Things are finally moving in the right direction

It's taken ages, for one reason or another, but I've finally moved off my plateau. This morning I weighed in at 83.7 kilos... Hurrah!

Another milestone, quite literally...

I managed to push on through my 2-mile barrier yesterday. I planned a new route for my run and just went for it. True, by the end my legs felt like jelly, but I just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and I made it. I've found there's a bit of a psychological trick to it too. I divide the run into segments and push myself until I get to the end of each segment – then I tell myself I should get through at least one more segment. Sooner or later, you end up so close to the finishing line that it seems like a shame to give up...

Happy as a...

I went out the other night to the 'soft launch' of a friend's new restaurant – a bit like a dress rehearsal. The idea is that you give the restaurant kitchens and the front of house staff a chance to test out their abilities before they get let loose on paying punters. The place – Terroir, 5 William IV Street, WC2 – is just behind Charing Cross tube station and, once they've got over a few teething problems, I think it'll be a truly pleasant place for an evening out (and I'm not just saying that because it's a mate's restaurant). Mark and I tried a few of the dishes, including a steak tartare and salad of smoked duck breast with green beans and walnuts, but for me the standout dish was one of clams with ham, garlic and chilli.

I liked it so much, in fact, that I decided I wanted to try my own take on the dish, which I did last night. In fact, we liked it so much – and I got so carried away – that I forgot to take a picture of the finished dish (hence the generic picture of clams, top). Here's the recipe (Mark said it was even better than the original, but he could just be biased...)

Clams with ham, garlic, parsley and chilli for two

150g smoked bacon, preferably cut into thick slices, then cut into lardons
a skerrick of olive oil
a smear of butter
2 shallots, finely chopped
1-2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 red chilli, finely chopped
150ml white wine
150ml fish stock
600-700g clams
a large bunch flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
freshly ground black pepper

Heat the oil and butter (use as little as possible – it's just to lubricate things until the bacon fat starts rendering) in a heavy-bottomed casserole dish or saucepan, then add the lardons. Fry until the lardons are beginning to brown.

Turn the heat down low and add the chopped shallots. Fry gently until translucent and soft. Add the garlic and chilli and fry for another half a minute.

Stir in the wine and the stock and bring to a fierce boil until the liquid has reduced by at least a third.

Lower the heat to a medium flame. Tip the clams into the pan, along with the parsley and the pepper. Stir thoroughly then place the lid on the saucepan. Cook for another few minutes, until the clams have all opened. Serve in a bowl, along with a slice or two of bread for your non-dieting beloved...

Another simple dinner

It may not look all that great in the picture (no wonder food stylists get paid a good rate), but this dinner of plaice with a side of couscous and veg tasted pretty scrummy.

The plaice itself was well seasoned and then simply grilled, but it was the couscous and veg that made it special. I cut a couple of courgettes into chunks (quartering the courgettes lengthwise, then chopping them into 1cm-thick bits) and sauteed them in a sparing drizzle of olive oil.

While I was doing that, I also toasted some pine nuts in a dry frying pan (they've got some oil all of their own, so don't need any extra fat) and poured some boiling water over a small bowl of couscous then put a lid over it to let it swell up in the steam (with a stick of cinnamon in along with the couscous to add a bit more flavour).

I then got four or five pickled lemons (an ingredient traditionally used in Moroccan cookery and available in most supermarkets), sliced them into quarters lengthways, removed the pulp and roughly chopped the skins into large dice.

Once the couscous had absorbed the water and was completely tender, I stirred in the sauteed courgettes, the pine nuts, the pickled lemons and a good handful of chopped fresh coriander and a twist of black pepper. Very simple, but very good indeed.

Patron of the yartz...

When Mark and I had our post-wedding party last month, we wondered for a while about what kind of wedding present we should ask for. We knew we didn't need pots and pans or towels and bed linen and all the usual kind of stuff newlyweds get landed with. We certainly had more than enough toasters and kettles between us, having merged our two households a couple of years ago.

So we hit on the idea of asking our friends for a contribution towards the purchase of a painting. Today, with the grand total burning a hole in our pockets, we went to the Affordable Art Fair in Bettersea Park – and fell in love with the Lady with the Candelabra (left) shortly after we arrived (I think she was on the sixth booth we visited). Inevitably, she was more expensive than our budget had allowed for, but she was so beautiful that she stayed with us as we trailed round the rest of the fair (the picture doesn't do justice to the glowing colours of the paint or the intricate texture on the canvas). Mark and I saw some wonderful pieces, and we could easily have spent our money four times over, but we kept coming back to her.

Luckily, after a bit of haggling, we arrived at a mutually agreeable price that didn't compromise the art dealer's commercial instincts or our ability to pay. So the lady with the candelabra came home with us. I still think she's beautiful – and I'll carry on believing it for the rest of my life.

A big thank you to all those who helped us buy her...

I'm dreading this 5k run

I've tried and I've tried and I've tried, but I can't seem to break through the 3k barrier. With only six weeks (at the most) to go before I have to do this 5k run that James has put me up for, I can't see how I'm going to make it.

I spent the last couple of days in Geneva, on a commission to write up some restaurants in a deluxe hotel there (I'll post about the trip in full soon, and, yes, I know, tough job...) and spent some time in the gym while I was there. In theory, running on a treadmill should be easier than running on the street or in the park, but I still can't crack my 3k limit.

I'm rather beginning to dread this particular challenge...

Locked out!

So there I was on Monday morning, pootling round the house, getting ready for my session with James, when the rubbish men came. After emptying out the wheelie bin, the rubbish men left it out on the street. So I thought I'd do my civic duty and bring it in to the front garden. My trainers were upstairs, so I slipped on Mark's slippers – a pair of plastic flip-flops – and, latching the door (or so I thought), stepped outside to get the bin. It was a windy morning, as some of you may remember, and the wind caught the door and slammed it behind me. Had it actually been on the latch, as I was convinced it was, it wouldn't have been an issue – but it closed behind me with a bang. I was locked out.

Not a problem, I thought. Two of my neighbours have a key and, given that it wasn't quite 8.30, I thought one or the other must be in. In fact, the lights were on at Ann and Patrick's place next door and Anne's car was still parked out on the street. So I nipped through their gate and rang the bell. And rang the bell again. Nothing.

No worries, I'll thought, I'll try Rob and Jamie's. But the blinds were closed and I couldn't even hear the yapping of their neurotic little dog Connie.

It was at this point that James came cycling up the street, a broad smile on his face (no doubt in anticipation of whatever session of sadism he had in mind for the morning). Hating to disappoint him (not), I gave him the bad news – but I got no reprieve and found myself out in the park, doing step ups onto the bench and a series of boxing moves in Mark's slippers (how glam, not).

Lucky for me, it turned out that Ann was home after all – she'd just been in the shower at the point when I got locked out. Shame I didn't find out until after an hour's heavy exercise in my plastic flipflops. Next time I get locked out, I'll try and make sure I'm wearing my trainers...