Scotland

Last weekend I went to Scotland on a trip planned by LSE.  Overall, Scotland was amazing, but the trip was kind of a bust.  We took the train up on Friday morning, passing the British Midlands countryside before following the coast.  Beautiful.  Once in Edinburg we met our tour guide, who was one of a kind.  He had long curly brown hair worn down, dimples, and spent the entire weekend in a knee-length green kilt (props to him) topped with a hoodie and finished off with wool socks bunched up to mid-calf and very sturdy hiking boots.

Edinburg was amazingly beautiful.  The city is split in two; old town, with its windy streets, cobblestone roads, closes, surprise squares, and buildings (including the castle and palace) that are hundreds of years old.  New Town was build in the 1700's after Old Town became too dirty and too stinky for the wealthy to bear.  Its well planned on a grid system, with rows of stone buildings and lots of shops and pubs.  We got to explore Edinburg on Friday afternoon and evening, and spent much of it walking up and down the mile long principle street.  It was rainy and chilly, but still beautiful.  As we were walking over the bridge from old town to new town, the sun began to set, and a rainbow came out, almost simultaneously.   It was absolutely Beautiful; I really wish we spent more time there.  But, alas, after dinner in an Italian restaurant, a few drinks in an Scottish pub (where for some unexplainable reason, my friends got the live musician to dedicate  Mrs. Robinson (is that what its called) to me (I have never robbed the cradle, so I'm not entirely sure why)), we made out way back to the Hostel to catch a few hours of sleep before the Highlands tour began the following day.

The hostel was nice for a hostel, but by an afar, the single reason why this particular hostel experience was far superior to any past hostel experience was their amazing, incredible, (as Kenyon says, even better than good sex) shower.  Our room was in the basement, and the shower had better water pressure than your average water fall.  All 30 minutes of the time I spent in it were amazing.  The following morning we woke up early, then shuffled as a group of 40 onto a tour bus.  Although I like doing touristy things, and going to places as a tourist, one of my least favorite things in life is feeling like a tourists.  After living in DC, and now in London, I find tourists annoying.  They get in the way, move in packs, walk incredibly slowly, and don't know the rules of the city (where to stand on the metro escalator is a big one).  So by default, spending my trip on a tour bus with 39 other people and a tour guide dressed in a Kilt (despite what people may think, kilts are not normal attire in Modern Scotland), was not exactly amazing.  But, as we headed into the highlands, the amazing scenery partially made up for the circumstance.

After a few hours on the bus we stopped to see what apparently is a major tourist attraction, the  Scottish Hairy Koo, a GIANT, very furry (the name is quite discriptive) cow of the species that the Scottish Highlanders relied on to make a living for hundreds of years.  This particular one was quite friendly.  You could buy packets of food to feed him, and if you put a carrot in your mouth, he would give you a big kiss (not unsurprisingly, several of our group did- thats Kenyon going in for a kiss in the picture above).  He was cute, and was definitely covered completely with long curly hair.  In fact, he kind of reminded me of our tour guide.  The second major stop of the day was as Loch Ness.  After briefly looking for the Loch Ness Monster, we were given a Scottish history lesson and taught how to put on a kilt inside of a traditional scottish black house (what their houses were called because, due to the fact that 20 people lived in one and there was no chimney, the whole house was covered in black ash, dirt, and soot).  After the demonstration, we went as a group down to the water.  Loch Ness is famous for its monster, but even without a monster siting it was absolutely beautiful.  Plus, a few people from the group jumped in (its about 5 degrees celsius), which was definitely entertaining.

The rest of the day was spent on the bus.  It was rainy outside, which, because of the rain drops on the windows, made it hard to take pictures from the bus.  The rain made the Highlands absolutely stunning.  I really, really, really want to go back and hike.
After spending the night in Inverness, the largest city in the Highlands, we got back on the bus and drove out of the highlands to Blair Castle.  Blair Castle is the seat of the Murray Clan, which, even though either it isn't the same clan, or we are about 35 generations removed, was kind of cool to see because one of my Mom's family names is Murray.  After Blair Castle, we got back on the bus, and drove back into Edinburg, where we caught a bus to Newcastle, a train to London, and a bus from Kings Cross Station to home.  Scotland is beautiful, and I really, really, really want to go back.  But, next time it will be with a small group of hiking friends to experience Scotland how it should be experienced- slowly, and on foot.

My Trip to Scotland

Tomorrow morning I'm off to Scotland with LSE!  We will spend 2 days in Edinburg and 1 day in the Highlands!  SOOOOOO excited!  Supposedly the tour guide wears a kilt and plays the bagpipes!

