Vegan Britain, part 2
After lunch with Hana, I met Seanan at Kings Cross and we took the train to Brighton for a five o'clock dip in the ocean (brrrrrrrrrr!) 
Then we met up with Sam for coffee followed by dinner and drinks at the Prince George, which has an all-vegetarian pub menu. YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Really good food, too. Sam says the standard is very high in Brighton; you won't find half-hearted pub grub anywhere, because a pub has to keep up with its competitors or it can't stay open. 
I'm looking forward to spending more time in Brighton on my next visit to the U.K.—it seems like a really fun and funky place (with, um, lots of pretty dress shops—which, again, were mercifully not open.) 
Let me tell you what an awesome friend Seanan is. While we were planning my visit, he said he had a few surprises and wanted to make a whole day out of them—“surprises" as in, I had absolutely no idea where we were going or what we were doing. Proper secrets!So we were walking in the Mayfair neighborhood, and when Seanan turned into the lobby of a posh hotel I thought he was joking. Turns out he'd made a reservation for high tea, with a vegan version for me! Apparently there is such a thing, though he'd had to ring several places before Flemings said they could accommodate us. Hooray for Flemings! 
Those of you who've had the experience of a proper English tea might be wondering if it measured up. Having had a "real" high tea at a cute country pub in Winchcombe during our Cotswolds trip, I can say that it did. I didn't miss the clotted cream one bit. The sandwiches had sunflower spread, the scones were of "I can't believe it's vegan" quality (you know how I champion vegan bakery, but it is hard to do things like scones well!), and the desserts were scrummy—a chocolate brownie, mocha cake, and a ginger cookie. Oh, and you should have seen the tea menu! It took me ages to make up my mind. (I settled on assam.) 
Next time: two days in Edinburgh!
Vegan Britain 2014
From Cork I flew to London for four perfect days with Seanan. Deirdre happened to be passing through from Cambridge on her way to Belarus (random!), so the three of us had a lovely relaxed Easter Sunday bruncheon at Drink, Shop & Do. The vegetable curry hit the spot and the pineapple pumpkin coconut cake was just as amazing as it sounds. See what I mean about never "depriving" myself? 
I was really psyched to find a whole bay of vegan lifestyle and cookbooks at Foyles, including Vegan for Her, co-authored by fellow MSVA graduate J.L. Fields. 
I bet some of you guys suspect I go overboard praising vegan restaurants just because they're vegan, and if you do, I'm about to prove you wrong. 
I wanted to love Vantra, I really did—and you'd think it has the perfect set up, with a chill atmosphere, a HUGE and delightfully varied buffet, and a drool-worthy juice and smoothie menu. Unfortunately the buffet options I sampled (for all its eye-catching color) were on the bland side apart from one dish (the Moroccan chickpea stew between 12 and 1 o'clock), the smoothie guy forgot my order and I had to keep asking for it (when people who arrived after I did received their drinks rather quickly), and when it did finally arrive midway through the meal it was even more tasteless than the food. I thought of taking it back and asking for what were probably missing ingredients, and I guess I should have. I'm too embarrassed to admit how much I paid for this mediocre lunch.Ick—sometimes I really don't enjoy being honest. So now back to your regularly scheduled dose of AWESOME. 
And I'll tell you what is awesome: getting to know my lovely Penguin UK editor, Hana Osman, over a marvelous meal at The Gate, a vegetarian restaurant in Islington (with another location in Hammersmith). Seanan had spoiled me with a deluxe breakfast that morning (granola with almond milk, crumpets with sunflower spread, grapefruit, orange juice and tea), so I opted for two appetizers—potato and leek soup (above; I know it looks like sweet potato or butternut squash, I'm not sure which spice they used to turn the soup orange, but it was delicious) and a courgette flower stuffed with sweet potato (say it with me: courzhhhhette. So satisfying. I almost wish I were English just so I could get away with saying "aubergine" and "courgette.") 
Dainty and fun, and a happy combo of yummy and healthy. I hadn't had courgette (erm, zucchini) flowers since Harmony Homestead Farm! [And in case you recall the zucchini blossom fritter recipe I posted back in 2010, I've taken it down until I can veganize it.]And dessert? OHHHHHHHHHH: 
Fruit trifle with vegan sherry cream. O YES. It was gorgeous. Next time: Brighton for the evening and vegan high tea!
