Small sinks

I continue in my mission to expose the European propensity to place the faucet in impossible locations (e.g. impossible to fully clean your hands without touching the sink... or at all sometimes!).

This one is the worst.  It's practically running down the side!  And why is the sink sideways?  Just uncool. (From a pizza joint in Soho, London)

Seriously Sweden?  I'm sure you can get a larger faucet than that for such a MASSIVE sink!

These are not frites

Today after work (in NY!) I walked past a food truck labelled "Frites and Meat."  Har har.  Despite the lame rhyme, though, I was suddenly struck with a desire for some nice Belgian style frites, so I ordered some fries with a side of spicy chili aioli.  I cannot describe the sheer disappointment when my fries came back not thick, hot, crispy and chunky, but think and crispy and slightly cooled (argh!).  Now, I will be the first to defend thing American-style fries, but sometimes you want the chunky ones, especially when that's what's been (subconsciously) advertised!  Fortunately they were tasty and the aioli was very nice, but I couldn't really get over the fact that I wanted something more, well, Belgian.  The Dutch photocopied news clippings that covered the cone holding the fries only made the disappointment more bitter.  A picture of the offending fries below:

I also observed today that I had stopped automatically letting women off of the lifts ahead of me.  I wonder why that is?  Certainly it seems expected here, but the English are polite, so I doubt something about the national culture rubbed off on me.  Perhaps it was just not expected in London (highly possible, if you see how people behave on the Tube) or at my company?

Language Barriers 2

The friend who disparaged my pancakes (as I did hers) has pointed out that I failed to mention my third understanding of the word pronounced "marquee" and sometimes spelled "marquis": a nobleman of the finest tradition, dedicated to helping oppressed peoples throw off the shackles of foreign dictatorship; often bearing the name "de Lafayette."

And I misspelled "caricature."

Language Barriers

I find that the linguistic troubles that beset me in England normally have to do with food.  Some of these I have come to take in stride, but they are nevertheless non-trivial. For my most recent (re-)discoveries:

• Coffee here is either "black," or "white."  White, as you may have guessed, is with milk.  Fine, that makes some sense.  What doesn't make sense is when you order an americano, defined as espresso with water, and they ask you if you want it white.  Huh?  I mean, I suppose you could want some milk in it, but then that's why they have little jugs of milk at the coffee shop.  And if I say I want it white, do you only add milk, and no water?  Isn't that a latte without the froth?  Or do you add water and then the milk?  For that matter, why are you ever asking if you want coffee black or white at a take-away coffee shop with jugs of milk by the napkins?  Shouldn't the customer just add the milk themselves?  Why bother having the jugs if you're going to do it?  I find this strange.  Especially with americanos.
• Pancakes are not pan-cakes here.  They are neither crepes (thin, large, light, delicate) or American pancakes (fat, fluffy, yummy) but rather some sad caricature of food: thin, chewy, dense, and rubbery.  When confronted with the logic that cakes are fluffy, and therefore so pancakes should be, an English friend said that pancakes shouldn't double as coasters; I countered that they shouldn't double as placemats.  Keep in mind that this is not unique to a single chef, but rather has been my experience with many different pancake... sculptors?
• Something that occurs during the period of time is said to be "at" the weekend.  How very strange... to me, "at" the weekend implies that it would be on the cusp (e.g. Friday night) and wouldn't make much sense at that.  "On" the weekend is likewise roundly rejected here.  At least we can agree on "over," and "during."
• "Fort" and "fought" have the same pronunciation.  This created some issues when being read a poem.  My Canadian housemate and I couldn't understand what was being said!  "Fort shy?  That does not make sense."  This is not so much a problem as it is interesting, because I had previously identified words that sound the same in American English but are distinguished in Received Pronunciation, as the standard "Queen's English" is known.
• A marquee bar is a bar in a tent.  While I understand that marquee is a type of tent, the first image that popped into mind was of a bar under a neon sign saying "bar!"  Apparently that usage isn't known here...

Zoomio… ehhhh!

