Capers

(Aileen)
The Oxford English Dictionary defines a caper as:

Noun
- a flower bud of a southern European shrub, pickled for use in cooking
- an illicit or ridiculous activity or escapade

Today we had both – a nice tasty serving of the pickled shrub kind, and a £265 boo-boo.

Ed’s off for Chicago tomorrow so we decided to do a Saturday-on-Sunday i.e. booze, food and not much else (vs. Saturday booze, food and some activity or other).

After a lazy Starbucks cappuccino, Ed haircut, and stops at Blockbuster (to stock up on movies for tonight) and the dry cleaners, we set off for an excursion to Harrods, the venerable London shopping institution, with a renowned food hall.

First stop was the luxury accessories section for some hand-bag window shopping. At the moment I’m leaning towards a nice staid allrounder Mulberry Bayswater, but am deferring judgment until I see the duty free prices at Heathrow.

From there we headed to the Oyster bar for a mid-day treat – half a dozen Fin De Claire and half a dozen French Belons, accompanied by a bottle of white Burgundy. The oysters whet but did not satiate the appetite so we capped off with a shared plate of Scottish smoked salmon served with salad and a delicious mound of capers (love capers!).

Caper of the shrub variety


With satisfied bellies and a wine buzz, we left the oyster bar and headed to the butchers to pick up 2 nice looking dry-aged sirloins a.k.a strip steaks. At the fruit and veg hall we picked up the trimmings - a variety of mushrooms (chanterelle, cepes, girollo, and some french blue mushrooms), white asparagus, oakleaf lettuce, and 2 roasting potatoes.

Next stop was the wine cellar i.e. where the ridiculous escapade took place. I accidentally bought a £265 bottle of wine. That’s right folks - $500 worth of grape juice. The operative word here is “accidentally”. For whatever reason I thought I was buying a £45 bottle. I paid no attention at the till when Ed was paying, and it wasn’t until we were outside that Ed asked if I meant to buy a £265 bottle of wine. I almost had a heart attack. We had a minor debate on which was the less of the evils – the shame of returning the bottle vs. walking home with a ridiculously expensive 1990 Chateau Troplong Mondot St Emillion. I gamely walked back to the wine cellar (as Ed lingered around the the Krispy Crème donut stand) and confessed my boo-boo to the cashier (and then manager who had to approve the refund). Thankfully they refunded the bottle. As a concession (and probably to alleviate the sense of shame) I bought a perfectly respectable 1998 Chateaux Margeaux (in addition to a half bottle of champagne).

The mistake


We passed by Laduree on the way out to pick some macaroons (2 pistachio, 2 caramel, 2 coffee and 1 rose) – crisp on the outside, soft chewy and sweet on the inside.

We’re now planted on the couch enjoying a half-bottle of Veuve Clicquot, perusing through iTunes videos, building up at an appetite for our Harrods goodies.

For £5 and achy ankles

(Aileen)
Yesterday we watched a show at the Shakespeare Globe Theatre. I’d always imagined the theatre to be somewhere out near Greenwich somewhere, but lo and behold, it’s just tucked behind some trees right next to the Tate Modern. So from Waterloo it was a leisurely stroll along the Southbank, in surprisingly good weather, to get to the theatre.

Pics from Stroll along Southbank


We bought our tickets a week ago, and the only one’s available were yard a.k.a standing room, or where the poor people used to stand. But for £5 per ticket, and some achy ankles, it was definitely a worthy experience. On show was The Merchant of Venice. The theatre was surprisingly intimate, and the actors very frequently made their way through the yard crowd to get to the stage throughout the play - we were standing by the pier (it was venice after all).



Afterwards we took a leisurely stroll to St Pauls to catch a bus to Chinatown for a dose of wonton soup, roast duck, Chinese greens, and egg fried rice.

Post-show stroll (L-R): Ed and St Pauls, Cathedral entrance

Mental Health Friday

(Aileen)
We had plans to be in Oslo this weekend. However about 3 weeks ago we updated (and were horrified by) our finances and decided to defer Norway to next year. With the day already logged in our work vacation trackers, we decided to make a day of it anyway and muck about in and around London.

