The Fat Duck

It’s official – I’m one year closer to my mid-30s.

Last year, I turned 32 surrounded by new friends in Australia on a press trip. It was quite amazing that we had three women with consecutive birthdays – Natalie on Nov. 23, Olivia on the 24^th and mine on the 25^th. It was besherit.

This year, I find myself with my fiancé having a once-in-a-lifetime experience at The Fat Duck, three-star Michelin molecular gastronomy restaurant in a Bray, essentially a Gastro-village.

It was a 14 course lunch spanning 4 ½ hours, but honestly, it was more like theatre. 

Moss and fog.

Owner Heston Blumenthal, who is in the midst of moving not only his staff of 55 at the Fat Duck, but in some cases, their families to Melbourne, Australia, to open another location, seems to have a childlike side that translates into his food.

In particular, the Jelly of Quail, Crayfish (truffle for me as I’m allergic to crustaceans) was parfait. Literally.

It was served with truffle toast, oak moss and chicken liver parfait. The server put down a wooden box full of astroturf in front of us and using a tea pot, poured water over it to create a rolling fog that spilled on to our table.

It was weird, a bit disconcerting, but really cool.

“Imagine you are taking a walk in a forest. Enjoy your walk,” she said.

Other items included the snail porridge, roast foie gras. Mike fawned over the “Umble pie,” deer, kale and root vegetables and the salmon poached in a liquorice gel with vanilla mayonnaise.

Umble pie.

Roasted foie gras.

Snail porridge.

Each dish had its own unique story, and many were interactive.

“Sound of the Sea” is a plate of tapioca, octopus and fish (forget what kind) served on a plate of glass box containing sand and souvenirs of a beach.

The server instructed us to put in the iPod earbuds and listen to the sound of the crashing ocean waves and the birds squawking.

I couldn’t get the taste of kelp out of my mouth, so I wasn’t particularly a fan.

Hearing aids.

The conch.

During “The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party” dish, we were presented with a portable cabinet of two gold watches, which our server dissolved in a transparent tea pot atop clear teacups. She told us to swirl the liquid until the watches blended in and then pour the concoction into the cup containing mock turtle soup and an egg. There were also Alice in Wonderland-like toast sandwiches accompanying the tea. Pretty wild.

Mad Hatter's Tea Party.

Tea sandwiches.

I was also a fan of the hot and iced tea – a thick lemon tea that was both warm and cool to the touch of the tongue. I could feel the cooler liquid slide down a little slower. Whenever I went to buffets with my family, the last thing I would always get at the serving station was a) a bowl of wonton soup  b) a scoop of ice cream.

I would take a spoonful of vanilla or chocolate ice cream and push it to one cheek and slurp a spoonful of piping hot soup in the other. I’m a weirdo, but I just really loved the sensation of two extremes at once.

Maybe that’s just a metaphor for my life.

Hot iced tea.

Thicker than tea.

And finally, let me tell you about the egg.

The eggs in Verjus.

The egg!

Cracked open.

It arrived on my plate as a beautiful brown egg, wrapped in edible gold foil nest. Cracking it open, I realized the shell was actually white chocolate and this delicious cream yolk. Paired with a sweet wine, it was a dessert I have never experienced before. No words. And I’m a writer.

It wasn’t a cheap experience, but a memorable one.

I actually don't mind getting older. I don't feel old at all – sometimes wiser, sometimes not. But I've done a lot of great things in my life so far, with more to come. I am surrounded by great friends, family, co-workers and loves. I used to think at 16 or 17 I'd be dead when I was 30, but now I see life really starts to feel like it gets rolling when you're my age. 

I'm excited for whatever adventures lie ahead.

Stepping out of that unmarked restaurant put us back into the cold, the rain, back into reality. It was much nicer in the bubble.

We’re currently on a train back to Paddington station in London and probably will pass out in a food coma when we get to Morden.

Creating bacon and egg ice cream.

Whisky gums.

The gazpacho is done.

Queen of Hearts.

Sweets.

Tube

It's been great exploring different areas of the city and after a few weeks, I've begun to get my bearings. Here are some Tube Stations I remember visiting this week.

Pimlico: On Friday, I got off at this stop to check out some thrift shops -- or as they call it here -- charity shops. Pimlico has a triangle of eight different stores, however, the fund of the day was definitely a book of "More Rude Food" for £2, a weird food photography book of nude women and various pastries and high-end dishes.
"Is that book for sale? The one with the naked women?" I asked the shopkeeper of McCad's photography.
"Young lady, everything's for sale," he responded.
And so, I became the proud owner of More Rude Food by David Thorpe. Mike asked when the book came out and coincidentally, it was Nov. 15, 1984 – the day after my purchase would be the book's 30th anniversary.

