White knuckled fists gripped my stomach. I awoke with groans and rumblings. But my memories of Jamie's Italian are completely pleasurable. Breakfast was almost forgotten because of the sheer quantity eaten last night.
Antipasto starter balanced on tomato tins filled the table's centre. Crusty breads dripping with sweet olive oil and balsamic along with large-creamy-fresh-green olives. Order something simple I repeat to myself and order a burger. Amazing tower of freshness and delicious flavours, I almost couldn't finish it, but determined to enjoy the last morsel I forced those last few bites. Dessert was more confusing, each option screamed to be chosen. But when the chocolate brownie arrived it was the envy of the table. Warm and moist, a crunchy amaretto dusted crust accompanied by bourbon vanilla ice cream.
Excellent.
Thursday, 22 July 2010
Thursday, 15 July 2010
So how are you really doing?
Since living in London, I have answered that question in a variety of ways: just fine, very well, enjoying it. So here's the whole truth.
Tonight I had a long bath. I read a book. I watched TV. In my home with frames and doors that hang at a slant, an inconsequential fireplace, windows that don't open and somewhat imperfectly finished.
Living in East London is mostly delightful, with cosmopolitan inhabitants, I'm always inhaling the sweet, spicy and fragrant, bubbling cooking. Although parks are few, they are well tended, especially suited to young children (of which I have none). There is a wealth of transport, buses on my doorstep (next street) and tube lines are in abundance (our favourite District Line is continually down).
Gazing at the sculptures and paintings at Tate Modern, exploring shopping wonders in Oxford Street, being part of the vibe in Hyde Park or visiting Greenwich and ferrying to London Eye never tires me. Central London has so much to offer that I soak in as much as possible as often as possible.
My pick of international airports Gatwick, Heathrow, Stansted, London City and Luton are at the ready to flutter me off to my next destination. I am looking forward to Greece and Italy...
Fault finding reminds me that going home to Australia is imminent but enjoying all the wonders is absolutely essential.
Tonight I had a long bath. I read a book. I watched TV. In my home with frames and doors that hang at a slant, an inconsequential fireplace, windows that don't open and somewhat imperfectly finished.
Living in East London is mostly delightful, with cosmopolitan inhabitants, I'm always inhaling the sweet, spicy and fragrant, bubbling cooking. Although parks are few, they are well tended, especially suited to young children (of which I have none). There is a wealth of transport, buses on my doorstep (next street) and tube lines are in abundance (our favourite District Line is continually down).
Gazing at the sculptures and paintings at Tate Modern, exploring shopping wonders in Oxford Street, being part of the vibe in Hyde Park or visiting Greenwich and ferrying to London Eye never tires me. Central London has so much to offer that I soak in as much as possible as often as possible.
My pick of international airports Gatwick, Heathrow, Stansted, London City and Luton are at the ready to flutter me off to my next destination. I am looking forward to Greece and Italy...
Fault finding reminds me that going home to Australia is imminent but enjoying all the wonders is absolutely essential.
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
Growers Market in London
Fresh, raw milk, in its creamy, silky natural state. Thick globs of pure cream floats on my coffee and my five year-old self calling it icecream - so terribly naughty and wonderful. Freshly baked carrot cake and crispy crunchy organic apples.
Friendly faces and lovely, clean, pure air swirls around me as I walk through Marylebone Grower's Market. "I can choose my own eggs?" I ask the vendor, dumbfounded, and smile as I reach to choose gorgeous farm fresh chicken eggs and load my egg boxes. I go back for a second helping to the stall of baked items, then green salad items, watercress and spinach, aubergine, rosemary, leek, cucumber: grocery items deluxe.
I convince my husband to return with me every Sunday after that... I cannot imagine buying these items from a supermarket with its bright florescent lighting and isles of processed, packaged, chemically enhanced goods with it's magnitude of plastic, tin, cardboard and paper that will empty into my trash...
Friendly faces and lovely, clean, pure air swirls around me as I walk through Marylebone Grower's Market. "I can choose my own eggs?" I ask the vendor, dumbfounded, and smile as I reach to choose gorgeous farm fresh chicken eggs and load my egg boxes. I go back for a second helping to the stall of baked items, then green salad items, watercress and spinach, aubergine, rosemary, leek, cucumber: grocery items deluxe.
I convince my husband to return with me every Sunday after that... I cannot imagine buying these items from a supermarket with its bright florescent lighting and isles of processed, packaged, chemically enhanced goods with it's magnitude of plastic, tin, cardboard and paper that will empty into my trash...
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