Lovely family-style table at the Farmy offices. (I'd offer you more photos here, but I'm trying to get better about not photographing my food as much, and, instead, just eating and enjoying. It's a struggle.)
And then, and then! We got to go to London to meet up with my Aunt Kathleen and Uncle Lynden, who were spending 10-ish days in London with his sister Barbara and Barbara's best friend Mary. I feel bad about how far we dragged them around that city on foot, but at least we managed to find some good food for them. At the very least, Mike and I had so much fun with them!
Ads spotted on our way to Harrod's for high tea. Um...what??
High tea at Harrod's! (Pro tip: high tea includes a substantial amount of food. If you go, go hungry.)
My adorable aunt and uncle. And lots and lots of pastries.
Also at Harrod's: this insane 5-story escalator hall done up entirely in Egyptian kitsch.
Next stop, the Victoria & Albert Museum. I've been 3 times now and have yet to see the whole thing, but at least this time we saw something new (to us): the Islamic art and design section. Spectacular. (Here, some Iranian tiles from 1262.)
If it's not obvious by now, I'm entirely taken with Islamic ceramics. These are tiles from the 14th-century Uzbekistani tomb of a descendant of Genghis Khan.
And here, the biggest stand-alone Persian carpet I've ever seen. This is officially the world's oldest dated carpet, from the town of Ardabil in northwest Iran, made in 1539. (The know that 'cause of the inscription at this end, in that little tan square.) This thing measures about 5.3 meters by 10.4 meters, or about 17 by 35 feet, which makes the fact that the entirety of the design is one continuous pattern all the more astounding.
Level view of the massive Chihuly in the museum's entrance.
Another new-to-me exhibit: THE JEWELRY ROOM. This is a thing I'd like to have in my house, please. This place has everything from ancient through very modern jewelry, and it is amazing. Here, a golden collar from the late Bronze Age (800-700 BC) found in Ireland.
Somewhat more modern, an English sapphires-and-diamonds set from about 1850. (Oooooooooh.)
And the only truly modern piece I really liked, the "Cavolo Arancione" brooch from 2011. (Yeah, that's romanesco cast in orange acrylic. Awesome.)
Dinner that night (for the 6 of us) was at the ridiculously trendy, but really excellent, Dishoom in Carnaby. I can't at all recollect what we ordered--it was at least 8 dishes to pass around--but they were all great, and it was a lovely dinner to share with relatives and friends. (The okra fries were astoundingly delicious--this coming from someone who's never liked okra in her life--and the house black dal and chana chaat [chickpeas with couscous, sprouts, pomegranate and pumpkin seeds] were marvelous.)
The next day, we met at the Borough Market to poke around and find some snacks and generally take in the sights. Mmmmmmmmm, heaps of figs... (When I looked at this photo on my computer, I couldn't figure out why I'd taken a picture of boxes of figs with the fruit printed on them, but then I realized that it was just a weird angle. That's actual piles of fruit, people.)
Yet another thing I'd like to have for my house: a fridge solely for cheese.
Next, we headed past the Globe and over the Millennium bridge (towards St. Peter's)...
...past Knightrider Court, woooo!...
...to the rather ridiculous Courtauld Gallery, a tiny gem of a place that is literally packed full of art by artists you've actually heard of. (Which is saying something, for me. Not so knowledgeable about the fine art, here.) In the very first room we came to (ok, ok, we may have done things in reverse chronological order, but who's counting?), was a wall full of Seurat paintings...*
...and a couple of Van Goghs. Plus a Toulouse-Lautrec. You know, those guys.
My favorite of the lot, this gorgeous Manet from around 1877. (Not pictured: several other Manet pieces; several Degas'; a couple of Pisarros; a few Kandinskys; a Monet; a Renoir; a Breughel the Elder; several other Seurats; and a Botticelli, for crying out loud. Plus a bunch more I can't remember off-hand. Seriously, if you're not into giant, crowded museums, but want to see a quality collection full of famous paintings, go to the Courtauld. It's unbelievably approachable, full of masters, and nearly empty!)
And also, on the ground floor, there's a collection of much older art, the most astonishing piece of which is the lid of this tiny box from Iran or Turkey, made in about 1500. Seriously, the thing is so small, and the intricacy of that engraving and inlay so mind-boggling...! (Plus, the lip of the box that fits underneath this lid is inscribed in both Arabic and Latin lettering around the edge, which I find to be extremely neat.)
After an embarrassingly long slog across Covent Garden (insane with post-theater traffic!) and into various territories unknown, we made it to dinner at the Ember Yard, a Mediterranean eatery whose menu revolves around Spanish and Italian food cooked over charcoal and wood (hence the name, obvs). Again, we ordered an irrationally high number of dishes to share, and ended up stuffing ourselves silly on some really lovely food. (In particular, the grilled flatbread and blood sausage egg roll-like things [morcilla cigarillos] were so good that we ordered two rounds.) Post-dinner, we bid fond adieu to my aunt and uncle; caught a couple of pints at the only pub where we could find seats (LONDON: why are some of your neighborhoods so crowded, sometimes??), and called it a night. The next morning, Mike and I found some really good coffee (London has no shortage of that, thankfully!) just off Trafalgar Square...