I have the sensation that I am going very, very quickly.  My seat buzzes with the speed and I glance outside the window.  Outside it’s dark, gloomy, filthy; somewhere I would never choose to be, and I am glad to have some good country music to keep myself occupied.  But that’s only because I’m in a tunnel on the high-speed train returning to Rome from Florence, and soon I will re-emerge into the glorious Tuscan sunshine, to look upon a rolling landscape sprinkled with farms and vineyards; a stunning image of green, fields, stone cottages and tractors, framed by Cyprus trees and leaping mountains in the distance.  Closer-to, a town is perched upon a small plateau fronted by 50 foot cliffs.  I have no complaints, especially given the stark contrast between the Italian countryside and the chaotic, filthy, but equally spectacular cities.  It is my fourth day in Italy after as many nights.  The first two were spent in Rome, followed by a day and a half in Florence, which is quite different.

So how was it?  Well, Rome was incredible.  If you have just one city to visit in Europe, I would seriously consider putting it on your short-list.  The Renaissance-period architecture and monuments are unbelievable – perhaps the most spectacular edifices of marble I have ever seen.  Around corners or through narrow passageways, and you emerge into grand squares, with some historical monument or church (oh look… the pantheon!). Fountains flow from numerous squares, surrounded by locals enjoying their evening gelato.  And what delicious gelato they have.  I have had no fewer than 6 cups of gelato, and every one was delicious.  Perhaps the best was from a place that claims to also be in New York, but I have seen no evidence other than their cups [EDIT: It’s called Della Palma, I discovered on my 7th cup].  Most of the food has, in fact, been delicious.  The pasta is tasty - though, I will have to admit, really no better than a good Italian restaurant in New York City - and the toppings on my grab and go pizza slices were so fresh that the simplicity didn’t matter; just some chunks of fresh tomato, basil and unmelted cheese.  Mmm.  Next time I go into a pizzeria I will definitely consider similar, which I normally pass over for more - let’s say puréed - pizzas.  Another slice (loosely used, as they are actually cut from a large rectangle and sold by weight) had some of the most flavorful pesto I have ever tasted, with some cream and whole walnuts.  I won’t pretend that any of it was healthy.

As for the sights, the pantheon was incredible, St. Peter’s Basilica was glorious (rivaling or surpassing the Hagia Sofia in Istanbul) and the Coliseum was falling apart… but amazing still.  The various squares and famous fountains were all well worth seeing too.  Unfortunately we did not have a chance to go to the Vatican museum, which was closed on Sunday, but I intend to return today to see the Sistine Chapel.

Our accommodations, however, really could have used some work.  We arrived at the main train station in Rome, and following the directions to our hostel, we walked down some shady, graffiti-covered streets.  And then some more.  And then some more.  And past a cat woman feeding 10 feral cats.  And down an empty block with just a few people standing outside of doors, but that was otherwise shut down.  We walked up and down this block a few times, as it allegedly contained our hostel, but did not see any signs.  Finally, one of the loitering men spoke up: “are you looking for the hostel?”  I was reminded of illegal watch sellers in China (“psst, fake Rolex?”) which did not precisely bode well.  He took us into the building, which had a dirty, grimy lobby area, and was obviously residential.  At this point, if I had been apartment shopping, I would not only have walked away but found a new real estate agent.  So it goes.  Up a single flight of stairs and we were at our room.  Apparently, this “hostel” only had two rooms, and we had the private one.  Of course, it only had one bed (my friend and I had requested two).  Oh well.  Surprisingly though, it had a computer, a decent bathroom with shower, and very high ceilings, so it may perhaps be the nicest illegal hostel in Italy.  Nevertheless, it did not feel clean, simply because of the surroundings. 

Not a great introduction to Rome, and it was hardly enhanced by our adventure to the San Lorenzo area where the university students go out.  Every street was likewise covered by graffiti (as, really, are many streets in Rome), and eventually we arrived in a collection of streets full of euro-chic students in dark attire (how many leather jackets?  sooo many).  The main attraction appeared to be square full of students cradling beers and smoking (it is Europe) so we grabbed pizza and gelato, walked around, and ended up settling down an people-watching.  Certainly different from the normal Rome experience, and I’m glad we did it.  Of course, much of the Rome experience involves people-watching, but setting was different :).  Strangely, despite the grime of Rome, most streets have a few constantly-flowing water fountains dumping water into the drains.  You can either fill a bottle with its spring-fed aqueduct-transported water, or cover the spout and receive an upward squirt to drink.  Delicious, and free!

