Local Woman Eats Her Way Through London, And Other Sad Tales

I went a-travelling for 11 days at the beginning of March and found out, the hard way, that it is impossible to blog by blackberry. It just doesn't work, whether the attempt is being made from within La Fromagerie, possibly the most wonderous jamon and cheese joint in London, or the little cafe at the top of the National Portraits Gallery. I was therefore forced to eat alone, and unable to share my culinary experiences with anyone other than the waiter who passed me the bill.

Anyway, I was in London for 11 glorious (but cold) days, for 2 days of plane ride, 3 days of (kinda) work, and the balance of the trip for a mixture of culinary and cultural experiences. My cultural experience included a trip to the British Museum, the National Portraits Gallery, the Tate Modern Museum, perhaps a play or a musical or three in the evenings.

The closest I got to a cultural immersion was a 20-minute chat with a London cabdriver en-route from Baker Street to Cornwall. He had just completed a course on tourism in London, and was keen to share. I did actually enter the National Portraits Gallery and managed to view a painting of um.. someone famous ... en-route to the elevator which was to take me to the rather lovely cafe on the top floor where I enjoyed an excellent grilled mackerel (with 30 small bones), a glass of white wine topped off by an expresso. So exhausted I was from my culinary efforts that I left directly after the meal, skipping all other portraits. After all, when you sit above all the portraits for 2 hours picking tiny little fishbones out of your mouth, you feel like you have kind of seen them all.

The rest of the time was spent, quite frankly, eating. For the sake of next year's trip, here's a record of memorable places eaten at.

Truc Vert, Mayfair
La Fromagerie, off Marylebourne High Street
Dinings
Wolesley
Royal China (off Baker Street)
Bocca di Lupo (off Soho)
Tapas Brindisa (Burrough Market)

There is one more tapas place which forever has changed my world view of black rice. But I cannot remember the name.

This is a natural consequence, I suppose, of staying with a great friend who is not just a foodie but also a food reviewer. Even the stuff we bought off the supermarkets had to be great, not just serviceable. My world view of ham and green pea soup bought off a supermarket shelf has also changed forever. So will hers when she returns from her business trip to Moscow to find half of the tub of soup still sitting in her fridge, together with some leftover olives.

BTW, Kerry, I met up with the guy who is coming over to stay with you for 3 weeks in August (?) and he sends his regards.

In other news, The Son celebrated his 4th birthday recently. Due to lack of time, but mostly laziness, his parents did not plan a birthday party for him, but decided to rely on the excuse that they preferred to spend quality time with him on his birthday instead. One of his parents still managed to make the whole birthday thing much more complicated and difficult by promising his teacher that we would hold some kind of party at school next week, resulting in the other parent having to put together goody bags for x number of kids. In the course of this week, that other parent has ascertained from third party experts that:

1. "goody bag" means a bag full of goodies
2. it cannot be substituted with a handshake and a "thank you for coming"
3. our reputation and the reputation of our son would be put at risk if I gave everyone a packet of Milo instead
4. fruit does not count
5. 1 Pez dispenser plus a packet of Pez sweets also does not quite cut it
6. the wretched goody bag itself (basically an empty but colourful plastic bag) has to be purchased from a speciality shop, and I cannot replace them with recycled Cold Storage plastic bags.

I am really quite surprised by all this. After all, I myself had a childhood full of birthdays and some birthday parties, and the gift-giving thereat was always a one way street. I throw the party, I get the gifts. Who started this goody bag nonsense? Why why why?

Maybe I will just absent myself from the school party and let someone else deal with the consequences. After all, the kids can't exactly refuse to leave (their own school) just because they didn't get a goody bag right?

Also for posterity, and in case The Son wonders what we did on his 4th birthday in lieu of a party, here is the action items list:

1. 9.45am to 2.30pm: Went to the Zoo, ignored the animals, headed straight for the kids' fountain play area.
2. 2.30pm to 3.30pm: Blew out candles, cut a cake (Awfully Chocolate, plain choc cake), took pictures, Daddy gave him 3 presents. Later that evening, The Son asked the other parent in private why there were only 3 presents ("I want four"). The other parent made vague promises to deliver up a birthday card today (note to self).
3. 4pm: The Son and Daddy went to the beach to fly a paper aeroplane. The other parent fell asleep, cannot verify what actually happened.
4. 7.30pm - 8.10pm: The Son ate a bowl of porridge which had hidden in it the contents of two MarineOmega 3 capsules and 3 spoonfuls of mashed potato.
5. 9.30pm - 10.30pm: The Son painted various pieces of RyanArt for his RyanArt album under my supervision. I have at this moment almost gotten all the black paint out from under my fingernails and skin, and no longer look like I fix cars.
6. 10.30pm: Read 5 stories to The Son. He fell asleep during the 5th one, making it the first time he has fallen asleep before me during storytime. The last time I read to him in bed, I dozed off and let go of the book, which fell on his face. People were not happy.