Tag: Food

Britain, Expat, Food, Humor, Husband, London, Shopping, Weekend July 31, 2014July 31, 2014

I scream, you scream, etc.

“Forget art. Put your trust in ice cream.”
― Charles Baxter, The Feast of Love

One of the great tourist-y pleasurable things you can enjoy in London is exploring the famed shopping area in the West End. Bond Street, Regent Street, and Oxford Street have a bunch of high street shops that are plenty interesting, plus the city of Westminster goes to great lengths to make it accessible, especially during the summer, but the ream gems are the remarkable department stores like Liberty and Selfridges. Not only are they noted for stocking all the luxury brands, but many of the great British department stores are great at forming partnerships with brands (some big, some new) for events and launches. This year the European ice cream company Magnum is celebrating 25 years, and apparently this is a Really Big Deal on this side of the Atlantic. I thought the idea of throwing a celebrity-studded bash over ice cream was a bit much myself…but my grinch-like heart softened eventually. Because, ice cream.

Last Sunday, Regent Street closed to traffic (something they’ve done every Sunday in July) and Magnum set up booths by the dozen to give away thousands of free ice cream bars.

However, Jeff and I didn’t feel like standing in one of these lines. We decided to stand in a much snootier line instead!

Selfridges had a super-fancy exhibit for Magnum in their famous Wonder Room, where participants could create their own ice cream bars with super-fancy dipping chocolate and super-fancy toppings. Alas these were not free, but we figured that VIP ice cream would be a fun weekend treat so we sprung for it anyway.

The decor was, of course, delightful. Selfridges is famous for their displays, primarily in their windows; I love their emphasis on visual design and engagement. But on to the main event!

Toppings were tossed together in cocktail shakers before being lovingly spread over the hand dipped bars. Jeff and I managed a combination of ice cream, dip, and drizzle that included all the chocolate variations, plus toppings that were just wacky enough to be interesting—hazelnuts, brownie bits…and cornflowers!

Too weird for your taste? Trust me, it was delicious.

Britain, Expat, Food, History, Humor, London July 21, 2014July 21, 2014

There is only one fish and chip shop in London

“Alive without breath,
As cold as death;
Never thirsty, ever drinking,
All in mail never clinking.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

At least, one worth knowing. The Golden Hind, named for Sir Francis Drake’s famous ship, is 100 years old and has been serving acclaimed fish and chips for the entire time. It’s an absolute culinary landmark in London and a required stop on any gastronomic tour of the city.

The shop itself is not grand. The tables and chairs are beat up and wooden, I’m not entirely sure they all matched, and the crockery is utilitarian. The cash registers are straight out of the 80s and the decor is minimal and mostly involves photographs from the city area in the early 20th century. Don’t let that fool you. There is almost always a line to get in, and you need to go in slightly off-peak hours to guarantee a seat.

The plaque detailing the ownership of the Hind.

The only major deviation in the menu is the type of fish you can serve, and the sides that can accompany your main course. I recommend the cod, which along with haddock is the traditional choice. The fish slabs are absolutely massive, I could barely finish a third of mine on our last visit, it was easily the length of my arm from fingertip to elbow. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t order the chips, though. Slather those suckers in vinegar and get stuck in!

Britain, Expat, Food, Humor, Husband, London, Travel July 8, 2014June 26, 2014

Let’s talk sandwiches, specifically at Monty’s Deli

“A man’s social rank is determined by the amount of bread he eats in a sandwich.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald

Jeff occasionally gets an idea into his head (usually involving food) that can only be exorcised by action. After our previous favorite brownie changed their recipe, he went on a bit of a tear to locate a replacement, which is how we discovered Maltby Market. He’s been going through a similar rough time in the hunt for some proper pastrami sandwiches, so you can imagine how thrilled he was to find Monty’s Deli in the same area.

There are certain kinds of sandwiches where the British are the unquestioned champions; tea sandwiches, cucumber sandwiches, and the much vaunted bacon roll are among them. I’m still trying to figure out what the pinkish-red bread Liberty’s cafe uses is exactly, and we’ve even found a really good pulled pork. Not as good as American barbeque, admittedly, but delicious in their own right. However there are some areas of sandwich-dom where we have found our new abode somewhat wanting. We didn’t think we could find a good Reuben, but I’m happy to report we were wrong.

I mentioned before that there is a whole slew of businesses that have set up shop in the arches beneath the train tracks, Monty’s Deli is one of them. Serving up “Jewish soul food,” they set up shop in the arches on Saturdays and Sundays only, so coming here is a treat.