The day started quite early. A 6 am start for me to get some last minute work done (yes, sad indeed). By 8 Ed was up and had a pot of coffee going. We spent most of the morning planted on the couch. Around 10:30 we peeled ourselves off the sofa to get dressed and were out the door by 11:30, on our way to lunch at Chez Bruce.

Chez Bruce is a relatively small and inconspicuous restaurant along the 2 block highstreet of Wandsworth Common (about a mile to a mile and a half from our flat). This year it was rated Top for Food in Zagats, ending Gordon Ramsey’s 7 (?) year reign, and beating all the other flashy name restaurants in London. It’s prix fixe menu also happens to be half the price of aforementioned flashy London restaurants so we were duly intrigued.

The food was indeed excellent. We kicked of with 2 glasses of champagne. Ed started of with an absolutely exquisite fois gras and chicken liver parfait served with a generous chunk of brioche toast. I started with a scrumptious chanterelle soup with tarragon croutons and truffle cream. For mains, Ed had the haddock, which was served with scallops, gnocchi, and prosciutto. I had the duck assiette served with some roasted foie gras and flageolet beans. I was somewhat weary of the beans and the rather soupy presentation, but the beans and tasty sauce were absolutely delicious accompaniments to the medium rare duck breast, what looked like a duck heart, and the heavenly piece of fois gras. Yummy. To accompany our meal we semi-splurged on a 1999 Nuit-St-Georges Burgundy. Quite the treat.

Food pics (L-R): Foie Gras parfait, Chanterelle soup, Haddock, Duck


The cheese and dessert that followed were a bit of a let down. The cheese was a little on the unadventurous side – nothing to write home about. For dessert Ed had the trifle, and I had the prune tart served with clotted cream. But with the alcohol still flowing (Ed has a Macallan 10 year, and I some 10 year tawny port) we were still happy as clams.

Dessert pics (L-R): Trifle, Prune tart with clotted cream


Around 3pm (3 hours later) we finally ended lunch and wandered to the movie theatre where we had tickets for the 4 pm Bourne Ultimatum. The movie was really good apparently, though I would not know since I napped through most of it. Afterwards we checked out the Clapham High Street Friday scene, and had sufficient amounts of beer and mojito, capped off with an indulgent box of KFC fried chicken. Aah. Days such as these are always nice. So nice to have both Saturday and Sunday to recover.

Mortadella

(Aileen)
I believe I can trace it’s origins back to a Panini consumed at the small wine bar by our gate at Genoa airport (on our way back from Tuscany). "It" being our recent obsession with Mortadella. To kill time, we planted ourselves at the wine bar and enjoyed several rounds of prosecco. This gave us a bit of the munchies, so we randomly ordered a mortadella panini. We’ve been on a mortadella kick since.

Our mortadella source here in London is the Italian deli across the street from the butchers. We’ll usually pick up 4-6 slices on our Saturday morning Northcote route (except for the time when the deli owner went on vacation for 3 weeks in August - a sad 3 weeks). We’ll head home, put the groceries away, and then prepare for the treat.

Ed’s the official mortadella sandwich maker. He takes a 6 inch piece of baguette, slices a wedge along the side, slathers on mayo, carefully positions the mortadella, and voila, the scrumptious treat’s ready to be eaten. It’s our post-tennis/shopping treat.

New contraption

(Aileen)
I got a new contraption yesterday (pictured below).



This strange looking contraption is in fact an asthma inhaler.

No, I do not have asthma. But I have been suffering from a recurring cough since New Year.

I contracted the cough around New Year. Ed contracted and suffered from a terrible cold in December, and then very graciously shared it with me. Several months spent in the confined, airconditioned natural-light-depraved bays of the Accenture Mumbai office didn’t help matters. After several fruitless visits to my NHS GP (absolutely useless), and 1 or 2 (what I feel unecessary and not particularly healthy) treatments of antibiotics, this past August I finally demanded to see a specialist.