Victoria: Later, with a heavy cloth bag full of ingredients to make chili, and two bouquets of violet irises, I decided to take a walk to Buckingham Palace. I thought there would be more going on, but it looks like any other regal English building with traditional guards outside.

Morden: At home, I was excited to make us a batch of Canadian chili. The slow cooker from Argos (the U.K.'s Consumers Distributing) arrived that day and we tossed in leftover pulled pork, browned organic ground beef and bacon strips from the local butcher shop. Apple juice, Dr. Pepper, tomato chunks, kidney beans, beef soup stock. Lots of jkspices -- paprika, cayenne, steak spice, salt, pepper, hint of lime.
About 15 hours later, it reduced into a nice, smoky chili.
Have to say it was a lot of fun cooking and having Thomas sit on a chair in the kitchen, hanging out and reading the Argos catalogue.

Saturday, we learned several Tube lines were down for maintenance, including the red Central line, which affected where we needed to get to.

Clapham North > Clamham Junction (overground) > Kensington (Olympia): We arrived at Olympia after a call to Green Tomatoes, a cheap and reliable car service that provides WiFi in its fleet, for Hyper Japan -- an epileptic episode of all things super cute.
There were a few Cosplay people, but a lot of the focus was on food and sweets.
And oddly, a booth that sold a copy of Big Tits Zombie. When in Japan...

Oxford Circus: Thomas went to meet up with friends to see Arnold Schwarzenegger speak at a hotel near Notting Hill while I met up with my friend Kevin at Oxford Circus for a coffee.
There was a PETA protest outside United Colors of Benetton over fur -- I think the demonstrators just enjoyed using megaphones and shouting at employees.

Notting Hill Gate: Met some of Thomas' friends – hip, swinging Londoners at a local Italian restaurant Zizzi. There was a French bulldog in a pub for some reason. And also, a sign outside that said "Low Trees," which confused me.
"It's not for you," said one of Thomas' friends.
"You never know!" I responded.
(They were for buses, probably.)

Waterloo: Sunday, we went to South Bank to see the World Press Photo exhibit.
There were a bloody photo taken by a Boston Globe photographer, moments after the Boston bombing that struck me. Nearby, was the Tate Modern, however our search for a sliced Damien Hirst shark or cow came up fruitless. I did see an original Francis Bacon, though. And lots of other pieces of weird art, including molten lava in a corner.

Baker Street: It was more of an interchange station for us, but the art is cool on the platform. It's the home of Sherlock Holmes.

Hammersmith: We then hopped on the Tube to Hammersmith and found the memorial devoted to Rik Mayall, the British comedian who died in the summer from heart failure at the age of 51.
I grew up watching Mayall in The Young Ones, an off-beat British comedy YTV used to show late at night about four mismatched college roommates – a people's poet, a womanizer, a punk and a hippie.
But it was much quirkier than that. I loved it.
Drop Dead Fred was a campy movie of mine (and underrated in my opinion, with small roles by Carrie Fisher and Bridget Fonda).
YTV would also show episodes of Bottom, a more mature comedy starring two Young Ones stars – Mayall and Ade Edmondson – significantly older.
The famous bench in the intro credits of Bottom where Mayall punches Edmondson in the balls is now the memorial in the medium near Hammersmith Tube.
Occupied by posters and gifts from fans, a small golden plaque is screwed near the top of the bench. "In memory of the man, the myth, the legend."
We got to see Edmondson perform in the play Neville's Island a few weeks ago, so it all comes full circle. Things I have been waiting to see in real life since I was 14.

South Kensington: Shortly after our stop there, we headed to Royal Albert Hall, near the Natural History Museum, to see Damon Albarn, the ex-frontman of Blur.
The show was incredible.
I have been to hundreds of concerts since I was a teenager and tonight's Damon Albarn show was among the best shows I've ever seen. If you look carefully, there are some 25 people on stage that performed with him throughout the night. Among them: De La Soul, Brian Eno, Graham Coxon, the gospel choir near Albarn's home in Leytonstone (NE London).
They played Gorillaz and Blur songs, thought I'd never hear "Tender" sung live. Abbey Road also allowed concert goers to buy a CD recording of tonight's show immediately available after the final song. Amazing! What a treat and such a special night in a historic and beautiful venue.

Camden Town: It's now Tuesday and we're returning home from a Deltron 3030 show at Electric Ballroom in Camden.
Dan the Automator, Del the Funky Homosapien and co. always put on a great show. We've been really lucky to see the puzzle pieces of Gorillaz this week with Albarn and Deltron.
We heard two versions of "Clint Eastwood" in London just two days apart -- the song we never hear for years live. We are lucky.