And Florence? Florence is not nearly so grand as Rome is, but has an amazing collection of art, both in churches and in museums.  I saw Michelangelo’s David, the tombs of Machiavelli and Galileo, and the Duomo, which is not only a very striking church in green and white stone, but also the first dome built in modern times (as the art was lost after the fall of the Roman Empire).  There is also an interesting bridge covered with shopkeepers and their stalls, and a fantastic view of all the red-brick roofs from a hill on the south side of town. Unfortunately, the town is quite touristy, which means that there aren’t many restaurants that aren’t frequented by foreigners.  The result was that you simply had to judge which ones the Italians favored and go with them.  The best story to illustrate this involves three women from - by the sound of it - New Jersey, who decided that the menu was “too fishy” and “too touristy.”  They promptly got up and left the restaurant.  I remarked that they were probably looking at the fish menu, and that they were being rather rude.  At this point, we heard some fairly familiar voices behind us.  Having decided that the restaurant we were at was too touristy, they went the restaurant next door.  In the same touristy square.  Nice.  Like tourists go to one of the restaurants and not the other?  My amusement was heightened even further when the people to replace them at the seats next to us were Italian.  

Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot to see at night in Florence, but this also presents an opportunity – you can hop on a commuter train to Pisa, to see how not to build a tower.  Ari (my travelling companion) and I hopped on a train after our self-tour of Florence to go see the tower, have pizza (because you have to have pizza in Pisa: it alliterates!), and meet some new friends (which we duly did when two Swedes invited us to dine with them).

Update:  I am now on the plane to London, and managed to see the Sistine Chapel.  The Vatican Museum took me about an hour to get through just walking (there’s really only one way to go, except for detours that loop back upon the main path) with minimal pauses.  The artwork in the museum was amazing, particularly, for me, the pristine Roman sculptures.  The Sistine Chapel is huge and an obvious masterpiece, but I was a bit underwhelmed.  The problem is that the paintings are all so far away, you can only vaguely identify them, and can’t really enjoy the mastery of the paintings.  Instead, you get the bigger picture which is, no offence to Michaelangelo, a bit cluttered (consisting, after all, of so many different scenes).  I was struck by the same sense that I had at the Louvre when viewing the Mona Lisa, which is not only relatively small, but protected by about a foot of glass, situated 10 feet from the closest viewing point, and surrounded by hordes of tourists taking photos of the painting far worse than what they would find on the Louvre’s website.  Faced with this scene, I chose to take, instead, a picture of the tourists.  I suppose I should write about my journey to Paris soon!

On another, interesting cultural note, I think I saw a mother breast feeding her 6 year old, standing child (I obviously didn’t look closely out of deference).  I wonder how common this is in other cultures?  It reminds me of a scene from The Last Emperor. 

P.S. About Brownies

By the way, though it was expected I would not be able to find candy canes, I was also completely unable to locate peppermints, which I figured could substitute on the topping.  No matter, I think the brownies are probably better without them, but I'm constantly amazed by the random things you can't buy in London...

A May Bank Holiday Weekend

So, this past weekend was a holiday weekend, coinciding with Memorial Day in the US.  In England, it was "Late Spring Bank Holiday" (but interestingly not in Scotland or Northern Ireland... the UK has far less national identity than, say, a Canadian trout, which will be found popping out of the water just to tell you that Shania Twain is a Canadian, don't you know... but I digress; more about that another time).  So, having a three day weekend, I perfected relaxation.  On Saturday, I made myself fluffy pancakes (highly recommended: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Fluffy-Pancakes-2/Detail.aspx), went to get two tickets for O.A.R., an amazing band that is popular among college students, and is well-known enough to sell out Madison Square Garden.  I missed them last time they were here because I didn't want to pay an online booking fee and kept forgetting to go to the box office, until they sold out the week before.  As you have probably guessed, they are not nearly so popular here, which has proven to be a problem - all of my friends who know them are busy studying or are away for the weekend, and nobody else knows who they are!  And this band can sell out The Garden!  Anyway, I then met up with some people to see Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, and enjoyed it, as atrocious as it was.  I was probably swayed by having played 1.5 of the "Sands of Time" themed video games while my apartment in college was addicted to them.