I met with Dr Collins of Chelsea's Lister Hospital yesterday. After discussing my case history, putting me through a breath test, and listening here and there, he deduced that I did not have asthma, but perhaps highly sensitive cough nerves, probably rattled by the India experience and still a little on the sensitive side.

So whenever I feel my cough rearing it’s ugly head, all I need to do is take a dose of my inhaler to calm down those fiddly cough nerves. My hope is they’ll eventually take the hint and settle down back to some level of normalcy.

Lists

(Aileen)
I was cleaning up my email this morning and found the following list I had sent myself last Friday while in Cornwall. It is a list of what we had consumed (food and drink) by 14:30 on Friday:

• Between 6 and 10 cups of coffee (3 – 5 each)
• ½ Mortadella sandwich each
• Pack of rice crisps (shared)
• Pack of dried mango (shared)
• Pack of Japanese rice crackers (shared)
• Half bacon sandwich each
• Between 8 and 10 cups of tea (4 – 5 each)
• Cream tea - 1 raisin and 1 plain scone, served with strawberry jam and clotted cream (shared)
• Chicken mushroom pie with mash and peas (Ed)
• Fish and chips (Aileen)
• Beer (1 each)

It is no wonder I gained weight on the trip (was quite horrified when I got on the scale on Monday morning).

I was wondering recently though – Is this what life holds in store? A lifetime of watching what you eat? What happened to the good old days of wild abandonment and reckless eating? Age has crept up and slammed on the metabolism breaks.

At least we’ve recognized this limitation, and are now somewhat careful of what we eat. Weekday meals usually consist of:
• Breakfast – Nothing (as the outright rule breaker in the household when it comes to food, I may sometimes sneak in a croissant or yoghurt)
• Lunch - Veg wrap of some sort (Aileen will dutifully skip if she was naughty with a croissant earlier that day)
• Dinner – matchbox size piece of fish served with generous helping of steamed veg OR salad; a small plate of cheese (shared); and a small bowl of cereal (for Ed and sometimes Aileen)

On weekends, we let go quite a bit (as a reward for the disciplined weekdays). And on holidays? Fogetaboutit! We go nuts! (as you’ve no doubt gleaned by now from the scores of food pictures we take when on vaca)

Is it normal to be dreaming all day about what one will be eating in the evening (even if you know it’ll be just a tiny piece of fish and some veg). Is it normal to be dreaming and scheming all week about what one will be eating on the weekend? In the Small household, you can be sure that discussions on the coming weekend’s meal commence on Monday morning. By Monday we had already decided to consume the following this coming weekend:
• Friday: Steak dinner at either La Pampa or Le Bouchon
• Saturday: Dimsum or roast duck, veg and rice in Chinatown
• Sunday breakfast: Bacon roll (Dove bacon on a soft bap lovingly prepared by Ed)
• Sunday dinner : Some kind of meat served with veg (Depends on what Dove butcher has on offer on Saturday)

Are you hungry yet? I am.

Mission Update

(Aileen)
6-Sept, 05:30
Mission not accomplished. The operation was carried out last night. No wasp appeared. The operation was carried out again this morning, and yet not wasp appeared.

We have perhaps underestimated the intelligence and cunning of these creatures. Either that or our missons were flawed. We have further theorized the following and will adjust the mission plan accordingly:

1. The perpertrators may actually be attracted to the odour of Bodyshop Clementine soap. Last night we did not infuse the air with this odour. Rather we only turned on the shower with hot water. Incorrect assumption: They were attracted only to the warmth of the shower steam
2. The perpetrators may be slow risers. In the incidences on the 4th and 5th of Sept, they appeared only after Ed’s shower. As Ed is working from home today and therefore did not feel the need to take a shower at 5:30 am, there may not have been sufficient shower/Clementine odour time to awake them.

The mission continues…..

Operation Wasp

(Aileen)

The Smalls have a mission tonight. The mission is to ascertain the secret hide out of wasps that have been tormenting the Small household in the wee hours of the morning these past 2 days.

Mission Background
4 Sept, 05:30
Yesterday I was walking from the 2nd bedroom from where I fetched my comb and lip balm when I heard loud thumping, grunting, four letter word cursing sounds emanating from the bathroom. As it was 5:30 in the morning, and I knew that Ed was in the bathroom, I was mystified and a little worried.

