raised by several different families, but was particularly close to Rose and Joe, his latest parent figures. Soon, though, he has given them along with his job, the rest of his life and eventually even his face to move in with "Lee," ousting various other male companions and staff in the process. It's just like the Another Suitcase in Another Hall scene in Evita. "Lee thinks he's King Ludovic — the Liberace of Bavaria," Scott's buddy tells him. "Was he a piano player too?" asks our naïve protagonist.

At first things are fun: they're in love, they cook together, they spend a lot of time in the hot tub. But then things get a little strange. Very strange, in fact. First, when Liberace consults with his plastic surgeon, Jack Startz (a hilariously whacked Rob Lowe), he decides that Scott should have some work done too. In fact, he wants Scott to look just like a younger version of himself, which creeps Scott out, but he eventually agrees, as long as the surgeon will give him a dimple, and a big supply of his special "California diet" pills. There are toe-curling shots of the surgery in action, but these scenes are thankfully brief, and interspersed with, presumably, Scott's happy dreams of his lover on stage.

Then, Liberace decides they should have an open relationship, but by open, he means he can see other people but Scott can't. There's a newer and even younger bloke on the scene, and suddenly Scott finds himself with his suitcases (and furs) in another hall. Things turn uglier still, when we get to Scott's lawsuit against his former lover/boss/almost adoptive father—these scenes had something of The Social Network about them. But he makes it out and, a couple of years down the line he seems OK. Of course, the film is based on Thorson's own memoir, so of course, we see what he wants us to see; the reality seems to have less of a happy ending.

I knew almost nothing about Liberace before I saw Behind the Candelabra and I definitely hadn't heard of Scott Thorson. It's a little hard to know what to make of their relationship, as portrayed by Soderbergh's movie, given that it has to be so one-sided. I thought Douglas and Damon's performances were excellent and they had great chemistry together. Damon did a particularly job of making a non-entirely sympathetic character seem more likeable and human. Both actors had to put in a lot of work physically too: Damon barely seemed much older than a teenager at the start, and yet after seven years of partying hard, he looked a lot closer to his real age. As for Douglas, it was amazing to see how much older he looked when Liberace took off his wig (actually Douglas's real hair). Oh, and I'm sure Dr Startz's face lifts helped too.

Wonderfully bonkers, incredibly camp and yet always engaging, Soderbergh's last movie to be released is great fun. To get my Soderbergh fix, though, I'm now eyeing up The Knick, a TV mini-series with Clive Owen (yes, please).

The Caffeine Chronicles: Association Coffee Review (CLOSED)

UPDATE: Unfortunately, Association Coffee has now permanently closed.

Sorry, Prufrock, but I think I've found a new favourite coffee bar. I recently picked up a copy of the 2013 edition of The London Coffee Guide and was surprised to find out that I had apparently missed on a real gem of a coffee bar in the form of Association Coffee. Located near the Gherkin in Creechurch Lane, it's about equidistant from my home and my office, and last Saturday I decided to pay a visit. Unfortunately, when I got there, The Association was closed: it doesn't open at the weekend and only opens from 7.30 am until 5 pm during the week. But after recommendations from the coffee guide and Dr E, I was determined to try it out.

Association Coffee: my new favourite London coffee bar?

It's lovely inside. I arrived before the rush.

So, this morning, I skipped breakfast at home, and enjoyed a brisk 30-minute walk over Tower Bridge to The Association. I ordered a croissant with my double macchiato. The latter was particularly excellent. The coffee was smooth, rich, slightly fruity and very slightly sweet, and with just the right amount of crema for me.

Breakfast...oh, and a croissant.

The double macchiato at Association Coffee

I was tempted to order the espresso flight — a single-shot espresso and a single-shot cappuccino — but I had other coffee plans. After eyeing up the filter coffee menu (they offer a regularly changing selection of single-origin coffees) and seeking the barista's recommendation, I ordered a Kiawamururu coffee from Kenya to take away. They made it in an Aeropress and I think it was double-filtered, although I may have misheard. Now that I own Aeropresses, I do slightly resent paying £3.50 for a small cup of coffee, but it was really good.

Serious coffee-making kit

Spot the blogger

It was lucky that I ordered the second cup, because after an epic one-hour bus journey to take me my King's Cross office, two miles away (I could have walked it in 35 minutes), I arrived at work to find out that the cause of all the traffic was a burst water main just down the road, which also meant we had no drinking water — read: no way for me to Aeropress myself some coffee — all day. Suddenly, I didn't mind paying £3.50 at all, given the relatively poor coffee options in King's Cross (with a few notable exceptions).

Reading matter.

The Association is a really lovely coffee bar. The design is flawless — I particularly like the fancy magazine rack filled with just the kind of publications to give the mostly City-worker clientèle the escapism they crave — the staff are friendly and knowledgable, and most importantly, the coffee is great. I'll just have to schedule some more breakfast dates there in the future.

Association Coffee. 10-12 Creechurch Lane, London, EC3A 5AY (Tube: Aldgate).