-
London farewells: Food, film and the future of work
My last week in London was a whirl of farewells and final thises and thats before I hopped into my minicab back to Heathrow and leapt skyward in unexpected luxury – bumped up to business class by my friends at British Airways thank you thank you – and landed in calm clear weather in Vancouver, which held off on the rain, sleet and snow until I was tucked up into bed.It was a week of nice food in London too. Still buzzing after the Copenhagen jaunt and the pleasures of the poetry workshop in Cambridge, I joined dear friends to tuck into a most excellent Sunday lunch at Great Queen Street in Holborn.
The pot roasted pheasant with poached quince looked (and tasted) wonderful but oh dear I’d just had pheasant (how often do I have the chance to say that?) so after a few reversals I opted for baked cod and spinach, which was studded with garlic and chili and was a delight, although I did think it was just barely overcooked, by a fish’s whisker. I was afforded a morsel of the chicken pot pie on the other side of the table that satisfied my curiosity on that score (chervil in the crust we thought? very nice touch).But there was much excitement to follow on the dessert menu: each item more delicious than the next. I had the prune and almond tart, which was soft and nutty and chewy where it should be and had a fine crunchy and slightly caramelly crust. Even so my envious fork went round and round the table. The salt creme caramel was exquisite: a silky yellow custard standing softly within its warm and salty caramel pashmina; the baked cheesecake light and lemony with a surprising and effective fruit confit alongside, and the beignets… ah the beignets. Featherlight and warm, faintly crunchy on the outside, tender on the inside. Why would anyone waste their money on donuts when they can have beignets with raspberry coulis here?
So all in all it was a great introduction for me to this restaurant – and an exceptional waiter who doted knowledgeably without being intrusive, and who had some friendly insights on the opera my dining companions were off to see. Manly yes, but I like it too.
Monday was spent mostly packing and trying out my new toy, a suitcase scale, which will be invaluable on my future travels.
Monday evening I went to The School of Life where I promptly undid all my careful work packing and weighing by losing my head in the gift/book shop. My new treasures include a beautiful hardcover copy of The Flavour Thesaurus: Pairings, recipes and ideas for the creative cook, entertainingly written by Niki Segnit, which is arranged by ingredient and offers, well, just what it says on the label. But I was there for a class – the only one I could fit into my schedule – called How to Find a Job You Love. At my stage of life I had thought through a lot of what was covered, and suspect I may have my perfect job (though I have yet to work out how to make it pay!) but this topic is a winner and the subsequent offerings are selling like hotcakes in these risky times. There were a fair number of people present who’d been made redundant, and some who were stuck in unrewarding jobs, as well as a few who were looking to round out their part time positions with something meaningful. I liked the historical and sociological context that David Baker brought to the session, the exercises were useful and we were well fed and watered as well.Tuesday I went to see The Iron Lady, which was as I’d expected well acted and cast (except for Jim Broadbent who never convinced me he was Denis) but I thought disappointing from its current day setting and the brevity of the flashbacks into Thatcher’s time. I didn’t feel I got much more insight into those years – and the trump card had already been played a few days before when 1981 cabinet papers were released that cast new light on old questions.
Anyway we mulled all this over a few Irish rock oysters at Pescatori, followed in my case by a nice octopus salad (which did make me pine for Parma, but was good in a different way, a kind of spin on salade nicoise, with potatoes and green beans rounding it out). I confess that the treat of the day for me was a glass of Passito di Panterellia, which is quite simply heaven in a glass, and I savoured every drop.Wednesday was another lunch with dear friends and former neighbours, and a bit more folding, rolling, shoving, kneeling, sweating and swearing over suitcases. Thursday yet another lunch with dear friends and poets and a final poetry workshop. And Friday the s
un shone on the parrots, the Mahonia japonica (not to be confused with the Mahonia aquifolium – Oregon Grape) shared its wintry perfume as we passed by on our way to a farewell lunch at Tarantella where the Melanzane parmigiana and Spaghetti alla vongole were both excellent. And all too soon, the cab driver was there and my Euro-time was over… for now. -
Copenhagen to Cambridge
How quickly five Danish days can whistle away. I landed on Monday and spent a rainy Tuesday in the Nationalmuseet (National Museum) looking at treasures of prehistoric Denmark, having first been fortified by a deliciouslunch of smoked sausages in the museum cafe. The most moving exhibits to me were the bog people, and the oak coffins made from hollowed-out whole tree trunks, all of them behind immaculately clean glass, dimly lit and fully labelled.On Wednesday I tackled two places: the wonderful Rundetårn (Round Tower) which gives one a brisk, stepless walk up to a viewing platform 39 metres above street level, where we were battered by wind but treated to bright views of Copenhagen. The bellroom has been partially restored and the library turned into a shop, cafe and art centre where visitors can try their hand at making art in response to the visit, as various school classes had done on my visit.
From there I proceeded through the winding streets towards the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek. The wind was starting to bring some rain with it, and when I paused to check my bearings I noticed a cafe below street level, so I stepped inside just before the rain descended in force, by which time I was tucking into a most delicious lunch of smoked eel and scrambled egg on rye bread in the warm and friendly Tivolihallen. It was so good I went on eating and had some very tasty lamb meatballs with creamed spinach.
