what do u2, kate moss and delicious have in common?

So my friend Sarah was visiting from Roanoke, Virginia and I thought I'd take her to Covent Garden Market to do a bit of shopping.  I was scouting around the net for some interesting sites and came upon this fancy little cupcake store nearby called Primrose Bakery.  One review said it is the cupcake joint of choice of U2 and Kate Moss. Hmm.

So we took a gander.

Bathed in soft, pastel colors and warm with sugary good smells, the bakery is a delight to all senses.  From vases of fresh flowers on the tables to the immaculate, pink restroom (I'm thorough, yes), it is girled-out to the highest caliber.


And then, of course, there are the cupcakes.

We had a little trouble deciding, but after much deliberation:

 

I chose the Earl Gray Tea cupcake, with the lovely lavendar icing.

Sarah selected a lemon beauty, with perfect sugared treats on top.

With my strangely-pronged fork hovering over the bergamot-scented cupcake, I wondered briefly what the fuss was all about.  Why, it was a pretty cupcake, sure, but really? Bono and supermodels?
I took a bite.

OMG OMG OMG CUPCAKES FROM HEAVEN!!!! they are INCREDIBLE and LIGHT AND FLUFFY and mine was baked with EARL. GRAY. TEA IN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ahem.  

It was quite the extraordinary cupcake experience, and I would highly recommend it to the Covent Garden visitor.  

(Sal chose the plum cake. It was gone before we could take a picture. *Above photos courtesy of Sarah.)

demons and snow angels

I know it's cheating, but I'm going to post a journal entry instead of a recent post. Don't judge me.

(5 Jan.)
It was a serendipitous day.
I was running errands, popping in and out of stores on Fleet Street, when I saw a plaque just inside the doorway of this pub, grandiose and imposing, complete with torches lining the doorway. The plaque began with a description of the history of the pub, once housing an older pub which served such customers as Lord Tennyson. Toward the end of the history was a mention of two buildings which used to flank the pub:
- the shop of Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street
- and the meat pie shop of his mistress.
And under those very buildings was the fabled furnace in which these terrible pies were cooked.
I laughed out loud with joy at my bizarre discovery.

Much later, I happened to look up from my computer to see steady, perfect snowflakes streaming outside. I hurried out into the night and walked to the Thames. Finding a bench I sat and watched the snow fall over the skyline of the Millennium Bridge and buildings lining the north bank.
For a while I watched the snow gather quietly on to the bank, onto things that man and nature made. Until I became a thing for snow to gather on.
Then, across the river -
donggg
donggg
donggg
- a bell sounded from some tower across the river. Clear as if I was kneeling in the sanctuary, the water carrying its full and lonely sound to my snowy bench.
I sat in the falling snow as St. Paul's Cathedral rang midnight.
This is what it means to live in a storybook instead of visit. You chance upon these great moments, rather than seek them out. They are there, every day. You have but to look, and listen.

too sexy for this blog

We are really pampered in the Government Department. We got a *special* invitation to a reception following a speaker event with Speaker John Bercow, MP . The Speaker of the House of Commons had a lot to say about his role as Speaker, but instead of giving you an intelligent summary, I will present my notes, in single quotes, and direct quotes from Speaker Bercow that I found amusing or titillating, in full quotes. Enjoy.

'I am modern and like to chill with the masses. I don't dig those old costumes.'
'I wasn't invited to be a Minister and I don't want it anyway, so nyah!'
'I won't say it was because of me (but we all know it was)...'
"scrutineer" (this word is too cool for spelling)
"haven't got two brass farthings to rub together"
"I'd like to have the whole cake...."
'He has a LOT of hair...More than I expected from his pic on Wiki...'
"People are put on the committee either as a reward or a punishment."
'And is that a light pink shirt under that blazer or is it the lighting?'
"Political faiths"
'Q: (from audience) Why are there so many white guys in the House?
A: (from Sp. Bercow) I'm awesome. (We had a conference. And we'll have a chat about it. Maybe quotas? Maybe not. But it's a problem.)'
"chin-less wonder" (brilliant!)
"I hope the country will resist the siren calls of extremists..."
"I'm a hybrid" (really???)

The Internet multi-verse will kindly forgive any over-cheekiness in the above notes/quotes list.
He was pretty entertaining, well-composed and not only did he attend the reception afterwards, but spent the entire 30-45 mins or so conversing with the students, rather than rubbing elbows with dignitaries.
I'm not entrenched in British politics, but whatever your "political faith", that's a point in the guy's favor.