Back to London
Through the shop window at Hope & Greenwood. Diarmuid likes to think of it as the magical sweet shop that only appears once a century--which, fortunately for all us sweet-toothed non-fairy folk, is only a fancy.
And speaking of Diarmuid and fairy creatures (the author, that is), I was delighted to find this marvelous book on display in the side window at Foyle's:
Kate and I arrived around lunchtime (on March 19th), so we met up with Seanan on his break at Foyle's and then went to the National Gallery for the afternoon. The next morning (our only full day in London) we had a big yummy breakfast in view of Tower Bridge, and then did the tour at the Tower of London.
Stealth shot! Seanan hates having his picture taken, but Kate managed to capture him on film (hmm, I guess that's a figure of speech now).
Then we met up with our cousin, Kate Scherer, for dinner. Kate S.'s grandmother Mary was our grandmother Dorothy's sister (you can see a portrait of all five sisters here). We had never met in person before, and as I explained the relationship to my Kate, 'This is like your granddaughter and my granddaughter getting together for dinner.' Once I'd put it that way we were even more excited to meet her.
It was a really nice way to end the trip!
24 Hours in Oxford
(Day 1; day 2; day 3; day 4 of our Wiltshire walking trip.)
From Bishopstone, we caught a local bus to Swindon and then a double-decker to Oxford, where (first things first!) we had a buffet lunch at an Indian restaurant called 4500 miles from Delhi--which was kind of funny seeing as I was going to make that trip (albeit not to Delhi) just a few weeks later. It was a drizzly day and Kate's foot was kind of bothering her, but we really wanted to do a walking tour around some of the different colleges, and we were really glad we did. There was so much to see: the ornate chapels at each college, stained glass and tapestries and royal portraits, the perfectly manicured greens, stunning architecture and sculpture everywhere you looked. And the gargoyles!
The cloisters at New College, which appears in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
Our guide told us the Harry Potter dining hall scenes were filmed here at Christ Church (and then CGI'd up the wazoo; my words, not his), but according to one student's blog the movie people only modeled the set after this room, which makes more sense I suppose.
Hertford Bridge. The sun came out right after we finished the tour.
University Church of St. Mary the Virgin.
We'd heard from several people that we had to check out the Turf Tavern, so we went there for dinner. It was so crowded we couldn't find a table inside, but it was a mild night so we were perfectly happy eating in the beer garden. Gosh, I love these creaky old English pubs!
The next morning we took a bus back to London, where we met up with Seanan at Foyle's at lunchtime and passed the rest of the afternoon at the National Gallery. We had one full day in London before we had to go home, which we spent at the Tower of London. Those pics coming soon.
Wiltshire Adventure, day 4
(Day 1; day 2; day 3.)
I've been so intent on blogging about India that I almost forgot I hadn't finished our England trip! We had another excellent breakfast (more veggie sausages!) at The Old Forge before setting out from East Kennett for Bishopstone, hopefully by way of Ogbourne St. George (isn't that a great name?) I knew this was going to be a long day of walking, but it turned out to be a really long day of walking.That was later, though. In the morning we just enjoyed the foggy landscape.
We saw another white horse, this one at Winterbourne Bassett. From a Wiltshire tourism website:
Hackpen Hill lies below The Ridgeway on the edge of the Marlborough Downs and affords wonderful views of the Wiltshire countryside. Its Horse is known as the Hackpen, Broad Hinton or Winterbourne Bassett Horse and was cut in 1838, probably to commemorate Queen Victoria's coronation. Measuring 27½ by 27½ metres, it can sometimes be seen from as far as the downs near the Cherhill horse but only when newly scoured.
Barbury Castle Country Park.Like I said, the original plan was to stop in Ogbourne St. George (since the NYT article makes The Inn with the Well sound awfully atmospheric, and you know I like atmospheric) for lunch or at least tea, but that turned out to be completely unrealistic. Even with bypassing the town and shaving off two (?) miles using the Gypsy Lane track, we still arrived in Bishopstone after the sun had set, tired and cranky and stressed from having to walk on the main road. What's that, you say? Why would you have to walk on a busy road when this is meant to be a national trail?
