“Whenever I travel to the South, the first thing I do is visit the best barbecue place between the airport and my hotel. An hour or two later I visit the best barbecue place between my hotel and dinner.” ― Jeffrey Steingarten, The Man Who Ate Everything
Carnaby Street is justly famous, but running parallel to it is an equally fabulous path called Newburgh Street. This gem is stuffed with excellent stores and, what else, food. Welcome, kittens, to Pitt Cue, an actual barbeque joint in the heart of Soho.
It’s paradoxical perhaps, but it’s quite a good idea in London to pick a place to eat based on how long the line is – in reverse order. If no one’s trying to eat there, there’s probably a reason. And if you have to stand in line for 30-45 minutes, it’s generally well worth the wait. Pitt Cue is no different. This small (almost unbelievably tiny) rib place accepts no reservation and operates on a first come, first serve basis.
The table markers used to confirm your spot on the waiting list are also kind of adorable.
When Jeff and I made plans to meet up with Adam for dinner (lo these many months ago, and I’ve just now got around to writing about it…), we had a decent wait before they managed to squeeze us inside. This almost was worse than waiting outside because due to lack of standing space I was crammed up at the bar entrance, almost behind the counter, and having to dodge the waiters and their trays full of truly heroic/suicidal amounts of whiskey – which Pitt Cue stocks in famous amounts and which I had no desire to see spilled all over me. It was a narrow escape. But the food immediately made up for the danger, we snacked on an order of pig’s crackling which promised good things to come, and checked out the scene.
Which, due to the aforementioned tininess wasn’t very viewer friendly…I was about seven feet away from the door.
Except for this gentleman and his heavy use of plaid, which tickled us all to no end. Where does his shirt end and his jacket begin, we wondered!
In the end we were served a delicious twist on slaw, heavy on the spice, and a plate each of brisket. Jeff and I became brisket snobs in Utah of all places, where we discovered a magnificent hole in the wall of a place that ended up supplying at least one meal a week during high summer. And my parents in Virginia certainly have access to their share of tasty meats for us to enjoy, so how would a London attempt hold up?
The fact that I got to this point before even thinking to snap a picture ought to tell you. My line theory is confirmed: this place is worth a wait!
“Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner, That I love London so Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner That I think of her wherever I go I get a funny feeling inside of me Just walking up and down Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner That I love London town.” -Hubert Gregg
“There are two places in the world where men can most effectively disappear — the city of London and the South Seas.” -Herman Melville
This has been one of those weeks that mixes fantastic highs with crippling self-doubt. Imposter syndrome is alive, well, and living in London, my friends. But enough with the first world problems, they’re nothing hard work and gumption won’t cure, on to links. They’re all quick and dirty this week. Share anything worth knowing in the comments and let me know what you’re getting up to this weekend.
(Feeling rather like the goose!)
I would play the heck out of this. House rules, you cannot ask questions about physical appearance. Terrible life choices, House allegiances, potential terrible fates only.
This new cartoon find amuses me greatly: (mostly) conversations betwixt inner organs and body parts, without being nearly as gross as it sounds. For example, the irritable bowel is…irritable.
Paging all book loving minions – which is the vast majority of you, let’s be honest. I’m a bit in love with this little boutique collection. Someone with an iPhone get that cover so I can live vicariously and enthuse about your purchase with you.
“London, thou art the flower of cities all! Gemme of all joy, jasper of jocunditie” -William Dunbar
I live three minutes away from the Thames via leisurely stroll (which technically forfeits my right to complain about anything ever). Not only is the pretty great in and of itself, but the Thames is a fascinatingly historic river in a fascinatingly historic city. Come wandering with me this week as I show you a bit of the fantastic history within twenty minutes of my flat.
Today, a late night amble with few words to get in the way.
St Paul’s after dark.
Blackfriars Bridge puts on a light show.
The view out of the front door of Jeff’s office. We hate him, yes?