I had a hasty visit to the Glyptotek as time was ticking on, but did enjoy my fleeting tour of the ancient art – Etruscan, Greek, Roman and Egyptian all well represented. I was sorry to have missed the Gaugins, Rodins and Munches that were lurking upstairs, but I did love the courtyard. I trudged back along Kampmannsgade into Frederiksberg where I was staying, and later dined at Ambrosias Have (Ambrosia’s kitchen), which offered a fine vegetarian buffet from its cafe adjoining a yoga centre.
On Thursday the storm was lashing down as we stumbled about in search of the Freiheitsmuseum (Museum of the Danish Resistance) which turned out to be closer than
we’d thought. An excellent museum this, with film and audio and nicely arranged displays that gave a feel for the everyday life into which the German occupation came, as well as clothing and objects relating to the Danish resistance movement and the German prison camps where Danes were imprisoned and killed – in lesser numbers than some other groups and nationalities.Next stop was the extraordinary David Collection where the top two floors of Islamic art and history are absolutely stunning and beautifully presented. It’s a private museum, but so
well funded that admission is free (as it was for the National and Resistance museums). All that gawping makes one work up quite an appetite for sild (herring) which we satisfied at Aamans smart little cafe. We had two kinds of herring: one was marinated and the other curried, which curiously seems to be one of the characteristic flavourings for this fish. I was told that Christmas lunches can feature as many as a dozen different styles of herring: marinated, curried, pickled, fried, smoked… And before long we were on the road to Rungsted where Karen Blixen Museet waited in the rain. We whirled around the rooms in which she wrote and entertained, and admired the drawings and paintings she’d left with her estate where the Danish Academy – which she co-founded – still meets in accordance with her wishes. And that was about all I had time to do on this trip, other than to hope that I will be able to return for another look (preferably not during a winter gale!)
I flew back to London on Friday afternoon and rose bright and early (or more accurately in the dark at 5am) Saturday morning to catch a train to Cambridge, where I arrived as the sun was rising. I made my way to the Fitzwilliam Museum where the hugely popular Vermeer’s Women: Secrets & Silence exhibition was entering its final week. Happily I had managed to squeak onto a poetry workshop led by Tamar Yoseloff which she had cleverly arranged with the museum’s educational department so that we could have a precious half hour alone with the paintings. Which were wonderful (only four were Vermeers; the rest were by his contemporaries) and the more so since we’d had some quiet time with them before the hordes crowded and elbowed their way through (there were 25 minute queues by the time we left). We discussed some poems inspired by the paintings (including this Derek Mahon number) and then marched across town for some another private viewing at Kettle’s Yard, a uniquely domestic setting for an art museum, where we spent some time writing and discussing before hopping back on the train to London.
Rundetårn
-
Devonshire to Denmark
I find myself in Copenhagen this evening, where it is calm and mild, although we are promised winds and rain for the morrow.And it is a new year! I once heard it said that what you do on New Year’s Eve you will do all through the year, and so I thought to hedge my bets I’d return to the Devonshire Arms and eat a lovely meal in hopes this will set a suitable tone.
We commenced with potted Suffolk ham hock and very fine toasted sourdough, accompanied by a few darling cornichons and pickled onions, and a pear and Cheshire blue cheese salad sprinkled with toasted pine nuts. We moved smoothly on to a melting featherblade of beef with herbed dumplings. kale mash and tiny roast onions. Thus fortified we were able to take a calm, clear look at the desserts which all sounded spectacular. One of the finest was a hot chocolate pudding with salt caramel ice cream. Just to make sure the chef had chosen the right ice cream to go with this (he had, oh yes he had) we checked out the chocolate and ginger flavours as well, bathing them in warm chocolate sauce for good measure. If this is to be my fate in 2012, bring it on.
Latest Posts
- Sublime
- Good weather for reading
- The world, the world
- Sublime launch!
- Planet Earth Poetry – Readings by Volunteers, Victoria 2026
- Poetry at the Goldfinch
Aldeburgh Poetry Festival Barny Haughton BBC BC poets Berkswell blackberries Black Stilt Bologna book launch Borough Market Carlo Petrini Catalonia Cyrus Todiwala dairy Daunt's Books Dijon Edinburgh Fanny Bay Feast of Fields Food and Morality food history food journalism Jenna Butler lardo Malahat Review Michael Pollan Okanagan olive oil tasting olive trees Omnivore's Dilemma Our Food Our Future Oxford Parmigiano-Reggiano Planet Earth Poetry poetry poetry readings Poetry videos prosciutto salumi Sean O'Brien Suffolk ticks Wendy Morton Wired Writing Yvonne Blomer
In her latest collection, Rhona McAdam navigates the dark places of human movement through the earth and the exquisite intricacies lingering in backyard gardens and farmlands populated by insects and pollinators, all the while returning to the body, to the tune of staccato beats and the newly discovered symmetries within the human heart.
“…A beautiful, filling collection, Larder is a set of poems to read at the change of the seasons, to appreciate alongside a good meal, and to remind yourself of the beauty in everything, even the things you may not appreciate before opening McAdam’s collection….”
Rhona McAdam is a writer, poet, editor, and Registered Holistic Nutritionist with a Master’s in Food Culture from Italy and a deep-rooted passion for ecology and urban agriculture. Her work spans corporate and technical writing to poetry and creative nonfiction, often exploring the vital links between what we eat and how we live. Based in Victoria, BC, and available via Zoom, Rhona is always open to new writing commissions, readings, or workshops on nutrition and the culinary arts.