See that black part between the light blue and the brown? Dear National Trail people: IF I'D WANTED TO WALK ALONG A HIGHWAY I COULD HAVE DONE IT AT HOME. (We were on the road along the brown part too. No pedestrian path to be seen.) We kept asking each other, "Do you remember that Times writer mentioning this part?" Guess what: he didn't. Darn you, Henry Shukman!(While we're on the subject of feeling misled, we realized as we studied the map that the Ridgeway Trail actually incorporates only a portion of the original neolithic road. The rest of it is formed by ordinary public footpaths and such. The original route is marked "Old Ridgeway.")We had a reservation at the Royal Oak, a very pleasant bar with a couple of rooms off the parking lot out back. This place is known for their organic local produce and beers. The food was great (we asked for something off the menu since the mushroom fettuccini wasn't going to hack it, and wound up with a really wonderful meal--colcannon and chickpeas and tahini with kale and beets; creme brulee and pears poached in mulled wine for dessert!), but the room itself wasn't so amazing. Margot and Sheryll (our B&B hostesses on the first two nights) had totally spoiled us; when you stay at a pub you probably won't find it so homely (or clean). Oh well, it was clean enough.(Okay, I'm done complaining now!)
Kate: I get a point and a half. I asked for directions.
Me: Not that this is a competition or anything.
Kate: But I'm still winning.
(This is from day 1, on our way to Stonehenge, but I forgot to include it.)
Enjoying the sunny afternoon, maybe an hour or so before we hit the highway.(In the morning we took a local bus to Swindon, where we caught a double-decker to Oxford and had a great time wandering around. So Oxford is next.)
Wiltshire Adventure, day 2
I admitted to Kate straightaway that the second day's walking (from Amesbury to Manningford Abbots, in the vale of Pewsey) was going to be a very long haul, but even that was an understatement. I don't know that we could have walked it all even if we hadn't encountered a few nonexistent public-rights-of-way that resulted in wasted time retracing our steps. Oh well--it was still a very nice walk, full of variety, and the weather was perfect. My sister really enjoyed ambling through all the little villages and oohing over the architecture.
We spotted this behemoth in a farmyard along the route. He seemed much too big to be able to walk out into the yard on his own, so we imagined the farmer brought him out in a cart to snooze in the sunshine.
A kissing-gate at the end of a pastureful of cows. (Not so romantic as it sounds, then!)
We did a little "we're over the fold of the map" dance.It got to be 3:30 and we knew we didn't have a prayer of making it to Manningford Abbots before dark, so we gave up and took the bus. And we didn't feel the slightest bit guilty about it, because it gave us more time to enjoy our 17th-century bedroom:
I can't say enough good things about Huntly's Farmhouse. The house itself is a huge treat for someone like me (who was obviously born on the wrong continent in the wrong century), and Margot is an amazing hostess--she brought us tea and homemade lemon cake when we arrived, and breakfast in front of an enormous open stone fireplace with things like stewed figs and quince jam was thoroughly memorable. Being there reminded me that I still haven't blogged about A Traveller in Time (which I was reading during the Cotswolds trip back in November, and excerpted here).(n.b.—if you want to book at Huntly's, it's best to call. Either that internet form doesn't work, or Margot doesn't check it. She's one of those chilled-out B&B owners who just does it on the side.)
Margot gave us directions to a great little pub in Wilcot, a mile and a quarter off, so we walked over for dinner in the twilight. (Of course we used our headlamps for the walk back, and it was pretty creepy when the bluish LED light reflected off the cows' eyes in the darkness. Bovine zombies, ieeeeeee!)
We had a hearty meal (vegetable lasagna and veggie shepherd's pie) at the Golden Swan; Margot had called ahead to tell them we were coming, and they were very friendly. I took this pic as a wish-you-were-here for Elliot, and reminded myself of LOLcats: 'I bought you a beer, but then I drinked it.'Next post: Manningford Abbots to East Kennett (one mile from the great stone circle at Avebury).
