Vegan Britain, part 3
(Vegan Britain, part 2.)It was lunchtime when I got off the train at Waverley, so my first stop in Edinburgh had to be the Baked Potato Shop on Cockburn Street. I got quinoa and beet salad on a small spud, and (as expected) it was HUGE. Still the best-value meal in town. 
This is the only vegan boxed sandwich I found in ALL OF GREAT BRITAIN. (Don't you like how I made it sound as if I've traipsed all over, looking high and low?) But I bet hummus sandwiches-to-go will become much more popular in the future. Good on the National Library of Scotland for offering them—and their soups are usually vegan-friendly too; they're always vegetarian at least. 
Kate M. and I had seen each other for dinner in Galway a couple weeks before, but we caught up again over a lovely lunch at Henderson's. I got the veggie haggis (superb!) with the most amazing side salad (arugula, butternut squash, marinated tofu, pumpkin seeds, and I forget what else). 
Apart from Henderson's, David Bann is probably the best known vegetarian restaurant in Edinburgh; I've only been there once (with Seanan when he came up for a few days after Hawthornden), and I don't remember either of us being very wowed. It was good, not great—though I do remember the big juicy green olives we ordered for an appetizer. Those were perfect. At any rate, I'll probably just keep returning to Henderson's on future trips to my favorite city. 
One rainy evening I walked down to the Forest Café and ordered a hummus plate, with a slab of rich and simple chocolate cake for dessert. 
Lunch at Meadowlark Number 39. The menu wasn't as extensive as I was hoping, but the tomato-rice soup was simple and hearty and the green (er, brown?) smoothie struck the perfect balance—healthy, definitely, but still sweet enough to taste good. 
Nice to see healthier snack options at the Edinburgh airport—I bought dried pineapple and a vegan energy bar with my leftover pound coins. Next time: all the meals in Ireland I haven't yet blogged about!
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!
Edinburgh
I loved Edinburgh. I loved the spooky old alleyways and the baked spuds stuffed with vegetarian haggis and the National Gallery (this painting in particular) and St. Giles (where I wandered in just in time for a free choral concert one Sunday evening).
The view from Edinburgh Castle; the green strip on the right is the dogs' cemetery.
The castle from below, about four o'clock in the afternoon.
St. Margaret: an early 20th-century window from the restored early 12th-century chapel.
At the top of Arthur's Seat. This walk was hands-down my favorite thing in Edinburgh--great panoramic views of the city from boggy hills that otherwise feel wonderfully remote.
(So many more great photos from Scotland, but I probably won't get around to posting them until after Christmas.)
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!)
We pray for those we have loved, and see no more.
While I was in Rye I entered St. Mary's Church during the daily service, and decided to sit down in the back and pay attention just for curiosity's sake (I'd never been to an Anglican service before). This line from the prayers of the faithful has stuck with me--we pray for those we have loved, and see no more.Today would have been my grandmother's 87th birthday. She's been gone nearly fourteen years but I still miss her every day, and every time I pass the cemetery I think about the day they bought the plot, how she told my parents they could wave whenever they drove by on Route 130. Then, according to my dad, she started laughing hysterically, which kind of weirded him out; but if I'd been there, I know I would have laughed too.
Anyway, every so often doesn't it feel good to celebrate the people who have helped make us who we are? My grandmother was kind and smart and patient and wise. She was selfless to a fault. She made the best meatloaf (and I say that as someone who hasn't eaten meat in almost ten years). She was one of the few adults who would play games with us--Old Maid, Go Fish, Trouble, and swimming races. She always let me win.And she was, of course, a voracious reader.
Now this portrait looks over my writing desk.
Adventures in London, part 4
(Here is the fourth and final installment, unfortunately rather short in the picture department.)
I'd been hoping to meet up with the lovely Emma of quelle erqsome, and we finally managed to get together for coffee at Foyle's when I got back from Rye (the day before I flew to Dublin). When Seanan got off work the three of us went to this amazing vegan Asian buffet before catching The Woe Betides at Bush Hall. We felt very old in the midst of so many scantily-clad fourteen-year-olds chugging from vodka bottles stashed in their purses (heck, I would have felt old if I'd been fourteen myself), but it was very good fun and of course The Woe Betides are terrific. (Check them out on iTunes too...I hope that link works.)Anyway, Emma is one half of Made by Loumms, and I have admired their sock patterns and Etsy goodies for awhile now. I finally treated myself to a sock WIP bucket bag, which came in the mail the other day. It's awesome--really well made using adorable fabrics and nifty buttons, and each bag comes with a little lavender sachet (which I could smell as soon as I opened the envelope). I love that they use every last scrap of fabric to make these sachets--very make do and mend-y of them!(The project inside the bag is my almost-finished Julia Socks, and the two hanks next to it are my prize yarn (squee!) from the Electric Sheep podcast for being The Funniest Person on the Internet.Er...okay, One of Two People Who Submitted a Link to The Funniest Thing on the Internet, to be slightly more accurate. (It was the "literal version" of "Total Eclipse of the Heart," which is no longer available on Youtube, alas!)