5 minutes later (the bathroom is now silent) I knock on the door and request entry. Ed provides a debrief. Earlier that morning he noticed a dead wasp on the shower floor. Strange, he thought. Upon exiting the shower, he noticed a further 2 wasps enter the bathroom through the window. Then the battle ensued. He emerged victorious, but further action would be required to 1) Fortify the Small household from further attacks and 2) Locate and destroy said perpetrators.

Ed purchased some bug spray in the evening. We were thus prepared for the next onslaught.

5 Sept, 05:30
Again, I took a shower with no untoward incidence. Again, as Ed was exiting the shower, a wasp swooped into the bathroom through the window. This time I was present to witness the event. A battle ensued. Again, Ed was victorious. I believe the wasp drowned when generously doused with the bug spray.

The Mission (should we choose to accept)
Seek and identify hideout of perpetrators. If successful, this will provide key information for the bug people who Ed has solicited to “take care” of i.e. eradicate said perpetrators.

Mission details are as follows:
1. Lay a trap/bait for the perpetrators a.k.a Aileen to position herself in the bathroom and open the windows
2. At the same time, Ed to position himself in the 2nd bedroom window to ascertain hiding location from where they launch their attack
3. Aileen to close window once a wasp takes the bait. Permission to exterminate using all available means has been granted.

Denmark

(Aileen)

We took a long weekend trip to Denmark 3 weeks back (2 days in Arhus and 2 days in Copenhagen). Upon returning work got in the way and prevented me from doing justice to the trip via blog. The trip does however deserve a quick callout so below is a list of highlights of the trip (accompanied with some pictures):

1. Chilling outside under heaters and wrapped in blankets in Aarhus many café’s.
2. Taking a trip back in time with a visit to the restored Arhus Old Town (Den Gamle By)
3. Strolling through Copenhagen
4. A night out at the Copenhagen Tivoli
5. Climbing up the tower of and the amazing views from Our Saviour’s Church in Christianshaven
6. Meals at Peder Oxe and Ida Davidson
7. Watching the world go by while sipping beers along Nyhaven
8. Taking a Copenhagen canal tour
9. Eating Danish Danish in Denmark
10. The lovely people of Denmark

Below is a small sample of pics we took on our trip. (L-R) Mean Mojito's at an Arhus cafe, Arhus Old Town, Cornucopia of Danish, Nyhaven, Dinner at Peder Oxe



To view our complete set of pics from Denmark, please visit the Smallzone Travel Page.

Taking a breather in Cornwall

(Aileen)

Friday
The alarm clock sounds off at 2:45. Exhausted and bleary eyed we begrudgingly get out of bed, turn the coffee percolator on, get dressed, pack remaining items and collect items we’re taking with into one pile, and what a big pile it is! That’s the great thing about travelling by car, you can bring along anything you think you might use (with emphasis on “might”). No justification and rationalizing required thank you very much. When travelling by air, everything needs to fit into the little carry on bag (avoid checking in luggage at all costs!).

By 3:15 we’re out the door for the 15 minute walk over to the parking lot by the M&S to pick up our Streetcar car. Streetcar is quite a nifty service with which we are heartily impressed. So much so that I will dedicate a whole blog entry to espouse it’s virtues. With a flash of the membership card, entry of PIN, extracting of keys, adjustment of seats and mirrors we’re off. Back to the flat we drive to load up.

By 3:45 we are officially on the road – navigating our way through the quiet early morning streets of London. With some minor street navigation issues (a.k.a Aileen not paying attention to street signs), we navigate our way onto the M4. As long at we make it to Bristol by 7 we should be fine.

An hour and 45 minutes later we pass through Bristol. Woohoo! We’re on a roll. iPod music is a-blaring, grumbling tummies were appeased with mortadella sandwiches made and eaten somewhere between Reading and Bath, the caffeine is kicking in. We trundle down the M5 then take the long winding A30.

