The Mean Reds: how we get ‘em and how to deal, below. Enjoy!
Here I am, eating my own brain juice. Pray tell: when exactly did Timberland boots get so attractive?
As a franchise, Bubba Gump Shrimp Company beat all odds and managed to tickle my heart-strings – something no other American chain (or European counterpart) has been able to do.
Of course, this has a lot to do with my decade-long attachment to the movie on which it spawned from. I am a Forrest Gump pioneer through and through: an obvious alliance to all tourists who watched me squeal when passing the ‘Coming Soon’ posters in Piccadilly Circus just a few short months ago.
Mindful that Bubba’s London outpost would be playing house in an indisputable tourist trap locale, I had a better time than I imagined I might.
For my first date with the shrimping company, I decided to fast for ten hours. Portion size notoriety preceded itself (and thank the Shrimp Gods it did).
Kicking things off with a glass-branded ‘Lieutenant Dan’s Pomegranate Punch’ and ‘Louisiana Strawberry Lemonade’ for two, we nibbled through the Run Across America Sampler’s arrangement of chilled Peel ‘n’ Eat shrimp, spicy boneless chicken wings, Mama Blue’s fried shrimp (nested on top of some moreish corn-filled HushPups) and The Holy Grail – Bubba’s Far Out Dip with torilla chips (spinach, artichoke, and monterey jack gets me every time).
Blanketed, the food is stereotypically American: enormous, seasoned within an inch of its life, and loaded with as many fries as a plate can physically hold. Some people will hate it, without a doubt, but if you leave your pretention at the door (and enjoy the idea of boxing up your leftovers for home; GOD, I MISS YOU AMERICA) then you’re in for a treat. I have an obsession with coconut shrimp and Bubba’s – Dumb Luck Coconut Shrimp – was a comforting example, if not a tad overwhelmed by the Attack of The Fries.
Leaving over half of our plates behind, we chose to leave a little space to sample the dessert menu. With each table covered in little film-themed trinkets, the Key Lime Pie had been staring at me – via ping pong bat menu – for far too long already.
The pie was my Floridian youth cuisinified; all sunshine and happiness and smothered with a generous helping of lime-zested whipped cream. I’d say the Manfriend’s single serving of ‘Mama’s Best Strawberry Shortcake’ could compare, but nothing could carry the wholesome pang of that pie.
So go, play, geek out, stuff your face, and remember: life is like a box of chocolates.
Time for a bit of a ‘green beauty’ update, my loves. It is not often that I switch my products around (that is, at least since I hung up my Beauty Editor hat) but these two brands have tempted a few switcheroos.
First up is beauty brand Green People and two of their epic staple products: the Volumising Mascara and organic pressed mineral powder. As well as having a SPF of 15, the latter is incredibly finely milled feels like air on the skin. A simple, natural matte finish with no nasties? I’m not sure it gets much better. Alas, the mascara is just as impressive: a plethora of volumising bristles, conditioning vitamin E and plant oils, and a super strong pigment. All without mercury, formaldehyde, parabens, petrochemicals, phthalates and synthetic colourants (you’d be surprised by the number of mascaras which do).
Next comes the hair story.
Having coloured so recently, the inevitable search for natural recovery products has led me to haircare brand milk_shake. To put it as simply as I can, these products work. Though they are SLS and paraben-free, the ‘color maintainer’ shampoo and conditioner combine milk proteins, apple juice, and ‘Integrity 41′ (sunflower extract) to create a natural and healthful cocktail for coloured manes.
The ‘conditioning whipped cream’, however, takes the proverbial cake. When used through damp hair, the simple foam acts as a weightless leave-in conditioner and well as an incredible fragrance (not its intention, I’m sure, but an intense plus). It is one of those products that you fall in love with while simultaneously developing anxiety about running out on a particularly frizzy morning.
Well deserving switcheroos, if I do say so myself.