Mango mama
Dropped in to Giraffe in Hampstead with Clem, my three-year-old daughter today for a swift post-ballet smoothie. My hopes weren't high - Clem's were: she was on a milkshake hunt, but nothing doing. Milkshakes must be perceived as downmarket, or certainly too plebeian for that particular strip of Rosslyn Hill. And as the charming waiter in Giraffe gently chafed: "Smoothies are so much healthier."
With hopes dashed and wrists slapped, we ordered up a Mango Mama and, boy, what a glassful. Mango blended with banana, orange and apple juice and a sexy swirl of strawberry that hovered around the midriff like a gauzy pink sarong. How do they do that? I'm certainly going to try it at home and feel very virtuous in so doing. But would it have killed them to whip up some strawberries in a glass of milk and hold the lecture?
