Monday, September 24, 2012

Maltby Market - Why I Heart London


OK I am about to get all political on you here (sort of). One thing London really has going for it, is all the small businesses occupying tiny commercial corners of the city. For anyone that doesn't know, starting a business (in particular a food or alcohol-related business) in California is a shit-show: triple sinks, commercial ovens, city building and health permits, public hearings (where every NIMBY douche and their mother shows up to complain about the potential parking and noise impacts - barf), ABC paperwork and expense, agggghhhhh.

You cannot even start a sandwich joint without a half-million dollar layout upfront.

It's not like that in London. It generally seems a bit more, "if you eat that and die then it is your fault - and besides we have healthcare so it doesn't really matter anyway." Start up costs way are lower for small businesses. In general, the city planning bureaucracy is more supportive of adaptive reuse of abandoned manufacturing or industrial space (as compared to the U.S. - in my humble opinion).

Case in Point: Maltby Market, which is a collection of small independent shops, restaurants, cheese producers, bars, breweries, farmers, butchers, bakers, and candlestick-makers (not really) attracted to the area by cheap rents and an excellent location. This "market" is just a bunch of formerly blighted railway arches and unused industrial space that has been converted into a great place to spend a Saturday morning. It is all really just so hodge-podge and creative. I effing love it.

Norwegian guy that smokes his own salmon, divine.

T
This is just a shitty alley, but add pork and booze and it is a lovely place.


Because the alcohol-related rules are less draconian here in London than they are in the U.S., you also get pop-up bars like this one serving Little Bird London Dry Gin (Finny - you would never leave this place). They use mismatched 1950's drinking glasses to serve creative cocktails, and they were PACKED at 11:30am on a Saturday.

Little Bird London Dry Gin - put a bird on it!

Hipster cocktails.



The pictures below are of Dave's favorite place, Kernel Brewery. The brewery is also in the Maltby Market area, in yet another abandoned railway arch.

Talk about a no-frills brewery. You sit on the floor or at picnic tables, order ham from the Spanish guy next door, and viola - Cloud Nine. They even have a sandbox for the kiddos, smart move Kernel. Their hoppy IPAs taste especially good after all the flat, warm cask ales you drink around here.

Hanging hams, I want one.

Salami and beer, perfection as god intended.

This is it, the railway arch. Such a great example of adaptive reuse!


Inside the brewery. These dues were annoyed I took a picture, sorry guys.


We had lunch at 40 Maltby Street, since it was a bit cold to eat outside at the market - which is the tragic downfall of pop-up-anything in London. 40 Maltby has the most creative (and sometimes scary) food menu and serve wines from tiny vineyards throughout Europe. We had game pie, beet salad, mussels, and an unfiltered red wine from France.

Beets.


Mussels.


The 40 Maltby kitchen, tiny and everything made fresh.

Yup, pork cooked in milk. So good it should be illegal.


Feeling inspired by everything at the market, we came home and cooked up chicken potpies - homemade crust and all. Oh the buttery goodness. We used this recipe from Simply Recipes (love) and it was all surprisingly waaaayyyyyy easier than I thought it would be.

Note: we amended the recipe a little by adding leeks, fresh off the cob corn, purple carrots, and extra celery.
 
H.S. and Momma Tina - yes, we have doggie salt and peppers here too.

Never come between a man and his pie.

Th berry pie was a bit overdone, but hell it was my first try.

Friday, September 21, 2012

Friday Funny

OK so my step-father wrote this and sent it to me. I almost peed my pants laughing (see photo and text below). Perhaps it is because the photo was taken on the sightseeing boat we took out to look at the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland last week. Let's just say we had rough seas and I had a little freak out on the boat where I repeatedly chanted, "We're going down, we're going down, we're going down....." Then I actually told my family members that I was going to be the only one to survive the swim back to shore. Oh god.

Perhaps it is just have an 11 year old's sense of humor, I find the Amazon.com Banana Slicer reviews hilarious. Have you seen these, you must waste some of you employers time reading the reviews, for example - this one: 

For decades I have been trying to come up with an ideal way to slice a banana. "Use a knife!" they say. Well...my parole officer won't allow me to be around knives. "Shoot it with a gun!" Background check...HELLO!

Come on, that is some funny shit. 

What was I talking about......oh yeah. So here is what my step-father sent. Have a read and a laugh - and know I had no part in the hilariousness. I am not nearly this creative on my own, unless loads of booze are involved.

You're welcome.
 

Let me interpret this chart for you non-nautical types.
Panel 1: Put on nice clothes as you are probably putting on your funeral clothes
Panel 2: Find this barrel thing
Panel 3: Throw barrel thing off boat
Panel 4: Throw barrel thing back on boat and open it.......stupid
Panel 5: Do a little wind surfing, you will probably be dead soon so have some fun
Panel 6: Have a fellow survivor swim away to attract sharks - to keep them away from you
Panel 7: Tie the raft to the boat so that when the boat sinks it takes you down too
Panel 8: Paddle very hard, as any ship you see will probably run you over like a baby seal

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

UK, Ireland, and France - I Need a Nap

The parents came for a 10-day visit from Chicago. This was their first time in Europe since our wedding in Italy 9 years ago. We stayed a few days in London; then flew to Ireland and visited Doolin, Dingle, Kinsale, and Cork; then flew to Paris.

Overall it was a good trip. We had spectacular weather in London (strangely I have no photos from London).

Ireland was nice, I misjudged the overall speed on the roads in Ireland. We spent way too much time in the car for my liking. Dingle was definitely the standout during the Ireland portion of the trip, in particular the Pax Hotel (love).