So iconic.
...and headed towards the airport and home. At least for a short while. Two weeks later, we packed up a van full of friends and headed south to the Piedmont for a fall visit (which, as we learned in the spring, is probably superior, seeing as how they release a bunch of the wines you want to buy in the fall...good to know). During the first two days, we dined at the really excellent Trattoria del Bivio (where most of my compatriots went for a tasting menu featuring white truffles on every course except dessert); took a tour and tasted some lovely lovely wines at Renato Ratti...
Oh, hello, barolo.
...and then everyone else went off to a tasting at Paolo Manzone (my favorite winery in the Piedmont) and to have what I hear was an excellent dinner at Filippo (my discovery!) while I sat in our B&B and nursed my stupid, picky, angry stomach. (It has punished me, in various ways, for probably half of everything I've eaten and imbibed for the past 15 years. But who's bitter??). Thankfully, I was relatively recovered enough the next day to go to lunch at the one place that lured me to go on the trip at all--Gemma's. Mike's favorite restaurant in the world, and in my top 3. This was the first time we'd had to go there for lunch, as they're reducing their dinnertime hours, but I think that actually worked better, since one then has the rest of the day to digest. (It's not a small meal, kiddies.)
The obligatory church-'round-the-corner-from-Gemma's photo. I take this shot every time we're there. (This was the only trip we've made to the Piedmont where it was foggy the entire time.)
Directly across from the tiny street from Gemma's, we found these two border collies who kept shoving sticks over their wall (and under a fence) so we could play fetch with them. Between the seven of us, we probably threw sticks for these goggies for a good hour.
Only the beginning...! The magnificent meal begins with house-made salami and bread/breadsticks, followed closely by the only raw beef I'll eat (and in obscene quantities, no less, since it's insanely delicious); Russian salad; vitello tonnato (...wooo!); a dish each of homemade tajarin pasta and tiny, meat-filled ravioli al plin, both with meat ragu; two meat dishes and a veggie side; and three desserts (a fantastically unsweet apple strudel, this crunchy meringue thing with whipped cream and nuts on top, and this coffee-hazelnut custardy thing that's endemic [and ubiquitous] to the region). The kind of home-style, somebody's-grandma-cooked-this food that makes my heart sing. I think we've been going there for 10 years, and the menu changes only very, very marginally, and yet...every single time, we know what's coming, and we still overeat, since it's just about the best food ever.
One more game of fetch before we headed back to the B&B for a nap...
Somehow, we talked ourselves into eating again that day, this time for dinner at the osteria attached to our B&B--which we've also stayed at for a number of years, but somehow never tried their restaurant!--and it was just lovely. Very homey, kind service, and good food. The best part, though, was at the end, where we all got to chat with and to thank our very generous hosts, Stefi and Claudio. (The nicest people!) I think our near-annual visits to the Piedmont are the probably the most indulgent, excessive thing we do on a regular-ish basis, but man, is that one of the best places I know for excellent food and drink, and for spending good time with great friends.
In November--probably for the best--there were no travels, but there was music! First, we went to Herzbaracke (one of my favorite venues ever) for dinner and to see Kach Arba, a klezmer group consisting of a pianist, a bassist, a vocalist/storyteller, and a clarinetist, all of whom are wonderful talents. (But especially that voice! and that clarinet...!) We hadn't had a lot of previous exposure to klezmer music, but I'll go on record and say that it's extraordinary--full of both joy and tragedy. Some songs made me want to dance, and some to weep for humanity. It was an evening both enjoyable and moving.
I didn't take much video, because in a venue that small, it's inevitable that the artists notice (and may be distracted by it, and/or feel it's disrespectful in some way), but I did manage to get this clip of the clarinet player doing his thing. Just...wow.
Next up was an artist I've been wanting to see since before we moved to Switzerland: Trombone Shorty, who got his name when he began playing that instrument at the age of four. The guy also plays the trumpet (apparently, among several additional instruments), sings, and raps, and fronts a band full of equally ridiculously talented musicians including bass and rhythm guitar players, a drummer, and alto and tenor saxes. Their music is rock and hip-hop and funk and pop and everything in between, and it is funnnnnnnn. (If they come to a town near you, go. Just go.)
Again, I didn't take much video (well, much good video--the crap phone strikes again), but it seemed only fitting that an artist born and bred in New Orleans would end his show with a rendition of this song. (I felt rather merciful for ending the video here; afterwards, when he tries to get the crowd to sing, one learns exactly how few words to this song the Swiss actually know. [Spoiler: it's seven, including the title.])
And with that, friends, I must close this post so I can get around to editing the photos from--and, hopefully, compiling a blog post about (...but don't hold your breath)--my amazing birthday trip to Lisbon and Sintra.
If I don't quite get to it, however, I wish you and yours the happiest of holiday seasons. I hope you get to share this time with family and friends and, of course, plenty of good food. Love, peace, and safety to you all.
*Yeah, yeah, I know, staring at a Seurat is very Ferris Beuller-y of me, but Pointilism up close is something to behold. How on EARTH did he get all of those teensy dots to form an actual picture???
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