Tower Bridge lit up for your pleasure.
“Sitting on the porch alone, listening to them fixing supper, he felt again the indignation he had felt before, the sense of loss and the aloneness, the utter defenselessness that was each man’s lot, sealed up in his bee cell from all the others in the world. But the smelling of boiling vegetables and pork reached him from the inside, the aloneness left him for a while. The warm moist smell promised other people lived and were preparing supper.” – James Jones, From Here to Eternity
I’ve written before about my teenage years living on a Pacific island – admittedly mostly focusing on the typhoons and earthquakes. It seems like sacrilege, or at least the height of ingratitude to admit this, but I didn’t really enjoy my time there. Most of my friends loved it (I mean, obviously, C. it was a tropical island, what was your problem?), but it was simply a hard place to live at the time for me. I left a good school, an amazing magnet program for my writing, Latin as a course option, and a lot of other thriving programs that I missed as a teenager, and even somewhat resented giving up.
Of course in retrospect lots of my island life was good. I’m still in touch with only two teachers from my youth, one of them is from that new high school. I was able to travel throughout Asia and Australia. My worldview, already decently large thanks to my dad’s international career, was blown open even wider. A lot of good came out of living there, but it remains one of my least favorite dwelling places.
But one thing that I will unabashedly gush over about island living (apart from the amazing cultural diversity and outrageously gorgeous and wonderful people) is the food. Until you’ve slaughtered, cleaned, and buried a whole pig in a pit to roast out in the jungle while bundling up tapioca pudding bundles or freshly caught fish in palm leaves to cook in the coals, while your neighbors from at least a dozen different cultures whip up their own delicacies and dishes around you, – you have not lived.
As a result, I’m always brought to a stop when anything remotely Polynesian catches my eye while on the prowl for good eats. I’m used to seeing such joints in California and the west, but you can imagine how surprised I was to stumbled upon a Hawaiian restaurant…in the middle of Soho!
Kua ‘Aina operates locations in Hawaii, Japan, and…weirdly London – all modeled on their original North Shore location which opened in the 1970s. President Obama is said to be a fan, he famously orders the half pound avocado burger and has been known to treat his traveling staff to To Go orders, and I can see why. From kitschy decor to a fun atmosphere, it’s simply a fun place to be.
No matter the London weather, the boss and all the servers are decked in (what else?) Hawaiian shirts and greet visitors with a big, “Aloha!” On Guam they say, “Hafa Adai” but the sentiment is the same, and I was surprisingly chipper to hear an island greeting after so long!
Burgers and breakfast are their specialties, both mixed with the delicious cultural cross section of taste that is island cuisine. Teriyaki, pineapple, and seafood all put in appearances. But the real reason I had to share this joint on the blog is for the single, solitary reason that they make the best sweet potato fries I have found to date in this city! As something of a self-proclaimed obsessive about such food stuffs, this is a big deal, kittens.
Kua ‘Aina is located just behind the famous Liberty of London, just off the equally famous Carnaby Street, at:
26 Foubert’s Place
London
W1F 7PP
‘Fess up, have you ever lived in a place you didn’t love? And did anything (like food) mitigate the circumstances for you?
“You are now In London, that great sea, whose ebb and flow At once is deaf and loud, and on the shore Vomits its wrecks, and still howls on for more Yet in its depth what treasures!” – P.B. Shelley
My ducklings, my precious, precious kittens! Something kind of incredible happened!
As part of the long, lovely weekend when Caitlin came into town from Paris, we ran away to Spitalfields on a Saturday to wander and eat food – two of my favorite things. I wanted to show her my favorite dilapidated old house and press my face against its dirty windows again, but when I rounded the corner to Princelet Street, I stopped short.
The door was wide open.
“Is something going on?” Caitlin asked.
“No idea, let’s find out,” I exclaimed and practically dragged her in the front door.