Pork, potatoes, and beer - I don't think the Irish ever poo with that diet.

In Dingle, don't you wish that water was warm - me too.

Super old-timey church of some sort.

I don't think I was supposed to climb up there......

Wow, they don't eff around.

Fungi the famous Dingle dolphin, we never saw the "actual" dolphin.


From Ireland, we flew to Paris. OK, let's lay it out there: France rules. There is nothing else to say. Everyone is so nice, the women are stupidly naturally beautiful (no makeup at all), the men wear scarves, and the food makes me want to cry from happiness. And I haven't even mentioned the wine.....

We stayed at the Toits Du Marais. It wasn't exactly what I was expecting. You basically get a bad and bath in someone's home (very Air B&B, if you know what I mean). It was cheap and well-located, and the view rocks. The owner was really patient with my French and didn't defer to English all the time so it was great practice for me. I am not complaining - but it was a bit weird with random people walking around the house.

Requisite tower photo.

Place De Vosges picnic.

Not actually water in those cups, we boozed it up all hours.

Boozing it up, cafe-style. How can something so simple be so great?


Let's just say that since Dave and I got back, we have been laying very low...... Our evenings follow a general flow of cook, eat, read or watch a movie, and sleep. We sleep a lot around here anyway, but we have been really sleeping this week. 

I started my German and French classes again, which I love. OMG the Goethe Institute in London is the best. I highly recommend their classes if you are in London and looking to take German, this may be no one reading this blog - but oh well. I had to say it.

Dave's mom will be the next visitor (probably October), but in the meantime - I need to plan some other trips. We only have 8 months left and we are way off our 24 in 24. Love ya bye.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Emerald Isle Bowl, Ironman 70.3 Ireland

Dublin - Notre Dame vs. Navy
 
Flippin awesome game on so many levels: 1) Free tickets to the game thanks to #87 Daniel Smith who is a friend of a friend of my brother-in-law, who actually got us the tickets; 2) Lovely, newly engaged friends that went to the game with us - one of whom was a real live Irish person; 3) BEER IN THE STADIUM, sorry that is a novelty because you can't drink at games in London - or at college football games in the U.S.; 4) Notre Dame winning 50 to 10 over Navy, 5) Representing the O'Riordan clan at the game and feeling properly Irish, or something like it.

Don't think it was all gorgeousness and such the whole time. Dublin had been invaded by 50,000 Americans in their brand new, sensible running shoes - that have never seen a day of running. I waited too long to book a hotel room and we had to stay at The Gate Hotel. Oh god, don't ever stay there. Seriously, I love to camp and can stay in a small/cheap/dumpy rooms without complaint, but this place was not OK. 

Overall though, fantastic trip and THANK YOU to my brother-in-law for making it all possible!
 
YAY at the game in amazing seats.


The band playing an Irish tribute.
 
Our real Irishman Ronan, with his gorgeous fiance!

Leprechaun sighting, I thought Ronan was going to die when that guy came out.

We were so close, right up front with all the players' parents.


Our sweet Irish friend Ronan got me thinking about all things Irish, so I did a little research (thanks Wikipedia) based on a few of his comments during the game.


Bagpipes – not Irish, they are Scottish. People think they are because they have them in St. Patrick’s Day parades in the U.S. The Irish have the uilleann pipes, which are played with your arm inflating the pipe’s bag-thingy. Check out that photo there on the right. The uilleann pipes sound similar, but they have a greater range of notes and I don't think they are quite as loud as traditional bagpipes.

Kilts – also, not really Irish. While you could say that the kilt has Celtic/Gaelic roots, Irish people have never historically worn tartan kilts (again that is the Scottish apparently). The Irish did wear a 'Lein-croich', which is a tunic made of solid color cloth. Queen Victoria liked how they looked so much that she made her Irish regiments, serving in the British Army, wear them. In the 19th and 20th centuries kilts were worn by the Irish as a symbol of Gaelic nationalism, I guess they were as desperate for identity as we Midwestern Irish are today.  

There you have it. My entire understanding of Irish heritage has been a lie, I am shattered (not really). The red-haired Irish are actually the descendants of Danish Vikings, and there aren’t any kilts or bagpipes in Ireland……WTF.


Galway – Ironman 70.3 Ireland

Immediately after the Emerald Isle Bowl, we made the 2-hour drive west to Galway. Some friends were visiting from the U.S. and were racing the Ironman 70.3 the day after the football game. Since we were in Ireland anyway, we decided to go cheer on our friends and generally catch up on all the U.S. gossip that we have been missing.

As a side note, who the eff thinks it is a good idea to participate in a triathlon in this part of the world anyway: crazy people - that's who. It was pissing down rain and freezing when we arrived, which is a pretty typical Irish summer day from what I understand. Luckily, by race morning the clouds had parted and the sun was out for a gorgeous (but still too cold for me) race day. 

Sorry I don't have many photos, I forgot my camera that morning......

Our man C.H. on the run.

After watching our amazing friends complete the race, it was right to the bar. This was an exercise in fortitude for my liver. Here is how the rest of the day went:

Guinness, Guinness, Oysters, Guinness, Chowder, Guinness, Guinness, Fries, Guinness, Guinness, Guinness, Guinness, Guinness, etc.  

Oh man. Thank god for the best invention of Ireland and Britain, the half-pint…….


Rinse and repeat. BTW, that's my wussy half-pint there in the front.
 
It was still early here.

This is what happens after 17 Guinness.


Oh, and happy 39th to Dave. You are still as dead sexy as the day I met you 18 years ago.

Yep, dead sexy.