Living in London

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In our continuing quest to see all of England, not just the posh parts of London, we found ourselves on the Isle of Wight this past bank holiday weekend. Why do we keep signing up for these little mini-vacations?  Why are we not off in Barcelona or on a beach in Sardinia like all the other Brits? It wasn’t a bad weekend . . . it just wasn’t that remarkable. 

We drove from London – five hours of bumper-to-bumper carriage way to the car ferry, a 35 minute ride across the water, then another hour of driving – to get to a lovely, two star, amateurish-run hotel high above the beach.  It felt like all five stories were clinging to the cliff with their fingernails and showing every sign that they won’t be hanging there much longer (the cracks in the wall and the leaning stairwell were alarming). 

We had some moderately successful meals, a delightful long walk along the coast and a pleasant stroll through the botanical gardens. Best of all, we caught up on some serious reading. 

The most amazing thing was watching the children playing in the surf. The temperature was in the mid 60's (18 C) and just because the sun was shining a number of children were frolicking in the water as if they were in the Bahamas. It was fun trying to figure out what draws people to the beach at the slightest whiff of sunshine (18 C at best, brisk wind, most people huddled in the little special-built shelters).

Our colleagues were mildly perplexed by our decision to come to the Isle of Wight for this weekend; and now that its over, so are we!

Okay we know we go on and on about this  . . .
but Kensington is an amazing place. We have never had this kind of easy access (3 blocks away) to such a beautiful and inspiring park.

Recently it was a spring-day-to-end-all-spring-days and the walk in the park was sublime. We took a bunch of pictures with our little Canon Powershot and put together a slide show.

Most of these photos were taken along the Queens Walk. Enjoy!

Yesterday we ventured out for our second try at the Sunday Roast experience. We went to one of our “locals,” a pub called the Abingdon and realized something significant – Sunday is a madhouse at most restaurants here, with many group and family outings. This was confirmed by our waiter who urged us to return under more tranquil weekday conditions. We will do a proper restaurant review at that time.

For now, the beef, potatoes, and green vegetables were all quite satisfying. However, the highlight of the day was the opportunity to solve a long running mystery for us involving the British concept of pudding.

The menu stated that the dinner came with Yorkshire Pudding. To our puzzlement, when the entree arrived, there was no "pudding" in sight. There was, however, something that Americans would call a popover. It was a bowl-shaped puffy pastry filled with a scoop of gravy. Is that it?

According to Answers.com, we were indeed enjoying Yorkshire pudding.

Yorkshire pudding . . . is like a cross between a Popover and a Souffle; and not at all like a pudding. It's made with a batter of eggs, milk and flour, baked in beef drippings until puffy, crisp and golden brown. It may be prepared in a shallow baking dish, muffin tins or other small containers, or in the same pan as the roast. Like a hot souffle, Yorkshire pudding will deflate shortly after it's removed from the oven. This specialty takes its name from England's northern county of Yorkshire.

Here is a recipe for Yorkshire pudding.

We have one more Sunday roast is scheduled, and then I think we will have had our fill of tradition and will move on to more exciting menu items.