By 8ish we arrive in Penzance and decide to kill some time. We attempt to park the car and realize we don’t have any change for the parking meter. To get change we purchase what turns out to be the nastiest bacon sandwich ever - 2 flavourless rashers cooked under a grill, encased in 2 sad limp pieces of white (no doubt loaded with cancer/obesity inducing hydrogenated substances), prepared by a young lady who looks absolutely miserable to be doing what she’s doing. Yet we eat it (how does one pass up bacon exactly?) and manage to get a tidy supply of change for parking.

Penzance is pretty enough but nothing spectacular. Our opinions would no doubt have been better disposed if the sun were out but alas it was a typical English Summer 2007 day – cold, grey and dreary. Of some interest were the old lido (tide fed pool – which unfortunately did not make up for the lack of beach), strolling through the old streets such as Chapel street (with it’s 300 year old pubs), the views of Mount St Michael (small sibling to Normandy’s Mont St Michel), and peering through shop windows at the Cornish pasties.

Mount Saint Michael, Cornish Pasties



With no specific planned itinerary, we decide to drive around the area before checking into our B&B. From Penzance we head to Sennen Cove – a lovely beached cove with a cute little harbour. We stroll up the hill by the harbour for some amazing views of Land’s End and the cove. From Sennen it was a short drive to Porthcurno to check out the beach. We have an early dinner at a pub in Porthcurno before heading to our B&B to check in.

Ed admiring views of Land’s End, Porthcurno Beach



The Ardensawah B&B is working farm B&B, run by Janet and her husband (the farmer). In the middle of their several hectares of vegetable crop farmland lies the B&B (also their home). In some of the farm sheds by the B&B are a flock of chickens, ducks and geese, and some pigs. Janet sells the free-range eggs from a little basket hanging on a fence out front, by a small change jar. To purchase a half a dozen eggs, you simply drop 65c in the change jar and take your eggs. The pigs are sold to the local butcher. The farm is “guarded” by 3 farm dogs (I say “guarded” loosely as they’re sweetie pies). It’s a lovely B&B. Janet was a very gracious host, and our room had marvellous views of Cornwall countryside and the ocean.

Ardensawah dogs and pigs


When we arrive, Janet’s left a note on the door. She’s stepped out for a short bit, but the door’s open and we’re welcome to enter and head to our room. It’s about 4 pm and we’re starting to feel the pain of having woken up at 2:30 am. We decide to take a “nap” (always a risky proposition). We have tickets for the 8 pm show at the outdoor Minack Theatre nearby, but it’s quite cold and dreary out, and the Big Brother Finale’s on so we’re torn about going and defer decision making until after our nap. The alarm clock goes off at 17:00. I open one eye. I’m feeling comfortable in the bed. Outside still looks cold and dreary. I mumble something to the effect of “We’re tired. It’s cold. We’ll get sick.”. We continue to nap. Around 7 we finally wake up, have a picnic on the bed, and settle in to watch the Big Brother finale. Sorry Minack Theatre.

Saturday
The alarm goes off at 7. Breakfast at the B&B is served from 8-9 (Janet has a farm to run in addition to feeding us!). We request for the full English breakfast which turns out to be quite the plateful – eggs, bacon, sausage, white pudding, mushrooms, tomatoes, hash browns, toast and tea. Perfect if you’ve got a busy day of strenuous farming ahead of you but we’ve only got lazing on the beach planned. Breakfast is served on one long dining table so we get to meet some of the other guests – a couple from Denmark (we visited Denmark just 2 weeks prior, one of the places we visited was the town in which they live) and a family from Wiltshire. We have a leisurely breakfast, chatting with our fellow guests. This is highly unusual for the Smalls as we’re usually quite sleepily antisocial first thing in the morning.

By 11:00 we’ve packed our picnic bag, blankies and towels and head out for our walk to Porthcurno beach. It was quite strange randomly wondering along the public footpath through other people’s paddocks and fields. We cross through several. At one point we lose sight of the footpath and get momentarily lost. We can see the tower of St Levan church (our point of reference) but can’t seem to find the final section of the footpath to get there. The path turns out to continue through someone’s back yard. Their back door is open and we can hear them at the breakfast table, so we try to slink by as quietly as possible. From St Levan church we head up the narrow road, and I mean narrow. Some of the streets in this area of Cornwall are barely the width of a small car. Drivers need to practice a high degree of courtesy. We’re finding country life a little strange. Open doors, friendly farmer families , courteous drivers. All quite stress-free, and this genial mood along with the fresh air (just the occasional whiff of cow poop) begin to impact the Smalls. It’s really quite relaxing.