Eddie Izzard

Refuge Des Fondus

On my second night in Paris, Jana, her boyfriend Nassim (he's french, oh la la), and I went out to a dinner that can only be classified as an experience.  The restaurant, called Refuge Des Fondus, is situated on the hilly rue des Trois-Frères  in Montmarte, the red light district of Paris.  The experience begins from the moment you reach the door.  The window is largely taken up by a giant painted clown lifting a barbel made of cheese.  The door knob is a golden baby bottle, a preview of what is to come.  

When you step inside the door (which takes a surprising amount of strength to open, you are more than likely to be ushered back out in loud french complemented by hand gestures, by the lone waiter, dressed in an iron maiden shirt and scruffy jeans, to wait outside until a spot frees up.  

The restaurant is tiny, and the walls and ceilings are covered with graffiti and signatures from patrons over the years.  Its about 100 degrees. Tables are set in two long lines.  Half of the diners sit on benches along the wall, while the other half sit on a hodge-podge mixture of stools and wicker chairs.  Once allowed in, the waiter insisits that you deposit all belongings on pegs near the kitchen.  The dining room is too small to keep purses, jackets, etc. with you.  After unloading, I was advised by Jana to visit the bathroom before sitting, as it is very hard to get up once the meal has begun.  The toilet seat was bright yellow, and had pictures of cheese on it.  But the true experience begins with the task of sitting down.  Those who the waiter chooses to sit on the benches (me) must climb onto a stool, straddle the table (which is laden with fondu pots, cocktail glasses, and baby bottles (for wine, hence the door handle), then scoot down into the bench (not an easy task when the space between the table and the bench top is about a foot).  Once everyone is situated the waiter delivers a plate of hors d'oeuvres and mini cocktails.  

Wine in baby bottles (yes, the ones for babies with nipples and everything), and the fondu pot with bread pieces soon follows.  As the night progresses, the wine flows, and the cheese pots empty, the waiter gets more and more ridiculous.  At the end of the night, Jana and I added out own graffiti.  Its fabulous.  Go. 

Paris!

Today I'm going to paris to visit Jana!

Ratatouille

On Saturday night, after a day of roaming around Camden Market I decided to use the bounty of my market trip (lots of fresh veggies) to make a batch of hot, spicy, delicious ratatouille.  Not only is Ratatouille one of the best animated movies ever made, it is also one of the best vegetable stews around.  The ingredients vary from attempt to attempt- originally ratatouille was a dish favored by French peasants, who essentially stewed together the contents of their gardens with some spice to add variety.  I follow the same theory, adding what ever vegetables are available and fresh.  But, here is a basic recipe to build from:

Ratatouille

olive oil

3 cloves garlic

1 red or yellow onion (large)

2 large zucchini (called courgettes in the UK)

1 yellow zucchini

1 eggplant (aubergine in the UK)

6-8 tomatoes

1 hot pepper

large bunch of basil

lemon juice

rosemary

thyme

3 bay leaves

1 can anchovies

salt

1. Mince garlic, and heat with olive oil in a large wok or soup pot over medium heat until you begin to smell it.

2. Slice onion into half rings (rings cut in half), and add to garlic and olive oil.  Allow to cook for 2-3 minutes

3. Slice zucchini and yellow zucchini into thin rounds and add to the mixture cooking.  Also loosely dice the eggplant, and add. Cook for 3-5 minutes, stirring every few seconds

4. Take the stems out of the tomatoes, then break the tomatoes into chunky pieces using your hands, adding to the mixture while you go along.

5. Cut anchovies into 1 cm pieces, and add to the mixture.

6. Dice hot pepper, and add.

7. Juice one lemon, and add.

8. Add bay leaves and other spices, mixing well

9.  Let simmer on low heat until the tomatoes break down, and it begins to look more like chunky stew.  About 25 minutes.

10. Turn off the heat and stir in the basil.

11. Serve with yummy crusty bread

A Post-Fire Alarm French Toast Breakfast

This morning Sidney Webb had its first fire alarm- at 10:00 AM on a Sunday morning.  Under normal circumstances, fire alarms at 10:00 AM on weekends are not fun, but last night was a particularly late night, so this specific Sunday morning fire alarm bordered on excruciating.  To make myself feel better, I convinced my friend and cooking buddy Martin to make Ruth (another new friend) and I french toast.  It was yummy.  Mine had a smiley face in bananas on it.  So that all of you can also make french toast on this not-so-lovely Sunday morning, here is the recipe:

French Toast

3 eggs

2 tablespoons milk

pinch cinnamon

pinch nutmeg

pinch salt

6 pieces of bread

butter

real maple syrup (preferably from Vermont)

nutella

1. Mix together eggs, milk, cinnamon nutmeg, salt in a bowl.  Blend well with a fork

2. Soak both sides of the bread in this milk-egg-spices mixture

3. Heat a skillet and melt a bit of butter to coat the bottom, make sure that it is hot enough to effectively fry the bread

4. Place a piece of bread into the skillet, flip after a few minutes.

5. Serve with bananas on top, a bit of nutella, and maple syrup.  Ideally the syrup should be Vermont syrup, although I could only find Quebec syrup- it was almost as good but not quite.

