Bompas & Parr Voyage of Discovery

Never ones to rest on their laurels, this summer dynamic duo Bompas & Parr embarked upon their most ambitious project to date; turning the rooftop of London department store Selfridges into a pleasure boating lake complete with emerald green water.

Celebrating the journey of sponsors Truvia from edible leaves ten times sweeter than sugar found on the Stevia plant in the Iguazu Falls in South America, used for centuries by the natives to sweeten their Maté tea, to its final destination as a sweetener making its debut in the Oxford Street store, the boys brought the journey to life with their pea green lake filled with 60 tonnes of water. Only the second time in 65 years the roof has been opened to the public, the project revived Selfridges' roof, which once housed a boating lake, gardens, cafés, a golf course and a rifle range, to its former glory as a pleasure space.

Intrepid explorer that I am, having taken a lift lined with battered books up to the rooftop, on stepping out into the sunshine, I was eager to jump into one of the row boats and set sail. Assisted by a caped crusader, once my friend and I were in, we manned an oar each and started rowing – backwards at first, but soon we were gliding across the kryptonite coloured water like a skate across ice, treated on our travels to a spectacular view across the capital.

En route we passed a lady dishing out Stevia covered strawberries from a silver platter, which were so divine in their sweetness, I nearly capsized attempting to grab a second. The most perilous part of the journey involved traversing a waterfall aiming to emulate the the Iguazu Falls. Luckily, we were provided with a giant umbrella on arrival, and so emerged only slightly sodden rather than soaked to the bone – just as well, given my white attire.

After our exploratory exertions, our thirst was slaked with a Stevia-infused Singapore Sling cocktail courtesy of the über trendy Experimental Cocktail Club, served from a giant cristal decanter by angle-faced sailor boys.

Should alcohol have proved too much, virgin cocktails were being handed out in plastic medicine bottles. The one I'm holding in the photo was empty when I found it, so I'm unable to report back as to the potency of the elixir inside.

After a blissful hour relaxing on the rooftop to a soundtrack of animated banter from an adventure hungry crowd, we were ushered from the comfort of cushions back down to the bustle of the perfume department via the book battered lift. The urge to pocket Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea during the ten second journey bordered on kleptomania.

Before leaving, we were given a Stevia plant as a gift. Spurting out of the canary yellow Selfridges bag it was housed in, I paraded my plant with pride down Oxford Street and received some odd looks from fellow tube dwellers on the way home as I munched, rabbit like, on the tooth-tinglingly sweet leaves.

Bompas & Parr pancake magic at Harvey Nichols

Culinary alchemists Bompas & Parr unveiled their latest set of tricks at Harvey Nichols last week, celebrating Shrove Tuesday in style with an evening of pancake-flipping frippery at the 5th floor restaurant. The event, in collaboration with Lyle's Golden Syrup, kicked off with a pear Bellini, which, when stirred with a magic swizzle stick, turned purple.

While enjoying my now grape-tinged Bellini, I'm ushered to my seat. The restaurant is packed with expectant spectators. At the crashing of a cymbal, Bompas & Parr appear, handsomely dressed in black tailcoats and white bow ties. Overflowing with energy, the boys explain their aim for the evening – to woo and wow us with their magic skills – then quickly launch into their first act: electrocuting a gherkin. Bompas stabs electrodes into the gherkin while Parr mans the mains. It sparks a little a first, but doesn't create the fireball they were hoping for. The second attempt proves more fruitful – the gherkin lights up like an engorged glow-worm, and leaps into the air from the 240-volt shock.

Having made the humble gherkin magnificent, there is a two-course interlude in which to get down to the serious business of eating. The paper-thin discs of beef carpaccio served beneath a rocket and parmesan salad are delectable, as is the hearty, silver-skinned sea bass piled high atop a new potato throne, though I was slightly disappointed at how un-magical the food was, given the theme of the evening. I'd rather hoped for something more ludic and Heston-like, or at least a sprinkling of popping candy here and there.

Before our magical pancake pudding, the boys reappear. Bompas is holding a huge black goblet filled with moonshine. He passes it round the restaurant, asking everyone to take a sip. When it gets to me, I stick my head in. It's the most intoxicating smell I've ever experienced – like pure ethanol mixed with nail polish remover, making me instantly light-headed. My lungs object to the onslaught and I begin to cough. Soldiering on, I take a sip. It's lethal. A few more and I'd be on the floor. The salty aftertaste leaves me craving for something sweet.

For their next trick Bompas leaps inside a black box, while Parr attempts to make liquid nitrogen ice cream on Sam's stomach. He cracks a few eggs, pours some cream down a test tube, fills the black box with nitrogen, then proceeds to saw Sam in half to the sound of the Top Gun soundtrack. Having been put back together, Sam emerges, Humpty Dumpty-like, covered in egg. "Some things are best left across the road", Parr quips, in reference to Heston Blumenthal's runaway success Dinner at the neighbouring Mandarin Oriental hotel.