Wiltshire Adventure, day 1
How every trip with Kate begins. Waiting for the bus to Amesbury last Monday morning.I wasn't online last week (apart from a few 30-second email checks) because my sister and I were walking in Wiltshire. This trip came about thanks to this New York Times article and the fact that I was already in the UK doing some book research.Instead of walking two days on the Ridgeway Trail, we decided to begin at Stonehenge and end at Bishopstone, a village between Avebury and Wantage. We had a few inevitable hiccups along the way (darn you, landowners who ignore public rights-of-way!), but it was a great trip--rolling green farmland, prehistoric stone monuments, picturesque villages, big delicious breakfasts, friendly locals and local ales (for me, anyway). From Bishopstone, we went to Oxford for a night, then returned to London for another day and a half of sightseeing with Seanan before heading home yesterday morning.Last Monday we (eventually) found each other at Heathrow and took the bus to Amesbury, the closest town to Stonehenge. After checking in at our B&B, we took the scenic route to the monument. I'd say we walked about seven miles, arriving back in town just before dark.
It must be the time of year for rethatching, because we saw several roofs being worked on. Below: tumuli in a field opposite Stonehenge.
I had heard that a busy highway runs very close to Stonehenge, but it still seemed amusingly incongruous (our favorite word on this trip). We got there about 5:30, after closing time, but the sidewalk is only five feet farther from the walkway around the stones that you have to pay £7 to access. We got a great view at sunset and didn't pay a penny.
We stayed at The Anchorage, now one of my very favorite B&Bs—and you know I've been to a few! [Edit, 2013: no longer operating as a B&B, sadly!] Nothing better at the end of a long walk than a hot bubble bath, especially when it's in that tub. If you are planning a trip to Stonehenge and want to stay in the area, you MUST stay here. Sheryll is one of the most genuinely friendly B&B owners I've ever met--she plotted our walking route for us, the breakfast was almost too generous, the rooms are incredible, and she brought us tea and chocolate treats in a cozy sitting room (with open fire) when we got back from dinner that night. (We found a very good Indian restaurant on the high street.)Next post: Amesbury to Manningford Abbots, where we stayed in a wonderful 17th-century farmhouse.
York
After London I spent a night in York (yes, "Old York") en route to Edinburgh. It was just as atmospheric a place as I expected--I really enjoyed walking the walls and wandering through the reconstructed Victorian streets inside the York Castle Museum. The Minster was closed for graduation ceremonies both days I was there, which was very disappointing, but at least it's something to look forward to for next time.
Walking the medieval city walls.
Spotted in the confectioner's window at the York Castle Museum. I wonder what they tasted like.
The York Minster.
One of the many charming things about this town: all the cafés in what used to be tollhouses. I had a delicious gingerbread latté in this one, on the Skeldergate Bridge.
I went on a ghost walk that night. There are several options, and I can't say I recommend the one I went on (this one, so you can avoid it)--so heavy on theatrics that he only told us four or five stories in the space of an hour and fifteen minutes. I wasn't all that disappointed until I passed another guide in the Shambles (the quaintest street in York), and heard what I was missing.Anyway, the house above is the site of the saddest story I heard that night: a little girl had come down with buboes, and after they'd put her to bed for the night her parents locked her room, put an X over the front door, and fled the city. In the morning she called out but no one passing by would help her, and now people say they can see her face peering down out of the bedroom window (sometimes even in the daytime).The other day I was browsing through a book about the plague in England, and I found this quote:
Father abandoned child; wife, husband; one brother, another...and none could be found to bury the dead for money or friendship.
--Agnolo di Tura, Siena, 1348.
I can't imagine abandoning a child in any circumstances, let alone leaving a child to die alone in agony, but it sounds like it happened all the time. I sat down on a park bench opposite the house and stared at the window for awhile, but I didn't see her.