We were met by a couple of members of a film crew who seemed perplexed to have two insistent Yankee girls descend on them but I quickly exclaimed my love for the house and asked if we could just look around it for a few minutes. Which is how Caitlin and I were taken around the house by a VP and Series Producer of 3DD Productions and given a sneak peak into their work on upcoming series, Raiders of the Lost Art, which explores how many of the world’s great art treasures have simply vanished.
I worried perhaps that the inside would disappoint compared to the gorgeous decay of the outside…it didn’t! The basement was too dark for my phone (when will I learn to sling my camera on my shoulder before leaving the house?!) and of course I’m not going give you any sneak peeks of the Raiders set. You’ll have to wait to see them on TV.
Light switches from the early days of electricity, old toilets with chain pull flushes, creaky floors and stairs, textiles that have shredded or sagged with age, and dust covering everything with a light veil of mystery. It’s a perfect set for film (I’ve actually identified a few scenes from recent TV programs as having been shot there, including A Very British Murder with my professional girl crush, Dr. Lucy Worsley). We could have been in Miss Havisham’s cozier, less bridal casual rooms.
“Friendship,” said Christopher Robin, “is a very comforting thing to have.” ― A.A. Milne
In a typical work environment you’re thrown in together and meeting new people all the time. You’re making friends (or not making friends, as it happens) with all sorts, tackling projects, exchanging information and swapping ideas. When you work from home, that rapport simply doesn’t work the same way and if that sort of connection is important to you, it’s largely up to you to find ways of creating it.
Solitude, by Frederick Leighton. circa 1890
Freelancing for me, based on the nature of the majority of the sort of tasks I do, is largely a one-person show. I don’t mind this exactly, I’m a nice mix of introvert and extrovert who is perfectly capable of amusing and entertaining herself, or going out and enjoying the crowds. But I’ve found that long term, the solitary nature of my work affects me in interesting ways that I have to be proactive about noticing and correcting.
One of the reasons I decided to seek some volunteer work, apart from experience in a field I love and hope to support in some capacity in one way or another for the rest of my life, was that I was realized I was becoming emotionally and verbally out of touch. Six months into living in London, I was working from home six days a week and doing the bulk of my communicating via email. 99% of my conversations were happening with my husband – who is a great person to talk to, I stress lest you think otherwise – and I was noticing that in a very real way, I was losing the skill of being able to meet and connect with new people. In short I was becoming awkward. Not awkward in they shy and retiring way, awkward in, “Oh hi, so nice to meet you, let’s be friends immediately!” hyper way that instantly throws many off. With some people, such enthusiasm can be cute. I am not one of them…
Luckily, working at the museum is staggeringly fun. Not only am I feeling re-socialized, I’ve also been introduced to a number of publications I’m considering pitching. Most importantly, I’ve made some lovely new friends (like Georgina – another up and coming novelist and all around whip smart girl who I genuinely adore. We bonded over classics and Roman history, which is always a stable foundation for buddy-hood). Having friends, whom I not married to an interact with in places other than my flat, has been tremendously important in keeping my life happy and balanced.
Speaking of, another thing that’s been interesting to recognize is how much inspiration comes from other people. “Duh, C., you idiot,” I hear you say. But I’m not just talking about big ideas and big inspiration, I’m talking about the often small things that jumpstart you and keep you motivated as a person.
I met Alanna at a networking event a couple of months ago and I instantly thought she was one of the neatest people I’ve come across in a long time. She runs a consulting service that specifically works with social innovation, women’s development, and international development. We’ve started co-working together about once a month, and I always look forward to it because it’s easily one of my most productive days in that week. Just being around another person engaged in solid, innovative work is inspiring in and of itself and having another person in the room helps keep me accountable and not goofing off. Not only that, we’re able to swap ideas. Last time we worked together I helped her develop possible pitches to different publications about one of her upcoming projects and she introduced me to a number of sites and online tools that have made her life as a freelancer easier and more productive. Oh, and that swanky new blog logo I’m enjoying? She whipped that up in five minutes just for fun, without my even asking, just because she said she needed something creative to do as a break!