On Sunday, I went to Islington - which is one of my favorite areas of London because it's not only pretty but the restaurants are actually local and unique instead of the same old bland high street chains (I am not opposed to chains per say, simply bland ones!) - and got coffee and cake with my friend Eunice at Fig & Olive (http://www.yelp.co.uk/biz/fig-and-olive-london).  My cheesecake and her gooseberry (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gooseberry) tart were both delicious, and we enjoyed them through a narrow passageway leading to a quiet park surrounded by victorian townhouses (as are common in nice areas of London... though they are not often public).  We had actually intended to get food at the Islington Market, but we were unable to find it (or get into it), despite seeing a sign.  However, as a result of our wandering, we did walk past Emma Watson, whose phone number I got.  Okay, I didn't get her phone number, but I did get a photo with her:

Okay, so in case you have no sense of humor, that photograph is fake, so I didn't get a photo with her, but I did walk past her a second time after dropping of my friend at the tube.  At which point I said to her, "look, I don't know who you are, or why you're following me, but it's completely inappropriate!"  Except that I didn't, but I did chuckle to myself thinking about it.  I then walked back through the north part of London, through Camden Town (an area with a big market and the box office I had gone to on Saturday) and through Regent's park, which is beautiful, and has a tasty looking sausage hut that reminded me I had yet to eat lunch, and had no cash.  Oops!  So I went back home, and bought corned beef to try to make a corned beef sandwich (preferably on rye with swiss and sauerkraut! oooooh reuben....), but lo and behold, corned beef here is not, I repeat not the same thing that it is in the US.  It's gross.  And it's dry.  And most of it comes in tins.  Like spam. EW.  I will not be buying it again (I bought an untinned kind, don't worry!), though the horseradish and mustard certainly made it more palatable.  There is something similar to corned beef called salt beef that is sold in food halls and at some specialty sandwich shops (normally emblazoned, aptly, with the words "Salt" and "Beef"), which is good, but still not the same. 

On Monday, I went on a quest to make peppermint brownies (http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Ghirardelli-Peppermint-Brownies/Detail.aspx).  This quest had, in fact, begun months before, when I realized the difficulty of obtaining 100% unsweetened chocolate in London.  So I had Sara bring me some from New York.  Thanks Sara!  Since then, it has appeared in the (regular, but nice) grocery store near me, which is the only place I have seen it (I think), and it comes in a big 180g hunk (as opposed to easily-melted bars) for about $5.50 for 4 oz (compare this to Ghirardelli for $3.50, or Baker's brand for $1.70 in the US).  Anyway, the chocolate problem solved, I thought the rest would be easy.  Alas, it took me three grocery stores to find real peppermint extract (and two to find fake peppermint flavo(u)ring), which left me near Whole Foods, the grace of London.  I was never a big Whole Foods person in New York, since I didn't see the point (I lived near a great normal grocery store) but in London it allows me to get imported things for less than anywhere else (if they are uncommon), which on Monday meant pepper jelly and Peanut Butter & Co. brand Peanut Butter (direct from NYC).  Of course, they also have fresh peanut butter in-store made by grinding peanuts, so perhaps the PB &Co was a poor choice.  Anyway, I finally made it back home and made the mint brownies.  I had to substitute the Ghirardelli-squares-as-icing with after-eight-mints-as-icing which was probably a poor choice given the chewy nature of After Eights (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/After_Eight) compared to Ghirardelli squares (which are creamy inside), and definitely made the brownies quite sweet.  But still delicious.  Highly recommended recipe.  Top that off with a delicious dinner of corn (I have it a lot now that it's in season), which is amazing and delicious, and imported (which I suppose isn't so good).  It comes, pathetically, in little plastic sealed packets and the cobs are about half the length of a proper American ear of corn, despite some of it coming from the US (I think we get shipped the dregs).  Oh well, it's still delicious with butter, salt and pepper.  MMMMMmmmmm