#9 - First Day (aka Orientation) - 31 March 2011

So sleepy...I didn't sleep much last night because I was afraid I might oversleep, but am paying the price for it now.

Orientation
Today was orientation at the school.  We got our uniforms, knife kits, ID cards and security swipes.  I think they didn't want to overload us with information, so classes don't actually start until tomorrow (medium day - only 6 hours).  We have 2 - 3 days a week where we are there for 9 hours of class and it looks like we have at least 2 Saturdays a month as well.  This Saturday we have class from 9-4 (slight break - they usually start at 8am) with an exam at the end of the day.  We have to pass it in order to be able to continue the course - food safety.  I guess it's a bad look if we all kill each other off during the course - such bad PR!

As with the first day of class anywhere, there was the usual admin (attendance policy, assessments, filling out your contact details, fiddling with your combination lock for the locker) and some extra admin (checking we had all pieces of our uniform, trying not to die laughing at each other in our uniforms - more on that later) and a practice fire drill.  The fire drill had chefs herding their their groups of orientees (???) down whichever fire stairs were nearest.  All I could think of was how much we all resembled what I imagined the line of ducklings behind Konrad Lorenz must have looked like.  There just happened to be many more of us milling around outside while the chefs counted noses.

Schedule

April is a bit messed up - we get the entire Easter weekend but the royal wedding doesn't keep us from having class that Saturday.  I'm sure it will be a lovely wedding but it really hasn't helped us because we still have to go to class that long weekend.  So much for taking off the 4 days and escaping London.  Maybe I will just make sure I have done grocery shopping (or saved food from class) and hide in the apartment with a good book...

Unfortunately the schedule only goes to the end of this session, so all I know about late June is that we have our first day of the next session on 24 June.  This session ends on 22 June so we have a whole day between terms.  There are a few days where nothing is scheduled so I am hoping that there will be a few unofficial days off , in which case I will make up for missing the second April long weekend and possibly go somewhere.

For the moment, any thoughts of travel (with possibly the exception of the Easter long weekend) have been put on hold.  As far as I can see, we don't have a break until September 9 - September (30?)...

Pretty knives

There is a man at the Bond Street Tube station who engraves everyone's knives and other equipment (except a couple of plastic scraper / spatulas).  He was a bit overwhelmed when 7 girls presented themselves with their sets at the same time.  Luckily TN and I managed to beat the rush so my knives and things will be ready for tomorrow's class.  We don't start until the afternoon (3-9pm) so I even have time to go to ballet in the morning and then have a little nap before class.

I am looking forward to learning - all these important basics.  I think we actually put hands to knives on Monday - tomorrow is demonstrations only and I have no idea what Saturday entails but it is some sort of public health thing so they are bringing in outside lecturers from some government agency to do it.  I've been told that carrying our knife kits around without a lock counts as carrying a concealed weapon.  Or in this case, multiple concealed weapons?  But they are so pretty!  Surely weapons aren't supposed to be pretty?  I'm also wondering what knife skills we will learn in the basic Patisserie - other than cutting croissants (which is in the intermediate course, I think) I don't know what we would be cutting up for bread-ish type things.

Wish us good luck!  My current aim is to successfully finish the whole Grand Diplome course AND to avoid food poisoning - causing it or catching it.

Class members

It hasn't been confirmed yet, but it looks like our Cuisine chef will be Chef FJ, who took care of the latter part of orientation today.  There are five (I think) French chefs teaching various modules, plus a Canadian, an Irish and a couple of others.  I thought there would be more male students, but in our group, there is only one man (and he is doing Patisserie only).  The other group seems to have 3 men.  Although they registered about 80 students today, it appears that 20 of us are doing the Grand Diplome, so we have been allocated evenly between two chefs.
My class doesn't seem to have anyone who is already a professional chef - whew!  It's stressful if you think you are the one holding up the whole class.  That could still happen of course, but chances are less than if everyone had already worked in professional kitchens.

Uniforms (aka NOT the reason why I chose to go to cooking school)

We tried on our uniforms in the locker rooms downstairs between the morning and afternoon orientation sessions.  The pants are high waisted, houndstooth (navy blue and white) with elastic at the back.  Sounds oh-so-fresh-off-the-runways of Paris, non?  Let's just say that there is room enough to wear an adult diaper and two sofa cushions in the pants and still have room left over.  And they're long - I think many of us will end up just rolling up the legs because we need to wear them to all lectures/demonstrations/practical classes from tomorrow on.  We are allowed one opportunity to enter class missing an element of the uniform.  (I've never seen anyone wearing the neckerchief.)  After that, we are not allowed to come in and we are marked as absent.  If you miss a demo, you are not allowed to go to the prac (= 2 absences).  5 absences for cuisine = fail that course (i.e. basic cuisine).

No, we're not in kindergarten - but they are trying to teach us to be professional.  And punctual...punctuality is not my strong suit, especially since I stopped wearing a watch.  We are not allowed to wear watches in class.  So I now leave half an hour to get to class, even though class is 7 minutes' walk down the street.  I should say, I will try to leave half an hour before class.

So - we have covered the ridiculous pants.  The jackets - look good on some, look stupid on others.  I belong to the latter category.  TN and I are both short, with correspondingly short limbs.  This means that you can't see our hands when the jacket sleeves are full length.  Following the examples of the chefs, I think we can also roll these up and not bother with alterations.  Altering cuffs take time.

Next - the hats.  Ah the hats - they actually look good on some of the girls with their hair down.  They look good on no on with their hair up.  We all have to have our hair up (if it is longer than shoulder length) and wear a hairnet.  Nightmare visions of tuckshop ladies (cafeteria ladies for us Americans) have been dancing in my head since I read about the hair nets about a year ago, especially once the tuckshop lady had been explained to me.

Obviously none of us will be trying to look anything more or less than ridiculous.  The kitchen is not the place for fashion.  Or makeup.  or jewellery.  Or perfume.  My Dad would love it...I have to say, they are all sensible rules.  Plus, no amount of anything is going to lessen the effect of those hats and those pants...

People have asked why no photos of the uniform, to which I answer - because vanity knows no bounds!  Any lofty idea I ever had about not being vain (and let's face it, who could ever claim to be so, honestly?) have been brutally squashed on confronting the image in the mirror with a hat on its head.  I did say that I was going to share the good, the bad and the ugly.  This is none of those things so I feel no guilt in witholding pictures.  Who said you should always leave them wanting more?

Lastly...

The kitchen is a dangerous place.  I didn't tell them I am clumsy - but I have a cut on my thumb and I have no idea how it got there.  I don't remember using any knives yesterday and today at the engravers, the man showed us our toolkit and all the knives remained in their coverings.

The school says that we must notify the chef of any injury, especially if there is blood - so that they can assess whether we need to be sent to the emergency room.  They must be used to it - in addition to the war stories, they listed 4 - or was it 6? - emergency rooms in the near-ish area.  Thank goodness I already registered for health insurance!  Let's see - NHS:  check.  Private health insurance:  check.  Travel insurance (from Australia for this entire trip):  check.  They can all argue about who's paying for what.

