On the strangely sunny Saturday in London, Nilay, Jai and myself set off on the B.C. Tour of the countryside, in this case, B.C. referring to "Before Christ". Ancient stones - Avebury and Stonehenge - and Roman baths in a small town conveniently named Bath beckoned us. Public transport would have been difficult, and thus, Jai rented a car, Nilay drove and I observed life from the backseat.
For a still unexplained reason, the Brits choose to drive on the wrong side of the road. It's a convenient set-up for those that happen to live in a wrong side driving country, but not so convenient for those coming from a country that wisely drives on the right side of the road (read, most of the rest of the world). Of many problems for those not used to driving on the wrong side of the road is an issue we dubbed "drift", in which the driver's natural instinct for order and reason kick in and the car begins drifting to the left side of the road. When this happened, especially in the first half of the day, Jai's hand would flutter in front of the steering column, visually reminding Nilay to move over. My reminder was not so subtle; from the back seat, I would exclaim "drift, drift, drift".
Nilay did quite well, considering he was driving on the wrong side of the road, and did I mention that Jai has still not been able to adequately explain why he decided to rent the car in Mayfair off of Oxford street in downtown London? Considering the long list of potential objects that could be hit as a result of drift - pedestrians, buses, autos, monuments, sideview mirrors on parked cars, etc. and the complexities of driving in downtown London (for which cab drivers study for years) Nilay managed to hit only two cars, no pedestrians, no monuments, no double decker buses. The first occurred about 1.5 miles from the Avis station, when an innocent sideview mirror on a BMW interfered in the range of motion of the passenger side mirror of our rental car (which had been driven only 12 miles when Avis gave us the keys). Jai was more than a little startled. Once Nilay and I grasped what had happened - and being from a car culture which encouraged us as teenagers to tell creative tales about minor scrapes and bruises to our cars - began to laugh hysterically. Throughout the day, once of us would begin to snicker and within seconds, we would all be laughing uncontrollably.
The second occurred in a tiny village, somewhere between Avebury and Stonehenge. Again, an innocent car, again the thud of our mirror connecting with an innocents', although the second time was not as loud, not as surprising. Perhaps we were already desensitized?
More on food during my holiday to the UK to follow.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Sunday, April 10, 2005
An Update, Not too Late
Yes, I know that it's been quite some time since something was posted on this page. I could come up with any number of half-baked excuses. Such as, I've been too busy type-type-typing at work to spend more time writing a few entries which may or may not be interesting. Nothing memorable has passed between my lips. An individual of the opposite gender has recently entered my life. Sadly, these would be half baked excuses with a heavy dosage of fiction.
The truth is much less juicy. Nilay, owner of the server which hosts these musings, recently moved to London and it took a longer than expected period of time for the server and Internet to become reconnected. But, all is now happily working away, and until the services company cuts off his access because he has failed to secure the proper bank cards and other permissions required for any type of basic service in the United Kingdom, everything should work.
Some highlights of note since mid-February:
--Dinner at Fifth Floor. Of the seven-course meal, the maple-touched fois gras was the highlight. If ducks or geese or whatever animal made the excellent delicacy must be force fed, so be it. I can't describe how good it was. You'll just have to believe me.
--Stir fry based in a peanut sauce in Seattle.
--I taught Gabe how to make excellent brownies. He taught me how to add other ingredients. Like mint. I would never engage in any illegal activities.
--Guacamole at Tommy's. Pork and chicken combined in a tamale was mmmmm.
--Delfina. The pasta with fava beans and pig cheeks was incredible. While I was expecting a sliced morsel of pork to arrive, instead, pieces of pork resembling bacon were mixed in with the pasta. Pig cheeks are very similar to bacon, only better than bacon. If that can be believed. And, best dessert ever: rhubarb tart with ginger ice cream.
--Crab feed in Napa. We were among the first to be served, we were among the last to finish eating. Nothing more needs to be said.
--Airport dinner. For years, I've been walking past the Seafood Pot or Fishmonger's Stew or some other trite name of a restaurant located opposite of the security run through in the United terminal at SFO. Greg suggested we eat there when we met at the airport (I was flying home from Seattle, he was taking a red-eye, and the only thing dorkier could have been if we were actually married and meeting for dinner). While trying to squeeze a lime into his Corona, the bottle shot out of his hand, skidded across the table and shattered into a million little pieces of glass on the floor. The meal continued without any other incidents demanding the attention of servers. HOWEVER, I believe that our conversation probably provided more than enough entertainment/food for thought to the traveler wearing the three-piece suit sitting behind us. The food was much better than passable - recommendation worthy.
The truth is much less juicy. Nilay, owner of the server which hosts these musings, recently moved to London and it took a longer than expected period of time for the server and Internet to become reconnected. But, all is now happily working away, and until the services company cuts off his access because he has failed to secure the proper bank cards and other permissions required for any type of basic service in the United Kingdom, everything should work.
Some highlights of note since mid-February:
--Dinner at Fifth Floor. Of the seven-course meal, the maple-touched fois gras was the highlight. If ducks or geese or whatever animal made the excellent delicacy must be force fed, so be it. I can't describe how good it was. You'll just have to believe me.
--Stir fry based in a peanut sauce in Seattle.
--I taught Gabe how to make excellent brownies. He taught me how to add other ingredients. Like mint. I would never engage in any illegal activities.
--Guacamole at Tommy's. Pork and chicken combined in a tamale was mmmmm.
--Delfina. The pasta with fava beans and pig cheeks was incredible. While I was expecting a sliced morsel of pork to arrive, instead, pieces of pork resembling bacon were mixed in with the pasta. Pig cheeks are very similar to bacon, only better than bacon. If that can be believed. And, best dessert ever: rhubarb tart with ginger ice cream.
--Crab feed in Napa. We were among the first to be served, we were among the last to finish eating. Nothing more needs to be said.
--Airport dinner. For years, I've been walking past the Seafood Pot or Fishmonger's Stew or some other trite name of a restaurant located opposite of the security run through in the United terminal at SFO. Greg suggested we eat there when we met at the airport (I was flying home from Seattle, he was taking a red-eye, and the only thing dorkier could have been if we were actually married and meeting for dinner). While trying to squeeze a lime into his Corona, the bottle shot out of his hand, skidded across the table and shattered into a million little pieces of glass on the floor. The meal continued without any other incidents demanding the attention of servers. HOWEVER, I believe that our conversation probably provided more than enough entertainment/food for thought to the traveler wearing the three-piece suit sitting behind us. The food was much better than passable - recommendation worthy.
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