It’s not high tech…

But the results are pretty damn great. Instead of fries they offer potato latkes and share space with an organic Greek wine merchant. That’s just how Druid Street rolls!

Not his best photographic moment, but let me assure you there were sounds of delight coming out between bites of that pile of meat! Something that isn’t always appreciated is that British street food sometimes gives people sticker shock, but the portions are incredibly generous. You get what you pay for. I couldn’t even finish my own sandwich, I dragged the boxed remains home for a later afternoon snack. Which Jeff ended up eating…

But nevertheless, let me heartily recommend the salted beef sandwich with a great helping of some pretty spectacular slaw.

Britain, Expat, Food, Humor, London, Travel July 3, 2014July 3, 2014

Sugar Sin in Covent Garden

“You can tell a lot about a fellow’s character by his way of eating jellybeans. ”
― Ronald Reagan

Last week was clearly an eat-your-feelings sort of week for me, so in the spirit of (over)indulgence let me introduce you to nirvana for a sweet tooth. On Tuesday I was working hard on a project, answering a lot of emails, and doing my best to take in news in healthy, moderated chunks when Jeff insisted we grab a burrito for dinner and go for a wander in the West End when we both finished the business day.

Wandering up New Row, we were both seized with a sugar craving and darted over to Long Acre to get a grab bag of candy at Sugar Sin.

British sweet shops are legendary, there’s a reason Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was written by Roald Dahl. The most traditional still have rows and rows of glass jars like an apothecary shop, filled with strange and interesting candies in addition to the more typical ones. Think of the quirky candies from Harry Potter, some of those are based in traditional British sweets.

The British sweet tooth is also a thing apart because it relies so heavily on tradition. Flowers, herbs, and spices are usually to be found included in the older recipes, as well as modern day riffs on them. Rhubarb is a popular candy flavor here, for example, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen it marketed elsewhere – at least certainly not in the local grocery store. But from funny names, to interesting shapes, to old-fashioned, British candy is where it’s at.

Sugar Sin has certainly modernized the idea, but don’t let the pink decor and flowery atmosphere fool you, at its heart it shares the cultural DNA of Golden Tickets and Chocolate Frogs. And best of all, it sells by weight. You can load up enough sweets for a month for a fraction of what you’d pay for equal amounts of branded, packaged candy.

Sometimes, after a hard week, small pleasures work wonders.

Britain, Expat, Food, Humor, London, Travel June 16, 2014June 17, 2014

Maltby Street Market

“It is the job of the market to turn the base material of our emotions into gold.”
― Andrei Codrescu, Zombification: Stories from National Public Radio

We discovered Maltby after Jeff went on a google hunt for nearby brownies after our previous favorite at Borough Market changed their recipe and we couldn’t cope with the development. Pathetic, yes, but also poetic for this is the sort of emotional cleaving that lead one to discovery, well beloved kittens. I was working away on a project when Jeff cryptically declared he’d be back in a while and returned with treasure: a box filled with Bad Brownies.

Whoa, golly.

The next weekend we both trucked to Maltby Street, the home of a small but truly impressive little cache of stalls and shops operating mostly from the archways beneath our nearby train tracks. Shops like this have always existed in Britain, anywhere you got an opening in a wall was usable space in previous centuries and utilized, so I love seeing something that could easily be forgotten or even turn shady become a thriving spot for food and trade. There are butchers, delis, patisseries, cheesemongers, fishmongers (all the mongers, really), tapas eateries, and specialty brewers all crammed in together in the loveliest way.

I only caught a few snaps because the weather was being…British…on our last trip, but I’m entirely positive you’ll be hearing more about Maltby over the summer. In the meantime, here’s something to whet your appetite!

Bad Brownie does amazing “normal” brownies, but take a pro-tip and go for their less usual flavours. You will thank me profusely.

I mean, just look at those…

London’s beverage is gin. It plagued the poor in the 18th century, well cataloged by Hogarth, and was tippled by the rich only slightly less sordidly. It’s socially acceptable version today is the G&T with cucumber and there are a lot of tasting bars, of which it must be said Little Bird looks the most charming to photograph to a girl who knows precisely nothing about such things. You can really get a sense of how the arches are decorated and turned into beautiful and unique shop spaces here. Maltby really goes for shabby, British chic and it works.

Farmhouse cheeses on English sourdough. It is impossible to properly demonstrate the portion sizes here except that one of these glories could conceivably give a fit person heart failure. Perfect!

I will have one of each by the end of summer, I vow it.