Holy Trinity, Goodramgate, which dates mostly from the fifteenth century. This is the only church in York to have retained its box pews (an intriguing feature, as I'm not sure why it would be necessary to have that much 'privacy' at Sunday service). You only get a slight sense of this from the photo, but the walls are seriously wonky--you look up and think 'I know it's been around for six hundred years and all, but I really hope today isn't the day the whole place crumbles around my ears.'I (surprise, surprise) also indulged in a crafting geek-out at Ramshambles (tiny shop, but very friendly) and Duttons Buttons (thanks to Kate Davies' great York Craft Tour post from spring '09). The stock at Duttons wasn't as quirky as those little red teacup buttons would suggest, and the staff weren't particularly nice, but I picked up some really lovely ones for two 2011 (!) sweater projects.Next post: SCOTLAND!
the Cotswolds, part 3
I took this video somewhere between Snowshill and Stanton. Those strange undulations in the field are left over from an ancient ploughing method called ridge and furrow, as explained here.(We realized not long afterward that we were a teensy bit lost, and had to hoof it back to Stanton along the main road. Oh well.)
Further Adventures in London
St. Bart's.
Did I keep busy in London! I went Christmas shopping at Liberty's with Amy (thanks to Maggie's introduction), met up with Marian for a late lunch, went to a cookbook launch event at the Freemasons' Hall (thanks to Henry), did the British Museum and a few great pubs with Steve and Andy (who were on a short vacation in London and Paris), and reveled in tea and knitting at Drink, Shop & Do with Emma. Plus Westminster Abbey, the Jewel Tower, St. Bart's, the National Gallery, and a few other places I'm sure I'm forgetting.Below: St. Bart's, two photos from the Freemasons' Hall, Steve and Andy at the Lamb & Flag on Rose Street in Covent Garden, the Tree of Life at the British Museum, the Victoria & Albert Museum of Childhood.
(So many more photos to put up...York, Edinburgh and the Scotland tour, and I still haven't gotten to Maryland or the last Peru post!)
the Cotswolds, part 2
We stayed in Stanton, which just might be the poshest village of the Cotswolds; it's very small, no shops and only the one pub, the Mount Inn (but it does great food, so between the huge delicious breakfasts and pub dinners--and dessert, my god, the dessert! best sticky toffee pudding ever, and elderflower ice cream!!!--we were set).
It's true, the architecture is heart-achingly quaint. Our (utterly, utterly marvelous) B&B was formerly the village post office, and we stayed in what had been the telephone exchange. The place was spotless; there were two spider-webs in the window, but they were so perfectly formed it was if someone had arranged them there.
We arrived later than expected on Saturday, so we had to do the short version of a walk I'd been really excited for (alas, it gets dark around 4:30); but on Sunday morning we decided to stay another night (instead of walking to the larger town of Winchcombe with our bags), so it turned out we were able to do the long version of the Saturday walk on Monday (Stanton-Snowshill; downloadable map and details here). And on Sunday we walked to Winchcombe--eight miles, give or take--and had an old-fashioned high tea (cucumber sandwiches, scones as big as your head and slathered in cream and jam, cupcakes) at The White Hart before getting picked up by a kind-hearted plumber at nightfall for the return trip. (The public transportation, such as it is, is pitiful. According to the bus timetable, there would be a bus. But there was no bus, although one out-of-service bus did drive by, and that's when our plumber called out his window and asked where we were going.)
Anyway, back to Saturday evening. We walked for an hour and a half or so--you have the public right of way through the fields, so we often found ourselves in the company of sheep or horses--and on our return to Stanton we wandered around the Church of St. Michael and All Angels, the oldest parts of which date from 1200.
Graveyard at dusk. Not the most subtle of metaphors.
After visiting the church we went back to the B&B to rest before dinner, and I came upon this passage in the delightful children's fantasy novel I was reading, Alison Uttley's A Traveller in Time:
The church was sweet and clean, for Dame Cicely had it scrubbed each week, and fresh herbs were strewn in the pews. There was a smell of rosemary and balm, and the cool odor of green rushes from the brook-side, which were soft as velvet under my feet as I stood in a familiar pew. There was a heavy tapestry curtain across one end of Mistress Babington's pew, to screen her from the congregation, and cushions and footstools were placed ready for her. In the windows shone the lovely painted glass, and by the font was the ancient clock complaining with the wheezy voice of a old man.
Perfect.
And here are two of the best photos from our Monday walk to Snowshill, another tiny and utterly enchanting place:
You see why we were sorry to go back to London?
(London photos coming too...along with Minneapolis, Maryland, AND my last Peru entry!)