Rye
I'd had a vague and way-too-ambitious notion of going to both Oxford and York while I was in England, but in the end I just decided to spend a couple nights in Rye, which is about two hours south-east of London. I'd read a little about medieval churches dotted along a spooky coastal marsh, though in the end I couldn't travel any farther because of the weather.Rye is enchanting, especially under a liberal dusting of snow. I went to St. Mary's, but the tower was closed for fear of ice on the steps; all the most interesting shops (antiques, secondhand books, vintage clothing, YARN) were closed; and Lamb House (where Henry James lived while writing The Wings of the Dove) doesn't open until March or April. So there was absolutely nothing to do but walk around in the snow taking pictures, but that suited me fine.Above: St. Mary's churchyard, mid-morning.Below: the Landgate right after it had started to snow again; another view of the churchyard; at the bottom of Mermaid Street, mid-afternoon; the view from the top of Trader's Passage at 4:30pm; the Old Borough Arms (which I can't recommend highly enough).
Adventures in London, part 3
(A view of St. Paul's from the Millennium Bridge.)On Seanan's day off we went to the Victoria & Albert. I spent the most time at the fashion exhibit, which was of course fantastic, although it was pretty hilarious to see a pink velour hoochy tracksuit behind glass like it was some precious artifact. When you go to the V&A you must have lunch (or at least tea) in the cafeteria, which is full of splendid tilework and stained glass windows featuring clever quotations about food. The other really memorable thing was Elizabeth Parker's needlepoint autobiography, which I feel sure I read or heard about in a blog or podcast awhile back, because reading the embroidery felt awfully familiar.Then there were incredibly delicious fruity cocktails at Beach Blanket Babylon in Notting Hill, which were worth every cent of £9. (Just don't pay by credit card, because the waiter will try to confuse you into leaving a bigger tip than he deserves.)The next day I went to the National Gallery expressly to see Venus & Mars (not that I didn't see a lot of other amazing paintings too--being able to view The Ambassadors in person was a really cool experience!), and then to the Royal College of Surgeons Museum, which is the final resting-place (er--of sorts) of the 'Irish Giant', Charles Byrne. (I'd recently read The Giant O'Brien by Hilary Mantel, a fictionalized account of Byrne's life as a professional oddity in London. Very well written, of course, but stinkin' depressing--his "friends" were all sitting around waiting for him to die so they could sell his body to John Hunter for an exorbitant price.)
Now to the juicy part of this post: the magical print shop that is T. Alena Brett on Cecil Court, off Charing Cross Road (there's no website). Thousands of odd or otherwise special little antique prints, most of which are £3-5. I can't say enough good things about this place, or its owner. The building has a fascinating history as well--a long time ago it was a barber's shop, and as a boy Mozart had his hair cut there; and in the early 20th century it was a tea room frequented by several of the war poets (Rupert Brooke, et al). The tables were set up along the tiny balcony where I took the photo above.
Above: the Christmas window display at T. Alena Brett. Below: two of the prints I bought, 'Princess Fiorimonde' and 'Fair at Westminster in the Fourteenth Century'.
Adventures in London, part 2
New Year's Day was pretty lazy--after hanging around Foyle's for awhile (Seanan was working), Deirdre and Diarmuid and I went to The George for some mulled wine. The building dates to the mid-1600s; Dickens drank there, and Shakespeare at an earlier tavern on the same site. Very quaint and surprisingly untouristy.On the 2nd we went shopping at iKnit (Diarmuid was a real trooper) and Persephone Books, and eventually we got to the British Museum. I picked up some violet cremes (out of this world!!) at Hope & Greenwood to have at The Woman in Black, which was every bit as spooky as we hoped. Afterwards we met Seanan (who was just getting off work) and had a terrific dinner (with margaritas) at some Mexican place I can't remember the name of.Above: a medieval grotesque at the British Museum.Below: the main hall, and the Easter Island statue.
Deirdre and Diarmuid had to leave early on the 3rd, and Seanan was working, so I spent the day (mostly) browsing. There was yarn shopping--oh my, was there yarn shopping--and there was fabric, too, at the hallowed Liberty's, although I didn't end up buying anything because that place is so overwhelming it's impossible to make a decision!
Above: the Columbia Flower Market on a Sunday morning; graffiti art on the back of a truck at the Brick Lane market; Regent Street just before 5pm.
Adventures in London, part 1
On the 31st I flew from Knock to Stansted. Seanan, Deirdre, and Diarmuid met me at Liverpool Street station, and after I'd dropped my bags we romped around town for a bit--browsed at The Tea House and Hope & Greenwood, which has to be THE best sweet shop in the whole world.
The amusements at Leicester Square.
Then we went to Fortnum & Mason, the poshest department store ever, where I felt like a street urchin drooling over the candy counters.
Then we went home and Seanan cooked up a delicious dinner (spicy parsnip soup! in a bread bowl! an olive bread bowl! and filo pastries with spinach and brie and apples and pine nuts! and some no-doubt-yummy chocolatey thing I was way too full for! and he even got me amaretto and cranberry juice!!) It was a lovely laid-back New Year's Eve.