Finally, helping us class up the joint, that other British summer staple, smoked salmon.

Delicious!

Food, Humor, Husband, London June 3, 2014June 8, 2014

Solidly Late 20s

“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.”
― William Shakespeare

As of yesterday I am (so one of my younger brothers informs me) “officially old.”

My Big Brother also weighed in…I find this a bit creepy, but weirdly sweet at the same time?

I had a delightfully low key birthday and got just what I wanted: flowers, savory food, sweet food, and hangout time with Jeff. May was a rough month for both of us, work wise, and it was nice to go out to dinner just the two of us to relax from it. For about an hour and a half, after which it was straight back home to the email piles. Adulthood, kittens!

On Sunday we trekked to Old Spitalfields Market in search of my specially requested cake alternative (cupcakes from Flavourtown Bakery), only to learn that they had not set up shop in their usual spot this week. It turns out, they are being featured in the Selfridge’s food hall – well done! So, undeterred, after grabbing a quick bite at one of my favorite food trucks, we shot off to Bond Street.

The cheekily named Mother Clucker specializes in Southern style, twice fried chicken. Spices and buttermilk are of course included, but what makes this joint the real deal is the (also Southern style) sweet tea marinade that juices up their meat. Seriously, you can’t get that level of soul food without heading south of the Potomac. They also make really good fries/chips, something both Jeff and I tend to be picky about.

On Monday we both went to work as per usual before slapping on red lipstick (in my case) and reconvening after 5pm in Notting Hill at our favorite pizza joint, Otto. I first learned about Otto thanks to Lauren’s Pizza Night back in January, and it’s been a regular date location ever since. We plumped for snooty artisan lemonade and ginger beer, a treat since we almost always stick to the wallet friendly option of water when we eat out, and wolfed down three slices each of the gorgeous cornmeal crusted wonders.

After this we went home, followed up quickly on a handful of work projects, and then cracked open the cupcakes and pulled up an episode of House of Cards, our latest entertainment addiction. It was exactly what I needed. Here’s to 28, I’m ready for it!

Britain, Expat, Food, Friends, Humor, London, Travel May 20, 2014May 18, 2014

London Barbeque

“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!

Expat, Food, Humor, London, Travel May 5, 2014April 21, 2014

Burgers and the Reluctant Island Girl

“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!

Minions, meet Kua ‘Aina. Kua ‘Aina, minions. Charmed!

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?

Food, Humor, London April 21, 2014May 30, 2014

London Street Food Festival

“After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.”
― Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

On Friday after work, Jeff met me halfway home from the museum at Waterloo Bridge to grab some quick food before I dashed home and threw myself onto a pile of unexploded projects. The London Street Food Festival was on, meaning we could find some of the best food trucks in the city corralled into one area and offering up their wares for cheap. Also, that we could avoid cooking.

To hear is to obey.

The trucks and stalls were a wonderful hodgepodge of clever and creative, and boring but practical, but they all were hawking delicious wares. We combed through the offerings like the street food pros we are in record time.

Jeff plumped for a Meatball and Chips from Cheeky Italian, which he inhaled as I dragged him back to the tube station so I could go home and get to work. He was a good sport about it, though, partly because we’d also snagged some truly impressive eats.

I took home this pulled pork flirt from Dixie Union Soul Food. And it was magnificent.

Food, Friends, Humor, London April 14, 2014April 13, 2014

The Most Impressive Street Burger You Will Ever Meet

“Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the ‘Titanic’ who waved off the dessert cart.”
― Erma Bombeck

I mentioned that we took Caitlin to the Southbank Real Food Market, a delicious weekend affair that absolutely everyone should try. It’s not a large event, but it’s dang impressive.

Don’t mind if I do. But we really should retire this particular meme, I feel.

Why yes, that was a whole hog.

Say wha?

We wandered through stalls looking for something to tempt each of us. Jeff, who lived in South Korea for a couple of years, gave into his curiosity at Koritto and Caitlin was swayed by the aromatic siren call of fresh pasta, but something altogether more involved moved me.

Maybe I was still on a Paris high, but this sign caught my eye…

…before this one won my heart…

…followed closely by this cheeky gentleman.

Roasted duck meat, flavored with duck crackling, topped with blue cheese and truffle honey mixed together as they melted on the grill, on a bed of rocket, with a homemade horseradish spread. That picture above is purposefully floaty and vague to better imply the gourmand deliciousness of that concoction. All minions crashing at our flat in the near future will be summarily marched to the South Bank and obliged to ingest.

Small Dog Syndrome