In the meantime, um, Chef?  My finger wasn't bleeding so I didn't tell you about that cut on my left thumb, but when I went to dice the carrot...where did you say the band aids were again?  I promise, I didn't have any wine at lunch...

8 - Please sir, can I have some more?

I'm not quite sure how another whole week has almost elapsed since the last post.  I'm trying to remember what I did last week and am having a hard time remembering...

A couple of confusing things about London
Crooked streets
I was walking down Regent Street on Friday night, looking for the nearest Asian grocery store.  Ok it's not Chinatown but I was looking for some specific things.  So everything was good until I reached Picadilly Circus, which by the way, would have been faster if I hadn't gotten caught up in the crazy lines outside the Apple store.  There were ropes and security guards - I assume it was for the iPad 2 or something else that I similarly don't understand.  But I digress - the confusion...

At Picadilly Circus Regent Street abruptly came to an end.  I knew it had to continue because it said so, right there on the map.  On the other hand, I haven't figured out why it continues at a right angle from where it ended...the street that I thought should be Regent Street was something else (Shaftsbury Road?) and then there was another street next to that - also not the rest of Regent Street.  I eventually walked into a souvenir store and asked for directions, reasoning that since I wasn't trying to find a rival store, they would be happy to give directions.  They were very helpful and I eventually found my way.

Tipping
And another thing - the 12% discretionary charge - does that mean we can elect not to pay it?  I always ask now if service is included.  A great tip I got (pun not intended) from KP - if the service was really good, have them take the charge off the bill and give the tip in cash.  I didn't know you could do that - but apparently it's code although I've unfortunately forgotten the exact wording for it.

Bad coffee
Why?  You can find good coffee - really good coffee even - but you have to look for it.  There are some really good coffee places but generally it's been reliably bad.  No wonder Starbucks is doing so well.  I have considered going there out of sheer desperation because the place down the street doesn't do takeaway coffee and the next closest one I know of is about 15 minutes' walk away.  Fine if you're out for a stroll on a lazy morning but not good if you're in a rush and needing the morning cup.

Please sir, can I have some more?
Cupboard staples in hand (30 minutes, 60 pounds and a dinner later) I took the tube.  The thing with dinner however, was that it was (supposedly) healthy and now I was craving something sweet.  And there is this place just downstairs and a few doors down which had some interesting looking desserts.  So I called Langan's Bistro and asked them if they did take away.  The man said, "yes, we do.  Do you have a plate?"  I said I did and he told me to bring it with me.  It occurred to me, as I went downstairs, plate in hand, that it might appear to the casual observer that perhaps I looked like I was going to get fed.  Which I was, but this somehow seemed a bit...I don't know.

The point is, it obviously occurred to someone else.  I walked into the Bistro and the first thing I heard from a patron was "Please sir, can I have some more?"  His wife thought it was hilarious.  Of course it was  a good talking point as we debated whether I should get the sticky toffee pudding or Mrs Langan's chocolate cake.  It turned out that they didn't have the toffee pudding so I got the cake.   The man was happy to discover that the Bistro does takeaway (they don't really, I don't think).  We also had the discussion about crooked Regent Street - he asked how I eventually found my way and I told him I had stopped and asked for directions.  He looked confused.  I was very tempted to tell him that it was a concept with which most men of my acquaintance are not familiar, but managed to throttle the urge.

So - the cake...it was perfect - fluffy but not dry and not too sweet.  So many times a dessert gets ruined by all the sugar they put in it, but this was just that little bit less sweet which meant I could eat the whole thing.

But it was missing something...and then I got to the middle.

I am ashamed to admit that I actually licked the sauce that got onto the foil which the restaurant wrapped over the plate for the 30 feet between there and my place.  I wasn't going to write that down, but I did say that you would get the good, the bad and the ugly.  I'm not sure where on that scale licking the cover goes...

Other things I did in the last week (the ones I remember anyway)

• Went to several ballet classes;
• Went to the bookstore where I know I spent way too much - punctuated by the fact that they didn't give me a plastic or paper bag - they gave me a fabric tote with their name on it.  Apparently the book addiction was only in hiding...appropriately enough, I also picked up a book called "I remember nothing" by Nora Ephron (she wrote quite a few movies - you know, When Harry Met Sally, You got Mail, etc. etc.) and am almost finished with 2 of the however many books I bought; intend to donate the books to Oxfam to sell discounted at the end of the year (parting is such sweet sorrow...);
• Went to the Sunday Market behind Waitrose where I came to the conclusion that I have a whole year where I can organise a really good Sunday dinner and I don't have to cook because I can buy stuff there...like the home made pasta (ok, you have to boil water, but still), or the beef ragout (same) - and also the usual suspects in a farmers market (several different cheese stalls, bakery stalls, free range butchers, flowers, herbs, organic juices, a fresh fish guy - that's not a usual suspect);
• Bought more cleaning products and did all the floors in my apartment; and lots of cleaning;
• Cooked my first dinner at home (all ingredients courtesy of the market) - although, see above re Sunday Market;
• Found good coffee at last;
• Walked around the Marylebone Road, West End, Fitzrovia parts of town (and decided that Marylebone Road was too crowded);
• Made plans to catch up with various people;
• Remembered to set the clocks forward for daylight savings, although trying to remember what time it is where takes a little extra thought these days, especially since I don't know when Australia and the US switch...

In a couple of hours I am meeting NT and TN at Oxford Circus for dinner.  We had to specify this time to avoid a repeat of the last time NT and I met.  Hopefully this time it will be a little less of the blind leading the blinder - there are quite a few places in the area so I am hoping we can just stumble into somewhere good.  Wish us luck!

By the by, MS - haven't made it to the British Museum on this trip yet.  Last year when I went, people kept touching exhibits and I wanted to tell them not to.  Isn't that the security guard's job?  Or are they just there to keep people from carrying off the enormous sarcophagi and stone statues?  I may give it a try on Wednesday morning after coffee with a cousin who lives here...and it's near quite a few good coffee places (so I've heard)  for later in the day...

Oh and MR - thanks for the link to Young and Foodish.  I've spent a couple of hours trawling the site (coffee to begin with, but I've been hooked by other things as well...)

#7 - Doha, Qatar

One of the reasons I had originally settled on London to do my course (rather than Paris) was that I was counting on ACP and KP as primary guinea pigs.  Events have somehow forced us to re-evaluate our plan, mainly because an exciting work opportunity came up for my lovely friends who are currently in Doha.  I had to look it up when ACP told me that there was a possibility that they would be going there for six months.

After so efficiently getting the essentials in London (you know, flat, banking, mobile phone, laundry detergent, paper towels) I then booked myself on a holiday, whoops sorry, visit, to see my friends.  There was a travel advisory on the British Airways website about Bahrain when I went to check in online, but since I was only flying through, I thought it should be fine.

In which I learn that you should probably pay attention to travel advisories (and that Mexico City can be dangerous)...