Other things:

Old Street: Shoreditch is a hipster haven. I saw they are holding a movie festival where it's BYOP (bring your own pillow) to watch a movie in a warehouse floor, perhaps in a puppy pile. The Hoxton, the area's Drake Hotel equivalent, has a lovely fireplace, though. And you can rent out one of the hotel's main floor flats.

Angel: Full of realtors selling flats way the fuck out of my price range. Nice little coffee shops and antique alleyway. We saw a guy from the HBO series Rome having a smoke outside one of these posh coffee shops. I never watched the show, but I'm sure he was probably a big deal.

King's Cross: The British Library has an event on now about Gothic. It's worth your £10 to see the revisions in red marker to Stephen King's Shining by Stanley Kubrick. There's also some annotations by Clive Barker of his Hellraiser movie.

Euston: Down the street, the Wellcome Collection has an "Institute of Sexology" exhibit that opens up on Nov. 20, which looks pretty interesting. They have another exhibit on the human body now. Lots of roots in psychology in this museum, which gets me giddy.

Russell Square: Passed by the Royal National Hotel Javiss and I stayed in during our London jaunt in 2010. Brought back memories of the bedroom lights that made a clunking noise when they started up. Also down the street from Bloomsbury Lanes, a hip bowling alley. 
The 3 Mobile phone store I had to go to because my 3G offhandedly decided to stop working. They gave me a replacement SIM card and told me it would work in 24 hours, maybe. I really like London, but there are so many inefficiencies. Things are just broken and people shrug their shoulders because "that's how things are." It's bizarre. Instead of finding solutions or anticipating problems, it's just a shrug. I saw it the other night on the Tube when it broke down at Kennington Station after the Damon Albarn show.

Kennington: Speaking of which...
Travelled on a steamy and packed all-night bus to Mordor. The Tube broke down at Kennington station and passengers sat there for 45 mins. with barely any updates. Some angry passengers exited on to the platform after that time and shouted to the driver, "What's going on?" The driver nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders.
Irate commuters, including us, left the station and waited for the next bus.
One guy offered people at the stop Twix chocolate bars.
"The system fucked us tonight. We're all in this together," he said.
Everyone laughed.
That's the unique love that can evolve from broken-down transit -- a bonding via lynch mob mentality.

 
Tottenham Court Road: Ippudo London, a great ramen restaurant I ate at in New York City, has opened up a branch across the pond. Still wonderful with its pork belly buns and perfect and reasonably-prices ramen. Black sesame ice cream, oh my.
Also nearby is the Smoking Goat, a new 20-seat nook serving Thai barbecue. Order the pork and oysters. Perfect. Beware the accompanying side saucy. She's a spicy meatball.

Camden Town: London Zoo. Winter hours mean the final admission is at 3 p.m. and the zoo closes at 4. We made it with five minutes to spare and powered through it.
Penguins swimming, New Zealand pigs in heat fighting? Check. Gorilla eating a stem of broccoli? Yep.
Toronto's zoo is much more widespread, but the London Zoo is definitely worth a few hours of your time. Plus, it's another filming location of An American Werewolf in London.

Seaside Town

Brighton.
I fell in love with the southern seaside town.
The National Railway train departing Victoria station arrived quicker in Brighton than I had anticipated. I had hoped for landscapes of rolling green hills of the U.K., but the sun sets early these days. Around 4 p.m. dusk sets in and in an blink of the eye, we'd arrived.
A brilliant cabbie told us to visit the pier, The Lanes -- a series of nook and cranny cobblestone alleyways -- and a few known local restaurants. Cabbies have the best recommendations because they tend to know what's good and what's shit.
Despite the howling winds and pelting raindrops we braced the environment and ventured to dinner at a pho restaurant, which is the perfect medicine for inclement weather.

Pho for bad weather.

I'm slowly getting used to the rain England brings. Home to episodes of Qi with Stephen Fry and Top Gear.
The next day, however, it was all sun and warmth. Perfect.
We began our adventure along the seaside. Thomas and I stood in the uneven rocks and took a moment to breathe in the sea salt air. The waves were choppy, but the breeze was gentle.

"20p for a view? Inflation!"

Beneath the pier walkway were these quirky independent shops -- one a glass blowing business that make those lit up carnival signs regularly seen in hipster coffee shops.
"There's a science to it," said the artist, as he took an open flame to the fluorescent bulb.
Beside it was an art gallery carrying different local painters. Lots of pieces showed Fatboy Slim aka Norman Cook -- some autographed -- as he often DJs at Brighton Beach.
Very cool.