And let's face it, the man has got some hair. And by some, I mean tons. Pantene or Vidal Sasson could make a killing off Speaker Bercow.

fermented shark shots

Sal is now in London (!!!!) and to start his adventure off properly I took him to a lovely multi-national dinner party hosted by a couple of my coursemates. The hosts are both from Iceland, and introduced us to a local favorite treat called Hákarl - small chunks of fermented shark. It's fermented, she explained, because sharks don't pee and thus the ammonia gets all trapped in the meat and you have to let it out via decomposing.
Wait, it gets better.
We were to follow a bit of shark with a shot of 'black death', or Brennivín - a type of schnapps so nicknamed because it was about the only safe thing to drink during the Black Plague.
The shark was kind of tasty for the first few seconds - but then something terrible started happening with my nose. Suddenly shark was everywhere - I could see, hear, and smell in shark. I took the shot of black death. It made me brave. I took some more shark. The room started to swim.

You know what we brought to the party? Chili. Or, rather, what Sal calls 'white people chili.' He toned the spice level down to accommodate the Nordic/European delicate palate. That was a mistake. I'm bringing stuffed cayenne peppers next time. These people are badder than we ever imagined.

cultural differences

"Guinness is blood," a guest informs me at the pub.
I raise an eyebrow, wondering if he's quoting some colloquialism or commercial I haven't seen.
He raises his glass to me and grins. "I don't know how they do in other places, but in Ireland they don't sell the blood. You give it, as a donation. Well, back some time ago they would give you a half-pint of Guinness after you donated your blood."
Now both eyebrows of mine are raised. "A half-pint you say?"
He nods. "They said it restored what you were missin' after the blood was taken. So they would give you a half-pint, and a cup of tea and a biscuit."
My fellow bar-maid is German and tells us that they get paid for giving blood there.
"We donate blood in America too, but they don't give us Guinness," I say, grinning, "Back in college they gave us pizza and a Coke."
We laugh.

I guess in America, Coke is blood.

most awesome money?

Just got home from a trip back home....wait. Let's try that again. Just got back to London from a brief visit to Virginia. When I finally got all of my crap unpacked I discovered four different currencies in my travel purse. Pounds, Canadian whatevers, Euros and American Dollars. What am I going to do with 10 Canadian whatchamajiggers? I mean, it's pretty and all, but useless unless I happen to layover in Ottawa again. 

This begs another very serious question for the world traveler. Which money is the best? I'm taking votes here. The results will be judged on your best argument for categories other than exchange rate: 

1. cool-looking 

2. usefulness (coins vs. notes, denomination efficiency) 

3. transferability (where it can be used.) 

Here's your big chance to rant about how boring your money is or how totally awesome. 

Go.

wish list

Around this time of year, every year, it's the same rhetoric. What do you want for ______ (insert holiday)? What are you doing for ______ (insert holiday name) break? What are you thankful for?
I remember as a kid, I knew what I wanted for Christmas by the brand name, listed in priority order, by Halloween or earlier. My wish list featured all toys I had seen on TV or clutched in some other lucky kid's arms, and I was thankful when I got most of them. Or the BIG ONE on top of the list at least.

Every year of growing up has shrunk my wish list and lengthened my thankful list. This is strange and ironic, like a 'want' hyperbola. The closer I get to having all the stuff I want the farther I get from appreciating it. I don't know if something intrinsically changes in a person as he sheds his training wheels and braves it in the real world, or if it is simply the lens through which he views his priorities.

But I do know this: being away from home makes you yearn for home. Being away from friends makes you want to check facebook every few hours just to see what new silly thing they've posted about their everyday life. Being away from family makes you look forward to every video chat, every phone call, every e-mail.

I have barely thought about what I want for Christmas this year. Most everyone I know is skint on account of the crappy economy - even if they weren't, what would I ask for?  I just want to go home. I want to see my husband, pet my evil cat, laugh with my goofy family, drink some tea with my friends.

And my thankful list - well, it's pretty much the same as my wish list. Just one addition: I'm thankful for wine gums. Man those things are tasty.
 
Wishing all of you in cyberspace a peaceful Christmas, surrounded by those things on your list that bring you joy.