The journey started a bit confusingly.  I had forgotten that the Heathrow Express has a certain schedule, but that wasn't a problem as I had built in enough time to account for such little slippages.  My bags were almost empty (for which I would later be grateful, but I'll get to that) and I followed the signs all the way through bag drop and security.  My immigration check was done at the counter where I dropped my bag - it did make me wonder why everyone else seemed to have a more inefficient system.

A white fog had descended on London and I was concerned flights might be delayed.  That is, until I saw planes landing in it.  Apparently this happens a lot and they are very experienced at taking off and landing in it.  The ride from the terminal/gate to the actual plane took about 5 - 10 minutes.  I finally saw why they close the flight a while before it is scheduled to leave - they have to drive you to the back of beyond somewhere, where they parked the plane.  We ascended roll-away stairs, which I am more used to seeing next to little inter-island propeller planes, not a 747-400 jumbo jet.  I hope I got that right - it sounds so much like I know what I'm talking about...

It turned out that the very nice fellow sitting two seats to my right was from Mexico City and we bonded over the rollaway stairs we had just walked up in order to board.  The usual conversation came up (the where are you from/what do you do/is this business or pleasure...).  NC is a journalist for the Wall Street Journal and he was on his way to cover the situation in Bahrain.  I suppose this is when you normally start to see flags, but...instead, we just chatted away.  I asked a lot of questions about what it was like in Mexico City, how he had gotten into journalism, how his girlfriend and parents felt about him going somewhere dangerous and how they deal with it and what he was expecting to see in Bahrain.  There was also a succinct summary of the situation in Bahrain and Libya, but unfortunately I started to fall asleep and have jumbled it all up in my mind.  I can't give you a rundown of his analysis because I am quite sure that nothing I write would be accurate.

We landed in Bahrain kind of on time - there had been a delay in Heathrow but I'm not sure what it was.  The landing was fine, but there was a problem with taxiing to the gate.  During the flight from Heathrow to Bahrain, and curfew had been declared.  No lights and driving was only allowed in limited areas between 4pm and 4am.  We arrived at about 9pm local time and the airport is in one of the affected areas.  Apparently you need the whichever guidance system and lights to get to the gate, neither of which were available.  At one point it sounded like the Captain was going to try to get us to the gate anyway, but then came the announcement that there was a jetty (the jetway?) which was broken and blocking our access to the terminal.

I wished NC luck on getting to his hotel as there was no telling whether it was in one of the blocked areas (in which case he would have to find alternate accomodation or sleep in the terminal for another 7 hours).  Then there was a further delay - the passenger manifest said that there were supposed to be X passengers on the plane.  They had counted noses and come up with X+1.  And the numbers kept changing.  We passengers were grumbling, wondering how hard could it be to count noses, especially since it seemed that they were getting stuck around 32 and 34 after a couple of counts.  That was before we found out people were going to the bathroom and moving around generally, which does make it a bit harder to get an accurate count.  Eventually they checked everyone's tickets (some of them several times) and decided there was a typo on the manifest.  Time to realisation:  30 minutes...

Doha - finally!
I was lucky enough to be collected at the airport by KP.  ACP had peacefully gone to sleep in the knowledge that she would have to wake up at "stupid o'clock" in the morning to get into work.  Immigration, customs and baggage claim were all fast - I think the payment for the visa may have been the most time consuming portion of the final part of the trip.  There were a couple of bad hours after arrival when I checked the BA website (after the Bahrain leg, I just needed to check).  You can look up information by flight number.  The message for my flight to London leaving Sunday night was "cancelled".  NOOO!!!!  It eventually got sorted out, but there were several emails and telephone calls with BA in Doha.  Service:  they say yes, then do nothing, or can't help, or don't kow, or...well you get the idea.

KP and ACP have been allocated a serviced apartment at the W Hotel.  The W's "Whatever/Whenever" service can, according to reports, leave a little to be desired.  I suggested that perhaps the Whatever portion was the California Valley Girl version and the Whenever referred to whenever they got around to it.  Personally I didn't see any of the unhelpfulness, but on the other hand KP and ACP were some of the world's best hosts and I didn't want or need anything from the hotel so I didn't really test its WW service.  It certainly couldn't be less satisfying than that of BA's ground office.  Perhaps if I had asked the hotel for a seeing eye camel...

Most of Doha is still under construction.  I was told that very few of the modern buildings were more than 4 or 5 years old.  There are spaces where you see what I am guessing to be the Doha version of MacMansions surrounded by other MacMansions and then piles of dirt/rocks where they are excavating for the next building.  There are buildings in various stages of construction almost everywhere, scaffolding and the structural bits in view and workers dressed in blue coveralls swarming around them.

Day 1 (aka Thursday, Doha's version of Friday)

Museum of Islamic Art and Doha

I have been asked to post pictures with the posts, so this post is my first try.  The desert winds mean that Doha feels quite dry - I was drinking a lot of water and as you know, that means it has to have somewhere to go.  KP and I were going to take a walk after we met ACP for lunch on my first day (Thursday) in Doha.  The solution to the dilemma was quite easy.  There was a building right next to the beginning of our walk.

Obviously my picture doesn't do it justice...

Souk Waqif

Being so new to the area, ACP and KP had saved a lot of the touristy things to do with me.  Case in point:  the souk.  At night it's surprisingly cold, something I hadn't expected because I think, Arabian peninsula, desert, sand, sun, hot...

We went and had a walk around.  It appears that the souk has been designed a little bit like the streets in Vietnam - for example, this was the cute baby animal section.  I'm just hoping it's not like China where these are actually meant to be dinner...
  

 Possibly hatched from dyed Easter eggs...

And bunnies...

We picked up a bunch of spices (I couldn't resist the saffron threads - I'm sure I'll be able to use them at some point this year - or the cumin, mixed curry...my bag is now airing out on top of a closet in London) then we got some dinner.

Our not-yummy dinner at Tajine

In all fairness, the Time Out review said cheap and cheerful and told us to try the camel (we didn't).  It didn't promise that dinner would be delicious.  The dips and starters were actually quite good.  The disappointment was in the mains.  We're convinced KP's unhappy stomach was from the meatballs (maybe they were camel!) but who knows.

Day 2 (aka Friday) started with an attempt at an enormous brunch at the hotel.  I was told that it is the big thing to do on Fridays, as Doha keeps to a Sunday to Thursday work week, in order to observe the Friday sabbath.  Brunch officially opened at 12pm.  Confused looks all around - that's lunch time.  We weren't game enough to tell the hotel that brunch means Breakfast/Lunch and that usually they start a bit earlier.  So we went grocery shopping first, to get sundries for the desert the next day and also all the bits and pieces you end up needing.  Carrefours is not in the Lonely Planet - I suppose grocery stores are not considered to be tourist attractions.  It was enormous - Costco sized venue but normal sized products, selling everything from groceries to homewares and electronics.  Hm, sounds more and more like Costco as I describe it...

