23 June, 2007

Taste of London!



















Oh, I wish you'd been there with me! I don't mind going places by myself (John is always mystified that I will go to lunch by myself, his idea of sheer torture, but the people watching is good!). But sometimes when you don't just go somewhere, but you're filled with enthusiasm for the place you're going to, it's a shame not to have anyone along to gurgle with. I had hoped to go with Vincent, but imagine this: he had to WORK. Honestly, I have got so spoiled with Vincent being between jobs, and my husband being between jobs, that I never imagine going anywhere on my own. I felt ashamed that I had nothing better to do with myself than traipse around the Taste of London, but that's what I did. I couldn't think of anyone else obsessed enough with food to accompany me, so there you go.

I don't know what I was thinking, arriving at 2 o'clock and knowing I had to be at school pickup at 3:20! First of all, naturally, I got lost. Well, not lost as in didn't know where I was (all right, a little that) but as in couldn't find the festival inside Regent's Park. I wandered until finally I saw lots of posh-looking people coming toward me carrying plastic champagne glasses and realised I had struck pay dirt. Once I was in, I don't know how I could have missed it: it was enormous! The whole setup of posh people, tasteful wealth and white tents reminded me of nothing so much as the Hampton Classic, last summer. There were portable rubber paths set up in the expectation that the occasionally blackish purple clouds overhead would see fit to empty their contents upon our hapless foodie heads (it sprinkled a bit but that was all, in fact).

I had no sooner arrived, bought my little "crowns" (the tickets that enable you to "taste" the chefs' creations) than I looked at my watch and thought, "Holy *&^%, it's practically time to get Avery." Whereupon my phone rang and it was my saintly, impossibly perfect friend Becky (except that she can be counted on for a nice gossip and a little friendly cattiness when you need it). "Listen, why don't I pick up Avery and take her to my house, the girls can do their homework, and then you can come bring her sleepover stuff and I'll take them to Elizabeth's?" Done! Suddenly nearly two hours stretched out in front of me, and I could only wish I had not eaten lunch. What was I thinking?

Let's see, where to start. I didn't feel that my lack of appetite justified spending tons of money on "crowns" for sampling the famous chefs' wares, so I tasted just a few things. One, a glorious thing called a "prawn pomelo with peanuts on a betel leaf," from a Thai place called Busaba Eathai. Lovely and fresh and so exotic: nothing I could produce at home.

All right, I must confess; if I don't post this now, I don't know when I will. More tomorrow, but I didn't want you to think I fell off a cliff. Life is busier than I can keep up with, this week...

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