I firmly believe that many “foodies” out there discount the oldest restaurant in London, Rules. This was a second visit for me and a destination restaurant that I was looking forward to returning to. See, the last time I ate there, I was only a budding foodie, there was no such thing as a blog, and no way to network with other culinary aficionados to know where to eat. I was just a history buff who had read about the illustrious history including the literary greats who had dined there; Galsworthy, Thackeray, Dickens, and H.G. Wells.
It is slightly sad for me that my time in London was so rushed; there are always so many more places I would like to visit than I had time for, but I applaud myself that I got to the three major art museums: The Victoria and Albert, the Tate Modern, and The National Gallery (oh yeah, and the County Hall Gallery for the Dalí exhibit, but I already mentioned that).
The Victoria and Albert Museum was my first serious expedition as it was terribly close to my hotel. It was exciting to see renovation and expansion, but damnably annoying that its jewelry collection was put away while a stunning new display is being prepared (and will be open in May, just a few weeks away!). It was not hard then to suffice through the stunning hall of silversmithing; rows and rows of tankards and teapots, samovars and spoons, or plates to pomanders. It made me wistful for my days of calloused hands and the methodical percussion of the hammers striking that softened, matte lunar metal.
I hadn’t been in London in almost a decade and it has long been one of my favorite places in the world (okay, I haven’t traveled that much, but I read an awful lot!) Regardless, I am a died-in-the-Shetland-wool Anglophile and coming to the United Kingdom always feels like I am coming home. This was going to be a short trip, only a few days in London before heading off to Barcelona and Geneva. My first visit to London was as a young adolescent, on a musical excursion with my French Horn instructor and his wife, the late Rudy Tate. That trip has since been categorized in my memory as having visited Elizabethan England with jaunts to Stratford-Upon-Avon, Hanford Court, and similar Renaissance points. My second visit, ten years ago, was a promise I made to myself; that if I ever got a Master’s degree, I would reward myself with a return to my beloved England. That trip was my journey through Roman England; a week in York, a week in Bath and neighboring Wells, and a week in London where much time was spent in the British Museum. Now I get to return to my artistic roots and explore the multiple fabulous museums and eat through the many noted restaurants…
Here on the West Coast, train travel is a bit of a rarity. I know East Coast folks utilize them considerably more than we do which is a damn shame. As an adolescent growing up in Southern California, I used to take the train a lot when my parents moved to Oceanside to visit my friends in Orange County. This was before I had a driver’s license or a car. Needing to get to Reno the day before Thanksgiving and knowing that the last thing anyone really wants to do is tackle airport madness, I decided to make the journey via the California Zephyr, the Amtrak train which starts in Emeryville, California and goes all the way to Chicago, Illinois. During that trip, I sat in the coach area with the hoi palloi and sufficed my hunger pangs with a mediocre burger in the dining car. As The Boyfriend and I needed to head back to Reno for Christmas, I cajoled him into taking the train but making a true adventure out of the trip with a little fondue preparation…