So after the grocery shopping, we hopped downstairs and pigged out.  I skipped dessert - you have to pass the tables on the way in so it was an easy call once I saw the oysters, sushi, salad bar (with a Caesar salad station) and all the cooked foods (some kind of mixed grill with saffron rice, steak, fish) and your usual suspects for those who wanted roast and 3 veg.  ACP said the desserts were really good.  We all liked the sushi and oysters with the various accompaniments (shot of tomato/gazpacho, shallot dressing, lemon and a few others) and ended up eating much more than would be sensible.  Any pretence at restraint was thrown to the winds when someone (KP?) made the brilliant suggestion that we should have a siesta after lunch.  Capital, old fellow!  I don't have any pictures because I left my camera upstairs.

The Museum of Islamic Art didn't open until 4pm, so we all headed there after we recovered from the effects of too much food.  The outside is unmistakeable and although not quite as interesting as the Louvre, inside it invited you to keep looking at it for a while.  It made a lot more sense after reading about the symmetry, geometric shapes and shapes from nature from various cultures which all influenced Islamic art in their own ways.

   

Eventually we all faded and headed back to their place.  General consensus was that we would be happy to have a quiet night in.  Dinner was Heinz baked beans on toast.  I am not a fan of beans, so this didn't sound super exciting.  However, when in Rome...all I can say is that once you add the cheese and pepper, it turns it into a completely different dish.  Where has this been all my life?  Even better, this was accompanied by movie night - the Bourne Supremacy, and because there was an issue with the DVD player, popcorn from the hotel.

Day 3 / Saturday
Started early.  We were heading out to the desert in a couple of cars, to the inland sea.  KP had shown it to me on a map on my first night.  We were also going to see Saudi Arabia - although apparently that depends on from whose point of view you delineate the geographical barriers.  We were three per car and Amin, who knew the desert and was going to guide us, on his dirt bike.  Amin and JA were our hosts.  We left the main road after passing a large industrial area, then started driving over dunes, having first let a lot of air out of the tires.

I was just excited that we were heading to the beach because London had been cold - 11/12C when I left, which is fine, but the 1/2C at night was a bit brutal.  We caught some air in the Jeep and generally chatted away.  Amin had driven the initial distance from the city to the turnoff where everything turned into dunes and let us know in no uncertain terms that he was happy to miss any further discussions about 80s fashion.

After an hour or so of driving over dunes and the "road" so called for the black rubber streaks left behind on the packed sand in areas where there was relatively high traffic, we arrived at our destination.

We were due to spend the entire day here, so out came the shandy mix (beer and Sprite/Miranda/lemonade), snacks were later.

The water was cold - too cold for me to jump in, but I was assured that the week before, it had been quite pleasant.  You did eventually get used to the temperature.  Well, it's either used to it or you went numb and no longer felt it - so the same, really.  There was also a plan that we would dig for some clams and KP would make spaghetti vongole for dinner that night.  Good plan!  Only thing was the initial search didn't really result with much in the way of dinner ingredients.  It may only have been that the tide was too high - a couple of hours later there were quite a few.  I found the first ones purely by chance.  ACP and KP told me that they could actually see them sticking out of the sand, so I went and looked.  You can!

KP cooked that night - spaghetti vongole - but I don't have pictures because we were so greedy that we all dug in as soon as the food hit the table.  I had an instant where I thought I should get the camera, but decided against it as I didn't want my pasta to get cold.  I'm sure you understand...

Day 4 / Sunday

ACP had to go to work...so KP and I amused ourselves by going to the Museum of Modern Art.  It turns out that it is NOT at Education City (where several well-known universities apparently have a campus).  It is off the main highway - you turn off and you wonder if you are going in the right direction.  There was an outside exhibit which seemed to allow touching, judging from the flyers handed out to families with children.  Although in that case, I'm not sure why I got one...there were some really interesting paintings and sculptures - KP said that it may be a matter of "if you build it they will come".

We had lunch at the Villagio (mall) which served as an example of the excess which you can see next to the poverty.  A taxi driver might be lucky to earn the equivalent of $300 in a month - not enough for him to qualify to bring his family over from Erytrea.  Those who are wealthy might spend that much on a single meal, more if they have it with champagne.  Yes I know - the country is Muslim but there is a way to get around the alcohol thing, apparently.  This place had a canal inside - yes, you read that correctly and I wrote it correctly - and high end fashion labels.  There are some that I couldn't tell you one way or the other, but I assume they are based on the stores next to them.

Also - there's a Dean and Deluca there.  I suppose if I can't get over to New York...for those of you based in Sydney and haven't been to a D&D, think of it as Jones the Grocer or any of those gourmet deli/grocery stores.  We had lunch at D&D, then collected ACP from work before heading back to their place for some relaxed hanging out.  There was a late afternoon walk along the Corniche (the crescent walkway which extends from the Museum of Islamic Art down to a garishly lit restaurant which has a giant statue of an oryx which has a cute face but is carrying what looks like a large cudgel.  Possibly an illustration of Roosevelt's "walk softly but carry a big stick"...

We finished our walk just in time to make it to dinner, a little Turkish place we found on TripAdvisor.  KP and ACP were excited because generally you don't see all positive reviews when you look a place up (not even Michelin starred ones).  We found it - it's not super easy to find but it was worth it.  Really good food, quite quick and after some of the sky-high prices at hotels, a welcome break for the wallet.  We ate in a family room because there were two females - apparently this is a common practice so that women can eat in restaurants with their menfolk but away from the prying eyes of others.

Having encountered some of the unabashed staring, I was actually a little glad for this.  ACP noted that the men stare because they women are about 30 - 40% of the population, many are covered up and these guys have been away from their families for extended periods of time.  Also, it's illegal to have sex unless you are married.  I'm not quite sure on what the position is if you are married but you are sleeping with someone who is not your spouse.  Frowned on, most likely.  I forgot to tell you, you're not meant to bring in alcohol or porn through customs.  Lucky the most risque thing I had packed were the two jars of Vegemite and my swimsuits for the beach (which was deserted - no one there but us so no need to worry about offending the locals).

Leaving Doha

Had to wake up at stupid o'clock on Monday morning to make it to the airport.  Had managed to get online booking (take that!  BA employee who said it wasn't avialable) so could have a little leeway.  Which I needed because the taxi booked for the job arrived 30 minutes late.  Normally this wouldn't be an issue, but leaving Doha is a nightmare.  I'm sure part of it was that it was heavier than normal traffic, but it took an hour to get through immigration (I really missed the British queuing system - there was some form of queue but not one that made much sense) then security was absurdly easy.  You throw your bags on the x-ray belt (no need to remove laptops or liquids) then walk through.  There's a further screening at the gate - separate line for the ladies - where they had me take my scarf out of my carry on and open my purse - then onto a bus out to the plane - a repeat of the drive at Heathrow from terminal to plan a few days previously.  Up the roll away stairs, then to my seat.  Where there was a baby two seats over and two little boys behind me (3 and 6 years old, respectively).  The little boy screamed so that he woke up the infant in my row who proceeded to scream the entire way to Bahrain.  Short trip yes - only 25 minutes in the air - but you try it with a shrieking baby (I'm sure she couldn't help it) and whiny boys behind (I'm sure he could help it).

