Welcome to my website. I am the author of ‘Vietnamese – Simple Vietnamese Food To Cook At Home’. I am a photographer and film maker. You can book into my supper club, Vietnamese cooking classes, buy my book, check out my photography and lots more here.
Please follow me on instagram @loveleluu – Thank you so much for visiting x
Food Photographer
The supper club is held in my home in London Fields, Hackney. It is like a dinner party in the tradition of a Vietnamese feast with homemade Vietnamese food.
Vietnamese food is about the balance of flavours, of sweet, salty and sour – there is no measuring device that can ever match your own taste buds.
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| Last night: we did creative writing with Creative Writes. Before that, we had dinner. I cooked chicken and mushroom pie from Jamie’s 30 Min Meals. Went down a storm. Everyone had seconds! |
Creative Writes came to Fernandez & Leluu. Check out further dates and courses on their website: www.creativewrites.co.uk
Write ‘free flow’ in ten minutes without stopping, starting with: “I am thinking…”
“I am thinking of the pink ballons floating in the summer sky as I lay on the moist, silky green grass, long enough to tickle my ears. I hear the bees are buzzing and the sound of the lazy shore, reluctantly creasing onto the stoney beach. The world seems different when I am laying down, it looks like there is more space and everything seems a little more vast and people are further away than usual.
I am thinking that I can feel my back when I lie down as it sinks to the ground like a heavy stone and my head is like a rock, hard on the dry soil. I wish I had bought a cushion to perk me up.
The voices are far away. I can hear the people talking and laughing in the still summer heat. The flies are still buzzing and sometimes, a dog strolls past, panting away in a mixture of excitement for being on a walk and a resentment for its own heavy warm fur coat. Its dribbling over a ball and bounces proudly towards its owner, eyeing up the ham sandwiches from someone’s picnic.
A roar of “owwuch” is heard in a nearby layabout and a girl is nursing her sore head. A boy comes running towards her and a football apologising frantically for kicking the ball in the unfortunate direction of her forehead. “Be careful arsehole” she yells with a grumpy look on her face. He tries not to look too amused nor react to the rolling laughter of his and her’s companions. He doesn’t want to seem rude.
I wonder if this is how we would all meet. By the chance of a ball, by the turn of a corner, by the beat of a fly’s wing. Our choice is to just take action.”