We walked along Brighton Pier, a historic location that opened in 1899, and is now the home of a low-budget carnival, but not one lacking charm.
At the time, it cost a record £27,000 to build. There was also a rival western pier, but closed in 1975 and was subsequently severely damaged by fires and storms. What was left of the iron structure was partially demolished in 2010.
Strangely enough, there is a fish and chips place whose ads boast is a "national treasure" by Michelin restaurateur Heston Blumenfeld.
Random.

Heston Blumenthal recommended spot on Brighton Pier.

The gulls on the pier are huge. They are definitely superior in size to the ones in Ontario but could put up a fight with the ones I've seen in San Francisco. I once saw a seagull at Pier 8 at SF swoop down and thieve a bread bowl of clam chowder from some poor schmuck. That's how brazen these birds are.
Brighton's gulls, in contrast, seem to be more concerned with posing for Instagram shots. Really, they are.

"Supermodel, work."

From there, we explored the Lanes, little shops here and there before arriving at the aquarium.
If you get a chance to see the Sea Life Aquarium, I highly recommend it. It remains housed in its original Victorian-era building and has many large tanks of some of the coolest stingrays I've seen. They literally looked like they were flying and gliding, not swimming, through the water.
But the key feature of the attraction is this indoor tunnel that stretches above your head so that you see giant tortoises, sharks and other sea creatures move overhead. When there are no other people around, a sit on the bench inside the tunnel is the most relaxing thing.

The overhead view

Do you see Jesus or some weird face among the piranhas?

We also went out for cream tea -- afternoon tea with scones with clotted cream -- delicious, unpasteurized rich butter -- and jam. The tea was lapsang souchong, a smoky black blend.
It was very dainty, very English, and I enjoyed every moment of it.

Scone with clotted cream

Brighton is also home to a great Art Deco museum and adjacent to it, an Indian-inspired pavilion that has a skating rink in it. The night before, we saw a poor guy tripped and go face first into the ice and the medic later went out to scrape out the blood from the ice.
Thomas shuddered. Having lived through the trauma of being hit by a car when he was younger, he was cautious about injuries. But he stepped out of his comfort level for a bit and we did a few laps around, with Ricky Martin or whatever that was on Heart FM playing in the background. No blood on the ice-floor.

Penguins for non-skaters at the pavillion

Near the pavilion was our dinner spot -- Very Italian Pizza, known in Brighton for good and cheap wood oven pizzas. When we arrived there was a kid who had passed out on the table. Done.
On display at the front of house were those Italian cakes, I forget the name, but my dad who used to work at La Spiga, an Italian restaurant in Aurora, would bring home every Christmas.
Thomas said his father, who worked in Italy on a film years ago, would send a bunch of the same cakes home.
"We're they the driest things? Wow," he said.

Ah-pizza!

Our trails took us to Primark (like a Winners without the good stuff) where I found a little inappropriate but cost-efficient souvenir for Ernest. (I know you can't wait for it, Ernest).
Then I couldn't sleep.
In the hotel room, I saw a bathrobe drop by itself. Then the TV turned itself on again. And then an hour, it happened again.
My superstitious reflex automatically concluded: Ghosts.
Where was my goddamn eight-sided mirror when I needed it most?
So at 3:22 a.m. when I heard what sounded like gunfire or fireworks -- continuous pop-pop-pops -- I freaked out. And couldn't get back to sleep until 5 a.m.
I Googled, "Why does my TV turn itself on" and reasoned it was something to do with a power surge, that the hotel system means TVs are never truly off, but on stand-by.
Next morning, the power was out at the place, apparently it was also out next door. Something about the grid.
Yep, felt like a loser being so scared of ghosts.
Mike said, "Weird you're not religious but believe in ghosts."
"I believe in horror movies! That's my religion!"
Colder and windier that day. We passed by a Banksy piece and some old-timey pubs that were tiled on the outside like NYC or London subway stations.
Our final meal was at Riddle & Finns, where we saw national celebrity Pudsey the Bear collecting money for children in need right outside the door.
It's a cutesy yellow bear with a rainbow polka-dot bandage over his eye. Of course, a photo was required.

Pudsey

Had a lovely Dover sole with duck fat potatoes and green beans. So simple, so good. It was definitely one of my favourite meals so far in the U.K.

Dover sole

Dover bones

Brighton is a mix of university town and hipness. It's the Portlandia of London. But lots of great little vintage shops in the Lanes, a cinema with legs coming out from the roof and overall pretty nice people.
Would definitely come back.
Brighton lights, smaller city.

Alf!

The Colonnade, an old-timey bar

The Lanes