Bahrain - so much easier when it's not the curfew...the baby got off the plane.  Pity the boys didn't - they were in the same seats and it's about 7 - 8 hours to London.  Oh, and their mother kept putting her feet on my armrests - both of them - so I couldn't really use them because leaning on an armrest meant that all of a sudden a foot (sans sock!!!) would be poking the back of the arm.  I came home and did a large load of laundry.  In fairness to mom, dad and the 2 whiny boys, they had had a very long trip - 5 hour drive from Saudi Arabia to Doha beforehand - but it was Not Fun.  Even better, they were then in the same carriage on the Heathrow Express.  Thank goodness they were just changing terminals!  Smooth ending to the trip - no problems at immigration this time (but the guy had only just started his shift), quick unloading of baggage and I finally walked in the door sometime in the late afternoon.

It is now a decent time on Tuesday morning so I am off to get acquainted with my neighborhood.  There wasn't a chance before, given I was setting up house and travelling.  There is finally a chance to see what is around and see what's the best route to go where.  Also, I finally get to stop living out of a suitcase for a while, which is cause for much excitement and rejoicing.  As much fun as it is to travel, one of the nicest things about home is that it usually has all of your creature comforts - and I am a big fan of creature comforts...so until next time, happy eating!  Oh and if you have any suggestions, feel free to pass them on.

6 - In which a whole lot of time has elapsed...

Time flies when you're having fun
The past 8 days have just slipped by.  I moved into my flat, set up the essentials (sheets, towels, cleaning stuff - I can hear friends snickering - and a printer for my computer) and finally figured out how the heating and hot water work.  A boiler sounds Dickensian and quaint and fun - unless you're freezing your @## off at 4pm and wondering why it is so cold in here.  Visions of being found dead of hypothermia in the middle of the living room included people shaking their heads and wondering, "Why didn't she just turn on the heat?" to which I would have been unable to answer, "Do you think I didn't try?"

BB in Honolulu previously stated that he was going to try to live a life of minimal material possessions (feel free to correct me - I am sure I misquoted you!) which sounds fine in theory.  In practice, when you are looking for a knife so that you can cut a cucumber, you want the knife!  Also, I miss my pots and pans.  Oh, don't get me wrong - this flat is furnished.  It came with two pots, one of them tiny and only one has a lid.  I can use the little one to boil water for tea or milk for Milo.  The larger one is just big enough to make porridge.  Even minimal setup, it turns out, requires a lot of buying stuff.  Stuff you don't want to have to go searching for - like, where do you buy a toilet brush?  Yes, yes, I know - this is supposed to be a blog about a rambling feast and lots of food.  But since it's a sabbatical year, you get it all - the good (found a flat almost immediately) the bad (how does this boiler work?) and the ugly (toilet brushes?  Really?).

Also, a refresher of something that all children should be taught - want vs. need.  I WANT the cute cushions I saw in the homewares store (and which are not on my shopping list).  I do not NEED the cute cushions to be able to survive...I NEED to be able to turn on the heater...

Self induced torture (aka Russian Ballet)
I have found a dance studio here.  They say they have over 198 classes a week.  I am guessing they may have around 199 - otherwise, why wouldn't you say 200 (or more) classes a week?  Anyway, there is an amazing teacher there - she is Russian and she pushes everyone...a couple of the girls left class yesterday, panting from effort.  These are girls who are auditioning for schools/professional companies.  I hear a lot of "more!  point the foot!" which is a bit of a change after the lackadasical attitude in Sydney where we were pretty much there to have fun and exercise a bit.  This is actually to try to make it pretty.    Think about it - anywhere else you would not be allowed to watch (i.e. professional company class) or you would have to pay to see some of these dancers.  Here you pay £10 and you get to participate as well.  Cheaper than going to the gym...

In which my lack of shopping knowledge was made abundantly clear
Then last night, I had dinner with NT who is also over from Sydney.  We had a bit of a miscommunication because we had one landmark (Top Shop - which is at Oxford Circus) and a different Tube stop (Goodge Street).  I didn't think anything of it because I had seen a couple of Top Shops (or thought I did) so I thought there was one at the tube stop.  Um, no - thank goodness for cell phones!  We eventually found each other and made it to dinner - dim sum at Ping Pong.  Ping Pong is this trendy looking chain - we went in because I was wearing sneakers (the better to walk quickly on a cold London night, my dear) and it looked fairly casual.

English style dim sum
So we ordered our dim sum off the card (they don't do carts).  Not having been there before, we asked the waitress if we had ordered enough or too much.  She looked at the card and said, "I think it's perfect."  Well, it may have been perfect if you have a dainty appetite.  NT and I do not have dainty appetites, so we ended up ordering a few more dishes after we finished the initial 7.  It was a fusion dim sum (think Thai crispy spring rolls with mint, lettuce and dipping sauce), a coconut rice hotpot with chicken and shiitake mushrooms and another one that was a squid ink wrapper with...fish? inside.  I was so caught up in the conversation that I forgot what was in what.  Maybe NT can help.

Just so you know - I have looked at people's food blogs (reviews, recipes, etc.) and there are a zillion of those out there, some of which are really well written.  So it may be that this one is going to be much more of a ramble than it is about the feast - although the feasting will still be there, don't you worry.

English topics/culture
Yesterday afternoon I was reminded that one of the worst crimes that you can commit here is "jumping the queue" aka cutting the line (no, I didn't.  It came up in conversation).  However, it does explain that afternoon at the bank last week and why the man was so incensed that the other had cut in front of him.

The weather - has been beautiful.  With the exception of one day when I had to buy an umbrella for a light drizzle (and which had cleared up a few hours later) it has been mostly sunny with a light (variable) breeze.  Temperatures have been in the 11-12C range during the day and around 1-2C at night, which feels a lot colder because of the wind.

Last hurrah before getting down to business
I have booked a ticket to go visit ACP&KP in Doha (Qatar - United Arab Emirates, in case you were going to Google it).  I leave tomorrow morning and have used online check-in.  Who knew?  It was great except someone snaked my seat right before I hit confirm...one second it was available, the next, gone.  But the boarding pass with my seat has been printed out and put with my travel documents, all of which have been put somewhere safe.  Usually that means I will never find it again, or it will take years, but in this case I have so little clutter that I think I am safe.  I am looking forward to being warm for a few days, then returning to London to appreciate the cool spring weather.

Classes officially start on Thursday, 31 March 2011 at 8:30am, where we finally get (among other things) our schedule.  Travel plans have been on hold until I know what our holidays are - really hoping to escape London for the hoopla surrounding the Royal wedding.  I wish the couple well, really, but since they are providing an occasion for us to have an extra long weekend, why not travel?  Manhattan is issuing its siren call in this direction...

Am off to buy vegemite for my hosts in Doha.  Personally I can't see the appeal - they have said that it is an acquired taste but almost a lifetime has not yet been sufficient.  Ah, packing - always more fun when it is for a vacation, unlike when one is moving house.  A hui hou - until next time!

#5 - In which I find a home...