View of Ardensawah B&B from across paddock, Cornwall roads



We get onto the South West coast path heading to Porthcurno. The views are amazing. Rocky cliffs. Vast blue ocean. Colourful flora. Little coves with white sandy beaches. We pass by the beach at Porthgawarra (accessible only by footpath), and are tempted to stop and settle in but decide to continue on to Porthcurno. Just before reaching Porthcurno beach we run into the Minack Theatre. The theatre is quite the peculiar venue. It was built mostly through the purpose and determination of one woman (Rowena Cade) over a period of many years. It is essentially carved into the cliff. Views from the theatre are absolutely spectacular. Dare I say I had a small twinge of regret for choosing Big Brother over Minack? There’s always next year I suppose.

Pothgawarra Beach and Minack Theatre



From Minack we head down the tiny steep path to Porthcurno beach (beware those who are afraid of heights!). We lay out our blanket, open a bottle of wine, and commence the chilling – making and eating of ham sandwich, drinking of wine, taking of long nap. Hmmm. The one downside it’s that it’s a little chilly and overcast, but we enjoy the soft sand, gentle breeze, and the clean seaside smell nevertheless. After our nap we sit around for a bit before slowly packing up to begin the trudge back to the B&B. When we arrive at the B&B we’re greeted by the Ardensawah dogs and geese. We stop to chat a little with Janet who’s just come from feeding the pigs. We’re starting to feel at home. And conversely starting to regret we leave the next day, and sorry we didn’t plan on staying longer.

Ed on narrow trail down to Portchurno,On Porthcurno Beach



For dinner we take a taxi to Sennen Cove. We dine at the Old Success Inn (founded 1691), and enjoy the tunes of a sawgrass band (in Cornwall!) before hopping back into a taxi back to the B&B. It’s been a good day.

Sunday
Again an early morning start. If anything earlier this morning, as this morning we need to pack and check out. We’re torn. Should we leave directly after breakfast and maybe stop by some towns along the way? Or take one more walk along the SW Coast path near the hotel? Outside looks the same cold and dreary. We haven’t been hungry since the breakfast the day before, so we opt for a lighter breakfast. Just toast for Ed, Just eggs, bacon and toast for me thank you (oink). We pack the car up. We settle our bill. We make a last minute decision to take the walk. Janet highly recommends it, and it’s only an hour circular walk. We have some time before we need to head out, and have no specific towns/sights to see anyway.

The walk begins down a lane towards the coast. We walk by a paddock with black and white spotted cows. I’m reminded of the Gary Larsen cartoons. For it’s as if we walked in when they were in the middle of intense intellectual conversation. They all look our way, and I swear they looked almost annoyed at being interrupted.

Cornwall Cows and Farmland



We continue along the path and enjoy the views of the countryside. As we near the coast, the hedges fall back and we’re suddenly out in the open, facing a vast field of colourful wild flowers, against the backdrop of the rugged coastline and clear blue ocean. It’s a stunning sight. As an additional treat, the sun begins to make an appearance. We continue along the path, stopping frequently to take in the views and take deep breaths of the clean crisp air, enjoying our solitude in this amazing place. We walk past one cove, over a ridge into another cove. As we trudge along, seemingly out of nowhere, a small secluded sandy white beach comes into view. It feels like a special chance discovery, almost like a surprise gift. A treat. The cherry on top of the cake. We savour the view, content that our short trip met and exceeded all our expectations, but a little sorry we can’t continue along the path. We’ll have to come back down at some point in the future for at least a week, and leave our footprints on several more paths along the southwest coast.

Wildflowers, Secluded beach


To view our complete set of pics from Cornwall, please visit the Smallzone Travel Page.