Simply being around people who succeed at freelancing, entrepreneurship, writing, blogging, design work, or just learning new skills personally gives me a tremendous boost of confidence. Seeing others succeed encourages me to think that I can too, in a way that I don’t always feel slumped over my desk grudgingly at one in the morning.
Another example. The other week Andrea and I finally got the chance to meet up (she’s been in Morocco, I’ve been in Paris – I know, our lives are such a trial, right?) for a long overdue hangout. We took in a free photographer’s gallery and then spent a couple of hours sipping tea and swapping stories and our experiences with freelancing and expat life. It’s amazingly relieving to hear that, even though your work might be solitary, your personal problems definitely aren’t unique! Not only that, about every ten minutes one of us said to the other, “That’s a really interesting story, you should pitch that.” Just by chatting and enjoying one others company we were coming up with really great ideas left and right, I came home and scribbled down half a dozen. I can’t wait to go on another girl date with her, not just because she is everything hilarious, delightful and interesting, but seeing her work ethic really gave a boost to my own.
I always believed that people are important to me, personally and professionally. I just never realized how much until this first year of freelancing.
Sharing time! Who are your people, and how do they inspire you? Are you an introvert or an extrovert? Have you had to get proactive to change unforeseen emotional adjustments due to self-employment? I’m nosy and want to know!
“A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.”
― Elbert Hubbard
Future bestselling YA author, friend of the blog, and buddy IRL Caitlin came into town Wednesday and frankly, it was a nonstop adventure. Caitlin is married to one of Jeff’s old college flatmates who now works for the NBA in China – we know such interesting people! Terry, the flatmate in question, was at a basketball conference in Monaco (his life is such a trial), so after spending some time in Paris, Caitlin took a train north to visit us. We probably went overboard in the entertaining, but she was our first visitor in London so we naturally had to put out all the stops. Which included:
Food (Holy mother of chocolate, so much food!) An exhibit on the Cheapside Hoard – a staggering amount of Elizabethan jewelry that was buried and abandoned.
Sightseeing around London
Hitting up the West End for, count ’em, two shows
The Tate Modern
Fantasy shopping
The Southbank Center’s Real Food Market (like I said, lots of food)
Waterloo Book Market
Markets
The National Gallery
Parks
Wandering in Soho
John Snow’s cholera pump (she was a public health major)
and a small taste of the London Marathon (mostly the crowds)
The gastronomic highlight was the hours we spent lingering over an afternoon tea at Liberty talking history, culture, tales of university days, exchanging expat life stories, and encouraging one another in our writing pursuits.
I was delighted at her delight at the tea. Which was delightful!
Could it be more delightful?
And after the multiple hours spent digesting this, we hopped straight over to Burger and Co. since the caressing taste of ground beef hadn’t crossed her lips in months and this was a situation that had to be rectified immediately. Then we dashed to the theatre. Which was frankly the tone of her entire visit.
Clearly yes! Burgers can do that to a girl who hasn’t had one in months.
Sometimes it’s just so relaxing and wonderful to talk to a person who gets what’s going on in your life without a lot of context. She can grumble over issues with her flat (and I can commiserate), while I confess my troubles with some of my novel plots (and she can laugh and provide much needed perspective. She recommends books, I recommend theatre, we fit in both. She’s seriously the perfect guest and we were so lucky she came up to crash on our (newly purchased just for the occasion) air mattress to inaugurate our guest bedroom (read: living room minus the coffee table).
I’m hugely lucky to know so many interesting, marvelous people, scattered across the globe but still wonderfully accessible via email, Skype, and letters. And visits! Here’s hoping we can get to China in the next few years to return this stellar one.
Small Dog Syndrome 