Canape of the week: Roast Chestnut at All Stars Lane

The Champagnista Girls could not be more pleased to introduce their new columnist, Miss Conde Nasty herself, social butterfly and finger food lover.

They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Well, I will let you into a secret; I will judge your event by your canapés. The art of a good canapé is a complex one. And, without wanting you to imagine me as two ton Tabitha who somehow managed to nepotise herself a job in this undeniably look-ist industry, something I’m very obsessed with trying. And I have some criteria:

1. Size: the whole point of canapés is that they’re bite sized aka two bites, max. Anymore and it holds up conversation or you risk, I dare to say it, talking with your mouthful. Not chic.
2. Eatability-while-holding-a glass-of-champagne-and-an-oversized-handbag. I’m no juggler so no complex dunking, sauces or spoons. Also note: debris. Am I left with said spoon, toothpick or shell? What am I supposed to do with that now?
3. Taste: we need some substance behind that style.
4. Originality: isn’t that what fashion is about anyway?

So for this week's canapé of the week:


Canapé: Roast chestnuts
Drank: Elderflower julep gin cocktails
Where: All Star Lanes launch, Brick Lane

I’m all up for injecting a bit of seasonality into the canapé scene. A girl can definitely have too much tuna sashimi; it’s winter guys so give us something to warm the cockles. And to be fair the black lace tight du jour doesn’t offer much protection against the elements while waiting for the bus home (yes bus, there is a reason why you’ll see a gaggle of assistants loitering suspiciously close to the kitchen exit at events, we don’t get paid enough to support a designer habit and to eat. Something’s got to give and frankly it’s not going to be my Marc Jacobs).


So I was quite excited to find roast chestnuts doing the rounds at the launch of Americana-tastic All Star Lanes on Brick Lane. Chesnuts roasting on the open fire and all that smaltz. It got me bad. Real bad, that is until I contemplated eating one.


Now maybe I had a deprived childhood, without the chestnuts roasting anywhere near me, but I admit I didn’t have a clue – skin and all or skin off. The empty bowl next to the heaving bowl of chestnuts should have been a clue, but no I bit whole. Never again – I’ll stick to my sashimi.

Miss Conde Nasty