6. Enjoy. Its delicious

The Neighborhood Pub

On the LSE pubcrawl last week we went to a few pubs that were right in my neighborhood.  Tonight some friends and I went back to one of them after getting donar kebobs on Southwark Street.  The pub, called The Thameside Inn, is, as the name alludes, right on the Thames near southern bank of the London Bridge.  The front door is also about 15 feet from the water berth that houses the full-size replica of Sir Francis Drake's ship, The Golden Hinde.  Outside and in, it is a classic English pub.  They had 10-odd beers on tap, lots of dark wood, and comfy padded booths, chandeliers, and a nice, quiet atmosphere.

On Friday night, after describing my dislike of excessive hops (the stuff that makes beer bitter) to a bartender in a pub near Covent Garden, I learned that there is a whole category of beer without too much hops, lager.  Ever since (on Saturday night and today), I have been exploring this newfound category (although as of yet, i've only tried two).   Tonight I tried Kronenbourg 1664, a yummy French lager with less fizzyness and a bit more flavor than other beers I've tried.  Apparently it is the number 1 selling french beer, and the UK's second biggest premium selling lager, what ever that means.  Regardless, when combined with the lovely atmosphere of the pub and the fun people I was with (yes, cheesy), it was quite delicious. 

The Borough Market

This friday morning I spent an hour or so meandering through the Borough Market, the oldest market in London.  The borough market is located at the base of the London Bridge.  Until the 18th century London Bridge was the only link between London and the rest of South East England and the rest of the continent. Because of the huge number of travelers flowing through Southwark (the town, and now neighborhood just south of the London Bridge) the borough quickly gained wealth and prominence, and the Borough market was formed.  The first incarnation of the market was first documented in 1014, and a market selling fresh grain, meat, fruits, and vegetables has existed in the area ever since.  In 1755 the market moved to its current location in a triangular block a few hundred meters from the bridge's southern bank.  In the early 1800's, the market was fully covered with an iron frame and glass covering, complete with twin arches and a dome.   The market continues to this day in that same building, with much the same format as markets in centuries past.  On this particular friday morning, it wasn't too busy.  Tourists mingled through the market, looking at the expensive organic vegetables, fresh fish, home baked pastries, and local cheese.  I bought a tuna steak caught the day before, and some fresh local nectarines.  In the center of the market a chef stirred a gigantic wok full of chicken curry that smelled delicious.  Overall it was charming, although the prices make it more of a looking than buying experience.

The London Eye

Last night LSE sponsored a trip to the London Eye followed by a pub crawl and tour along the south bank (ending right near my dorm, Sidney Webb!).  It was amazing.  The London Eye trip started right at dusk, and as the ferris wheel turned throughout the 40 minute rotation, it went from blue sky to sunset to night, so we got to see downtown london in three different lights.  It was beautiful, you could see the houses of parliament, Big Ben (which just refers to the bells, not the clock, as I learned during the pub crawl and south bank tour/pub crawl), the aquarium (which was all lit up in red and green), Saint Paul cathedral, and all of the other beautiful buildings that are in central london.  I will post more photos later, I have to wait to steal them off of other people's facebook pages until my camera comes in a few days.

Blueberry Withdrawl

Anyone who knows me well is very aware of my addiction/love of blueberries.  On an average summer day I will consume anywhere from 1-3 pounds of blueberries. Nate Schuur thinks this is ridiculous.  From late May until August blueberries become my meal of choice, typically either replacing or seriously supplementing all breakfast and dinner foods, and sometimes lunch as well.  Often I end the day with a bowl of blueberries as dessert.  I love blueberries.  They are my favorite food, and if I were stranded on a desert island and had to pick only one food to eat for every meal for the rest of my life I would hands down choose blueberries.  My dad often jokes that it is a medical miracle that I haven't turned blue.  That said, I am now going through blueberry withdrawal.  It has been 2 weeks to the day since I last had a blueberry.  I have scoured central london (I tried 5 different fruit stands) to find blueberries, only to find one source for my blueberry fix, but that one source was too expensive to justify the expense (until I get a bank account).  So I have gone without blueberries.  Its tragic.