(Also known as "Take that, stamp guy!")
(Home)
As absurd as it may seem, I have found a flat in London, set up a bank account and a mobile phone.  The flat that I saw on my first day here (see the 4th entry) is the one I signed the lease for yesterday afternoon.  Then it was on to set up a bank account, which I duly did this afternoon.  I must admit, it was a bit odd to be charged a "lease preparation fee" where there were several errors (none of the agreed amendments were in the document when I first went to sign the lease and it had the wrong post code and a few other details) which I picked up.  Perhaps I should send them a bill for my review and time???

(Bank)
So many people warned me about how hard it would be to open an account, but I am guessing the banks must have somehow made new products because I walked in, sat down and about an hour later, had a bank account.  What with all the warnings, I expected the difficulties to arise with the bank staff.  Nothing could be further from the truth - they were very helpful.  Some of the other customers, on the other hand...

A couple of men had an altercation which eventually led to the bank staff getting involved.  One of them (customers, not bank employees...) apparently, had cut in front of the other and the other wasn't having any of it.  Fair enough, I haven't been shy about telling people there's a line either...but the volume grew and I made sure I stayed behind the partition where I had been about to ask the bank employee to help me open a bank account.

So - it's open.  Take that, immigration guy with the stamp at the airport!  I would never have been able to do this in France...my French is no longer good enough.

Friends galore
London also has the advantage of being a lot closer to friends who don't live here.  For instance, I thought SO was still back in Singapore, but I got a pleasant surprise when I got a message from her saying she is nearby.

I had forgotten CF lived here too, but that memory lapse didn't last long.  We have also traded details and will need to make plans to catch up.

Lastly, my friend UP from postgrad just happens to have landed at Heathrow.  He says it's been eight years since we've been in the same country, which I find hard to believe.  Really???  We have arranged to meet tomorrow - no suspects for dinner venues, but it may just be a wandering until something catches our eyes.  After all, we have a lot of ground to cover (babies, travel, jobs...)

Am currently warm for the first time today.  It has been cold enough that I check my nose and ears when I go out at night - just to make sure they're still attached.  Aching from cold indicates they are still with me, but you can never be too sure...

And now, for dinner tonight...must ponder.  Until next time!

#4 - What just happened?

Heathrow - in which I wondered whether my London experience was to end before I left the airport...
No matter how organised you are, there is always that moment of sheer terror when the immigration person with the stamp asks you a question which you answer and instead of stamping your passport, they start asking more questions.  This is even harder when you have been having difficulty processing the really difficult questions on board the plane from Hong Kong, such as "would you like a snack?" to which I had to think for half a minute before I could formulate an answer in a language that resembled a standard language for communication.

The guy:  "Why are you here?"
Me:  "To study."
The guy:  "Until when?"
Me:  "Until December."
The guy:  "Where's your letter?"
Me:  (Thinking *#&$@!!!!!!)  "What letter?"
The guy:  "The one that says you are going to study here."
Me:  "I didn't know I needed the letter.  It's all there on the visa."
The guy:  "Anyone can get a visa.   Otherwise how do you prove you are going to study here?"
Me:  (Did you ever try to get a freakin' visa, jump through all the hoops and get all the paperwork together?  They're more uptight than you are!)  As sweetly as utter exhaustion permits "I can print it out, if you can get me to a printer."
The guy:  "We don't have time for that."  (The he stamped my visa.  Not that I'm complaining, but really, it didn't seem like it was fun for him to give me a hard time, so why do it?)

The rest of the day continued on a much more promising note.  I actually managed to get my many bags and myself to JB's place near Regent's Park.  The taxi driver was kind enough to put my very heavy bags by the front door and the rest kind of took care of itself.

In desperate need of coffee but realizing that it was now late afternoon, I wandered down the street towards Le Pain Quotidien, hoping for good hot chocolate.  On the way, I stopped by a real estate agent's front window to see what was available in the area and voila! there was a one bedroom apartment.  I had no idea where Devonshire Street was, but I thought I'd check.  Like so many other things which have fallen into place for this particular venture, it turned out to be ridiculously easy - the flat was directly above the agent's offices (and about a 5-minute walk to the Cordon Bleu).

I know I said I could suck it up and stay in a studio for nine months, but the fates have conspired against such a plan - there wasn't much of a price difference between the studio flats and 1-bedroom places in the area, except that most of the other places were too far away or had something quite wrong with them (i.e. opening onto the end of a railway line).  As absurd as it may sound, it seems that the perfect little apartment presented itself before I had been in London for more than three hours.

Deja vu
I also quickly stuck my head in at the Cordon Bleu.  It turns out that Marylebone Lane doesn't go all the way through from Wigmore Street to Devonshire Street.  It's also crooked - charming, but confusing if you are expecting a grid pattern to the streets (flashes of wandering for an hour last April in search of Bond Street to Picadilly, only to end up right where I had started, haunted me).  Clearly Manhattan and the Sydney CBD (Central Business District, for your non-Sydneysiders) have spoiled me.  Having to learn North/South is unnatural and should not be required in order to find one's way around a city.

In which I learned that I can't fake tech-speak...
And now for the complicated part:  setting up a bank account and a mobile in the UK.  If you don't know the difference between terminology, what's included on what plan, etc. etc. the whole process can be a bit overwhelming.  Luckily the guys pointed me in the direction of a chain of stores named something like Carphone Warehouse (sorry guys, I really can't remember it) where a helpful fellow whose name I also can't remember got me set up with a mobile and mobile broadband.  Of course this required some investigation when I eventually crashed my computer.  I blame it on new software rather than user error...

Oh, by the way, the coffee at Le Pain Quotidien is drinkable.

A vacation day in London...
This morning started a little later than yesterday - I woke up at 5am instead of at 3:30.  There was a mad dash to get ready for class - there's a dance studio nearby!  I thought I was so organised, but then I couldn't find my tights, then my shoes, then my hairpins.  Boots sells hairpins (they're not quite big enough, but when you're desperate...)  As much as I wanted to stay for another class, on this occasion discretion was most definitely the better part of valour.

In which I discover that time has disappeared at an alarming rate
So it is now Sunday night and I forgot that a couple of days have passed since I last updated this blog...so, high points of the last few days, because I am tired and afraid that it will take me 2 hours to write 3 sentences.

Friday night - VT's birthday drinks at Players - some club that is underground in SoHo.  SoHo, apparently, does not stand for anything in London.  Except for the cool part of town - kind of like in Hong Kong.  I have decided that any place that is SoHo must be cool, regardless of where it is.

Went to Swan Lake at the Royal Opera House yesterday.  The Royal Ballet was amazing and I was lucky enough to attend with another person who appreciates ballet, one of ACP's work colleagues.  NB knew enough that we could exchange glances of appreciation when something particularly spectacular happened on stage.  The amount of skill and strength it must have taken to make it look that effortless defies words, so I won't try.

Then Vietnamese dinner by Leicester Square and Liam Neeson (Unknown) at the movie theatres.  Fun was had by all and we got to give reviews to the others who hadn't seen it yet.

