If I told you there was a large island of stunning beauty, strewn with medieval villages, plunging gorges and empty beaches, an island still unmarred by mega-resorts and chain restaurants and mass tourism… you’d probably think I was talking about some place in the middle of the ocean. The Pacific perhaps, where simple isolation can salvage a landscape from marauding vacationers. Continue reading
I’ve been meaning to blog about Maltby Street Market for over a year now, but every time I begin to write a post I realize I have zero pictures to go along with it. The problem is that every time I go to Maltby Street, I’m so preoccupied with cramming food and drink in my mouth that I invariably forget to even pull the camera out of my bag. I tried to remedy this issue last weekend and, despite various edible distractions, garnered enough pics to finally put together a post about my favorite London market of all. Continue reading
I ushered in my 20’s by drinking gallons of Strongbow in a London dive bar, which I’m pretty sure had vaguely Indian decor, and which I know overcharged for gin. I remember sitting on a bunch of throw-pillows and making a toast to the end of my youth, to the beginning of adulthood, to my friends, to my general awesomeness, to the bartender, to the waiter who brought me reheated samosas…
The rest is fuzzy, but I definitely skipped class the next day.
We had every intention of spending the four-day Easter weekend in London. Really. But then there were these cheep tickets to Madrid, see, and a sunny forecast with highs in the mid-70s, and an alluring rumor that Semana Santa is the time to troll the streets in search of fried dough. Fried dough drenched in sugar. Fried dough served with wine. So really, no arm twisting was needed here. Continue reading
Chinatown NYC, August 2013: I discover the Chinese egg tart. I love it. I marvel at the layers of the shatteringly-crisp crust, and the scorched creamy center. I wonder why it’s so European in technique and flavor. I shove another tart in my mouth and forget to Google an answer.
Belem, Lisbon, November 2013: I come across a bunch of Chinese egg tarts at a cafe and wonder why the Portuguese are selling Chinese desserts. Am told said tart is a pastel de nata and was actually invented by the Portuguese “you stupid idiot.” I shove another tart my my mouth and again forget to Google the connection.
Nanjing lu, Shanghai, January 2015: I take a Chinese street food tour, which ends at a Portuguese bakery selling, of course, egg tarts. Am told the tarts grew popular in Macau and Hong Kong, where locals have a major sweet tooth. Briefly consider how odd it is that a Portuguese tart chain is so wildly popular in China. Shove another tart in my mouth and try to forget the sea snake murder I just witnessed.