After a quick outfit change, the boys have two more tricks up their sleeves before pudding. Having traced the enzymes that make fire flies glow, they show us the enzymes in action, making the clear liquid inside a medicine bottle glow turquoise for a few glorious minutes. For their final flourish, they blow up a tin of Golden Syrup, causing a bang so loud my ears nearly bleed. The violence of the explosion is offset by the beauty of the resulting Time Square-style ticker tape shower.

Finally, it's time for pudding. We're presented with a pair of pancakes, upon which is a silver spoon. Upon the spoon is a red pill made from the miracle berry – a small red fruit grown in Africa. Along with the pill is a note, stating: "In 257 years of production, there have been no known side effects, but please take the pill at your own risk." Always keen to push culinary boundaries, I can't wait to try it. Sucking the pill blocks your bitter receptors, causing sour foods to appear sweet.

I give mine a good go, sucking it almost into non existence, and then, having doused my pancake with lashings of lemon juice, take a bite. It has worked. The sharp sensation has been replaced with an overriding sweetness. Still unconvinced, I chomp on a wedge of lemon, expecting to wince, but it's perfectly sweet. My tastebuds have been hypnotized into thinking sour things sweet. I'm seriously impressed, if a little concerned that my sour receptors may never return. How clever to have tricked my tongue. Alas, I didn't go home with one of the 10 food and magic kits the boys were giving away, but I did bag a box of Golden Syrup chewing gum, which tasted of childhood.

Bompas & Parr pancake magic

Culinary magicians Bompas & Parr celebrated pancake day in their typically quirky style by electrocuting a gherkin in the Harvey Nichols food court as part of their pancake magic event. Don't try this at home...

Bompas & Parr Chewing Gum Factory

Wine and the City catches up with Sam Bompas, one half of Bompas & Parr, at Bompas & Parr's Artisanal Chewing Gum Factory at Whiteleys, to find out how the factory works and ask what madcap plans the boys are cooking up next...

Bompas & Parr Chewing Gum Factory

Culinary wizards Bompas & Parr have found a new plaything. Moving on from the jelly moulds that made them famous, the pair have turned their hands, Wonka-style, to chewing gum.

Last week, the boys set up shop in Whiteleys, with a pop-up artisanal chewing gum factory. On arrival I'm swiftly lead to the dimly-lit Flavour Library, complete with haunting music on a loop, and scientific diagrams linking the 200 flavours on offer, from the play-it-safe strawberry and cotton candy, through the more adventurous white truffle and green pea, to the downright ludicrous curry, anchovy and hot dog.

I whiz around the aroma room, frantically opening flavour-scented jam jars in a bid to whittle down 40,000 possible combinations to my final two. Watermelon is divine, as is caramel, but they're both too predictable. Peanut jumps out of the jar, along with banana and almond, but I'm looking for something a little more playful. A mix of sweet and savoury perhaps? I strike upon what I believe to be an ingenious duo: foie gras and crème brûlée, having tasted something similar at a basque gastronomy evening the week before. It'll either be delicious or disgusting.

I write my flavour combo on a raffle ticket and hand it to the lady in a lab coat across the counter. She glances at it disapprovingly. The factory is proving so popular, punters have to wait for their numbers to be called, Bingo-style, by a bespectacled man on a megaphone. To ease my wait, I indulge in a Hendricks and tonic from a jam jar.

Finally my number's up, and I'm lead into the gum factory, a pink room lined with long wooden work benches. I'm given a gum-making tutorial by Sam Bompas himself, who dashes out the back to retrieve my flavours. He returns with a vial full of caramel coloured liquid, which I'm told to squirt on my clear gum base and then stir furiously. Icing sugar and citric acid is then added, and more stirring ensues.

'Would you like to add a colour?' Bompas enthuses. 'Why not make it bright green?', he suggests, squirting a few drops of green food colouring into the mixture. I stir it furiously, until it's the texture of Play Doh, then pick it up, douse it with icing sugar and roll it into small gum balls. Impatient, I pop one in my mouth, fearful of what I'm about to chew. Luckily, the crème brûlée dominates and it's surprisingly tasty.

The foie gras is definitely in there, but it's the custard-like, vanilla backbone that lingers. I finish rolling my pea green gum balls and pop them into a tiny white Bompas & Parr box. For their next trick the boys want to go one further and create a gum that changes flavour mid-chew, from savoury to sweet, recreating the Three-Course Dinner Chewing Gum Violet Beauregarde has the misfortune of eating when still in the testing phase in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, turning her into a giant blueberry. Wonka would be proud.

Bompas & Parr at the Experimental Food Society Spectacular

Wine and the City caught up with Eris today at the Pompas & Parr jelly installation at the Experimental Food Society Spectacular, held at the Brickhouse, Brick Lane, to find out how the duo make their extra-wobbly jelly creations.

Their secret ingredient is ether, a colourless, volatile liquid once commonly used as an anesthetic. As with nitrous oxide (laughing gas), medical students in the US in the late 18th century indulged in ether 'frolics', where they would inhale the chemical compound, known as 'sweet vitriol', for the euphoric high it produced. Quite why gastro-magicians Bompas & Parr are using it in their jellies eludes me – are they trying to send us all to sleep? Whatever the reason, ether is making a comeback: expect to see it on a cocktail list near you soon...