Breakfast this morning in SoHo - some of JB's flatmates had a mission in mind but the place was packed so we ended up at a place with a French sounding name and what appeared to be Mediterranean influenced food.  Good coffee (first good cup in London!) and pretty yummy food - eggs cooked with butter and Turkish sausages.  The sausages were beef, not pork (I checked) but tasted a lot like chorizo.  I could have that with rice and not miss Portuguese sausages, eggs and rice at home too much...although it did mean that I missed the Russian ballet class which kicked my butt the other day.  Used it as opportunity to try a different ballet class - learning experience, but I won't be taking class with this particular teacher again.

Spent afternoon looking at printers because have started reviewing reading lists - the updated one is different from the one in January.  I know they said they were reviewing the material, but come on!  Have realised that I will have to compare all of my readings and that I could have saved myself the weight of schelpping 5 weeks' worth of readings with me.  Also that an extra unit has been added to the course.  Have decided that the early bird not only doesn't get the worm, it gets pissed off that it got up early at all.  I could have packed sweaters!  So much for doing things early.

Made a very large salad for dinner.  It didn't start out that way, it just ended up being really big once I got the couple leaves of lettuce, other veggies, cheese and chicken added to it.  I think I ate enough to feed 50 rabbits.  At least.  Also that the veggies from Waitrose are delicious.  Didn't make it to the markets today, so will try for later in the week.  For someone who has nothing pressing to do, am very busy...

Have determined that tomorrow I will sign the lease for the flat and hope that my bank will accept instructions to wire funds from the US to the UK when I tell them the amount in British pounds because I don't know the exchange rate.  Realise that they may tell me they can't do that and then will have to make alternate arrangements with letting agents.  Note to self:  must ensure that the lease document allows for this - because it doesn't have anything in it yet about the funds except that they must be paid in advance...

Until next time!

#3A - Coffee!!!

Found at last:  eatright (http://www.eatright.com.hk/ / martin@eatright.com.hk) has Toby's Estate coffee and it tastes delicious!  It's also a restaurant and wine bar, but the coffee and the breakfast brunch menu are enough to assuage any pangs of homesickness Aussies may experience, especially when they're missing weekend brunches.

#3 – Hong Kong (Days 1 – 3.1)

In which coffee failed to kick start a brain and we had to search for food...
The day before yesterday started off with a whimper.  I went looking for the dim sum/yum cha place down the street recommended by the driver of my taxi from the airport.  I checked with the hotel front desk and they said that there was a better place just up the street.  No one takes bookings for yum cha so S, J and I should just show up and get a table.  The directions were something like, “You go up to this next street outside that door.  Turn left and it is a couple of blocks down the street, on the other side of Hennessy Street.”  This all sounded good in theory, but it helps if you can remember the name of the restaurant and whether it was before or after the McDonald’s.  In my defence, I’m not sure the coffee kicked in at all that day.

Thank goodness S and J were such good sports.  Eventually we found the place and we also managed to pass a shop where J had to get a couple of things, while I tried to remember what the concierge had said.  S suggested we should try the other direction since the one in which we were currently proceeding had brought us back in a circle (and bad memories in my mind of wandering the streets of London last April for an hour only to return to my starting point).  Well done, S!

Holy laid back dim sum, Batman!

Lei Garden(s?) is apparently part of a chain of restaurants, one of which is famous for molecular something-or-other and requires 72 hours notice.  This place lacked the feeding frenzy atmosphere which is often a part of the cart service and we watched with some bemusement at the older gentlemen reading their papers at some of the other tables.  We ordered off descriptions on the English menu.  I’m not sure that this helped because we couldn’t match all of the dishes to our list when food started to appear.

Given that the English menu provided us with about 4 dishes once we had ruled out the ones with pork, which I generally refuse to eat, the fried dishes and the ones that just sounded weird, I decided to be adventurous and went with J’s suggestions.  We may not have known what we were eating, with the exception of the prawn dumplings, the lotus rice, the prawn rice noodles and the fried turnip cakes, each dish bore as little resemblance to its counterpart in a Western yum cha place as I do to my brothers.

The dumplings were a little smaller than those at many yum cha places in various Chinatowns so you could pop the whole thing in your mouth without looking like a squirrel with a mouthful of nuts, only less cute and furry.  For another thing, the roast pork left us speechless except for J’s insistence that if I tried one thing on this trip, it had to be this pork.  My prejudice against pork is that I don’t like the way the meat tastes.  As long as meat doesn’t taste like meat (beef, chicken, pork) I will eat it.  Pork generally tastes porky unless it has had so many preservatives, salt and other bad-for-you stuff added to it that it is just a vehicle for those other things.  So the highlight of this meal was the one thing that I thought I would absolutely hate.

I don’t know what they did to this but – the skin (?) was crispy and light, kind of like a really good tempura batter.  The meat didn’t taste porky and the bite didn’t have that awful greasy feel in the mouth with a lingering aftertaste.  Somehow they had cooked it so that the fat had rendered itself out without drying the meat and all you felt and heard was the crunching of the golden crust along with some salty goodness in small pieces about the size of petit fours when you are at afternoon tea.  J then had to go to a work function, leaving S and me to do some girly bonding.

Window shopping is only incidental

There was some window shopping at various locations (Times Square being one) and several other ones in the guide books.  I can’t remember their names and it was all incidental anyway as our mission was pretty simple:  get a birthday card for one of S’s friends in keeping with their tradition, find some postcards for me, which was surprisingly hard, have some ice cream (mmm, Haagen Daaz – ok, I have no idea how to spell that) and buy some household groceries for S & J.  My quest to replace my concealer has also been surprisingly unsuccessful to date, but that is for another day.

If you were to ask us what we talked about, we would be hard pressed to tell you anything more than “some upcoming travel plans, moving, being unable to find things because they are under boxes, infuriating telecommunications companies, just stuff”.  Guys, think of it this way.  It’s a way for those of us, who are unfamiliar with the words “gym” and/or “exercise” in connection with ourselves, to burn a few calories.  I understand the ice cream didn’t really help, but that was so not the point.  It’s our bonding time.  If you’re lucky, we might remember something that you need/might like/mentioned, so you get triple the fun:

1.                   we’re happy, which should make you happy;

2.                  we are doing our version of exercise, but which we doesn’t feel like exercise; and

3.                  you might get a treat.  Or not.

Ladies, I’m sure you all see where I am going here.  Gentlemen, just go with it.  It’s a lot easier for all of us when you don’t argue.  A wise man whom I heard at a wedding advised his new son-in-law, “The key to a happy marriage is encompassed in two words:  yes dear”.  It sounds so sensible, I definitely think it’s worth a try (at least occasionally) although yes, I do realise that this recommendation is biased in my favour.

There is one odd thing about shopping in Hong Kong:  although many of the shopping centres are connected by elevated walkways and seem designed to keep you in them all day (if only by virtue of the fact that you could get lost and wander in expensive circles all day) not many of the doors are automated.  In other words, they are not Mommy-and-stroller (or even slightly handicapped) friendly.  S and I weren’t sure if this meant that you were supposed to have a nanny to mind the kidlets while you go shopping, or whether it all stops when you have kiddies.  If anyone knows the answer, feel free to share.

Michelin star Sunday

Dinner had been booked at a ramen place called Mist, about which S and I both wanted to try after reading about it in several magazines.  Mist is, according to Time Out Hong Kong, one of two Japanese restaurants in HK to be awarded a Michelin star (www.mist.com.hk, 4 Sun Wui Road, Causeway Bay, Hong Kong, 2881 5006).  The business card says that it is a member of the Paul Martin Noodle Club.  I don’t know what that is but I want to find out...

Mist was amazing – it managed to stunt my generally satisfactory repertoire of superlatives and left S, J and me groping for words.  J’s fish tartare was a white fish (perhaps yellowtail?) mixed with avocado and something else to make it look a bit creamy.  This was then served on a red cabbage/endive leaf, which resulted in eliciting noises which are only appropriate when eating divine food or...well...so anyway, my smoked scallop salad then arrived – the smokiness of the scallops permeated the entire dish, the scallops themselves just barely cooked through and all of it topped with tobiko and some kind of dressing that I can’t describe.  More inappropriate noises ensued.  I thought this could be the perfect first date, as long as you are prepared to be unable to move at the end of the meal.  Mara, I really could have used your input last night!

S’s starter was a baked mushroom medley.  The mushrooms included the king mushrooms, shimeji, possibly others, all torched then topped with torched panko crumbs and some kind of “herb sauce” which bore a large resemblance to pesto...there was some cheating as J is not supposed to have gluten, but I think S’s and my inarticulately happy mumblings goaded him into taking just a teensy bite.  He managed to restrain himself with one more teensy bite, but it was a heroic exercise in self control.

This all happened before the main event:  the ramen which was the subject of the Time Out article.  The noodles are slightly thinner than is traditional (according to the write up),  made from wheat sourced from 3 separate locations in order to get the texture (?) right (according to the restaurant’s blurb).  There were 4 types or broth:  miso, karamiso, ume-shio and one other which I currently can’t remember, being in a complete food coma.  Our noodles arrived and after the first spoonful, there were insistent exchanges of “you have to try this, this is amaaaazing!” with which everyone gleefully complied.  My ume shio also had some kelp (as described by the enthusiastically helpful staff but which appeared to be like mozuku, only green) hidden under the shiso leaf and ume.  The ume was large and sweet, which seems like a contradiction given that it’s been pickled.  It added that extra zing to the chicken and konbu stock (Time Out’s description) which elevated my light broth from merely really delicious up to “worth a special visit”.

The karamiso broth was richly flavoured without being heavy, the noodles’ delicate appearance belying their ability to stand up to the robust broth and our inability to inhale the noodles as quickly as the man seated to my right who finished his dinner before I had made a dent in mine.  Bear in mind his dinner arrived after mine as well, but I just couldn’t keep up with the slurping to my right...anyway, the noodle was still as al dente when I chased the last couple around the bottom of my bowl as they were when I took my first bite.

I could go on further about all this except that S, J and I looked at each other and then booked our seats for Tuesday night (my last night in HK) before we even asked for our bill for Sunday’s dinner.  We also requested the exact same seats, rather than the banquettes and tables in the restaurant.  I promise not to bore you with a second rendition on Mist but rest assured I will enjoy it just as much.

We had been seated by the counter instead of the tables because we booked late, but this actually added to the experience.  I unashamedly stood up on the rail on which you can rest your feet while sitting on the tall stools, to look over the counter and watch the chefs.  Every once in a while one of the waitresses or chefs would come over to us and explain what they were making (the ramen sushi, the spoons, the chiba pork...) which were then delivered to another table.  I love how chatty people get when you are genuinely interested in what they do.

The service was excellent, friendly and very attentive (although no bonus points for clearing our dishes before everyone was finished). I’m debating bonus points for the white gloves worn while setting out the cutlery for our appetisers, but then I thought maybe that was a requirement for a Michelin star.  Or it could be a wanky affectation and I just have no idea.

Dumpling noodle soups and SoHo Monday

It wasn’t chatty at Mak’s noodles earlier yesterday at lunch (Wellington Street, SoHo – with an article by Anthony Bourdain of No Reservations proudly displayed under the plastic cover on our table).  S and I had had a bowl of soup noodles each and shared an order of green vegetables and jah jiang mein (basically Chinese spaghetti Bolognese with chili).  I love Hong Kong sizes – they are small enough that you can try several things, especially if you eat a lot.  On the way out we paused by the front window where you can see the three chefs plying their craft – one dipping and cooking the dumplings, one taking those dumplings and/or noodles and cooking them some more and possibly doing other esoteric things to them, the last one ladling the appropriate soup/sauce on the dumpling and/or noodles.  They did, however, wave goodbye to S and me when we finally tore ourselves away from the front windows.

The broth for the (shrimp) wonton noodle soup was everything Bourdain promised – shrimpy, rich, moreish and no greasy feel in your mouth afterward.  The broth that came with the jah jiang mien suffered in comparison, being a bit heavy on the fish and leaving an oily feeling coating your mouth.  We didn’t have any more of that stock but ended with our noodles and more pork sauce, where only salty, sweet, slightly crunchy and spicy deliciousness remained.

S unfortunately did not feel well in the later afternoon and had to have a quiet night home to recuperate for today.  In the meantime, I had made arrangements to catch up with another friend, PD whom I knew from Sydney.  We started with drinks in SoHo (Peak Bar), then went to another dumpling noodle soup place for dinner.  He had offered several options for dinner but I thought we should do what he would do on a normal night.  How else to make the most of having a local to show you around?

PD let me order, but I had gotten used to the smaller portions and...whoops.  Too much or not, we managed to get through most of it although I wrote most of this while in the midst of a food and jetlag induced coma.  Our dinner was delicious and I am still taking mental notes although that space is rapidly running out.  One wonderful bonus about catching up with PD was that when conversation turned to coffee, he could recommend one that serves Australian coffee!  Not only that, we happened to walk past it on our way to after dinner drinks at one of several local watering holes so he pointed it out on our way past.

I couldn’t tell you what we talked about either.  I think there was something about jetlag, keys and our respective solutions to a dilemma involving both.  The garrulousness that I remember is still alive and very much in evidence, as is his palpable air of contentment.  There was some talk about what his life is like as an expat, etc. etc.  I believe that we discussed the meaning of life but did reached neither a satisfactory nor agreeable answer.

It is now Tuesday morning and my last day in Hong Kong.  Tomorrow morning I will have to wake up at some ridiculous hour and get to the airport to fly to London.  I trust there will be little or no traffic as HK doesn’t seem to really wake up until after 10am.

In the meantime, it is time to see if I can find the cafe with good coffee on my own.  At least I know where it is and kind of remember what it looks like.  I hope it won’t look too different during the day!  There are high hopes as Toby’s Estate is served at a couple of my favourite Sydney coffee places.  By the by, PD, did we have a time frame on the wager and suit fittings?  I’m trying to figure out if September is too soon and whether those final three months will make much of a difference...