You are what you eat

Which normally would mean I bounce between an overzealous and occassionally successful cook and a skint student living on Heinz baked beans, but when the parents come to town it is a whole different matter. This is why I have decided to share here the treasures that we have discovered during a 4-day gastronomic orgy.

Due to my mother's excessive need for shopping our first destination can be found spitting distance from Oxford Circus, just off of Carnaby Street, under 14-16 Fouberts Place (map). Carnaby Burger Co. serves massive and delicious yet healthy burgers and its broccoli and courgette soup had me licking my fingers. Don't recommend however their Welness Salad, which is bland and tastes like a handful of grass (despite the avocado). You went to a place that has the word 'Burger' in it. Eat a burger. Or at least the chicken wings.

To get away from the often unbearable hustle and bustle of the Selfridges' area, we wondered up towards Marylbone and found Seabass on 40 James Street (map). Lovely service, friendly environment (you can see into the kitchen and unlike a lot of places it looks clean and orderly) and the food was great. Simple, but delicious, you can literally hear the waves of the sea in this highly recommended little Mediterranean place!

If you are looking for a great gastro pub after a walk through Regent's Park (granted you are at the Great Portland Street corner) look no further than the Queen's Head and the Artichoke at 30-32 Albany Street (map). Quaint atmosphere and the food, organized in tapas style, is to die for. Soups, meat, and an abundance of small vegetarian dishes is waiting for the tired traveller-walker. Weekend nights I suggest to make reservations. If we are talking about tapas, not the English interpretation of it, but the real deal, well we have found a gem, without a doubt. Under 195 Great Portland Street (map) lies Iberica, a place where you will have earth-shattering gastro-orgasms in your mouth, believe you me. The cheese plate comes from cheese that have their own humidor (!) and the legs of ham hang from the ceiling like morning dew on the grass. They even have their own delicatessen, which can be admired while trying not to 'un-Spanishly' devour my food faster than my wine. Naturally, I can recommend the Serrano Ham and the mixed cheese plate, if you are looking for a well-rounded general experience. The padron peppers (nothing like when I attempt it in the kitchen) are succulent and not overly salty, and the thought of the white bean stew with chorizo and morcilla makes my stomach growl. They have a good paella selection as well, although for that I cannot vouch, but will provide an update as soon as my parents return. And finally, if you are looking for a great Japanese, this one is especially recommended if your night is taking you to the Famous London Jazz Cafe, as it is located right next to it (map). Bento Cafe is adorably authentic and has a great selection of food besides sushi. The portions resemble more of a Chinese restaurant than the more moderate Japanese sizing. The only downside is, try not to peep into the kitchen on your way to the loo. It is not sightly and I would strongly urge them to put a door to cover up the mess.
Overall, if I am what I eat, I have become a world-traveller in the space of 4 days, and I haven't even left the wonderful city that gave us all this exciting foodly experiences!

Glasnost and the odd Mondays

I know that traditionally we are required to whole-hearedly despise Mondays, but I have to admit this particularly delightful Monday, I would pick from a whole bundle of other weekdays (not weekends, let's not get carried away). Lovely lunch was had in Yo Sushi, where they have introduced a little thing called Blue Mondays. This means that all plates on the belt are colour blue, meaning that you can have your heart's desire that costs so much more usually, for only £2.20 a pop!

Haunch of Venison is currently housing Glasnost until the 26th of June (free entry!), a collection by Soviet non-conformist artists from the 1980s. Inspiring, thoughful and often comical (jokes being a favourite tool of dissent) the exibition spanned two floors and more than a decade of subversive and later nationally and internationally accepted and celebrated art. For me, as a Hungarian, it was particularly fascinating to see the criticism aimed at the system whose last death-throes I lived to witness firsthand, even though, at the time, I was not aware of what was actually really happening, having only the vague impressions of childhood. The Haunch of Venison is also housing exhibitions by Rina Banerjee, Forever Foreign and Spun by Thomas Hetherwick, both until the 15th of May.

To defy the despicable May weather, we had coffee in the Royal Academy of Arts, and we stumbled upon a lovely one-room show of photographs of old and new London. A heart-warmer to all admirers of this great city, hidden and not-so-hidden spots are shown on shots taken in the 1870s and 1880s standing as charming and beautifully dreamy reminders of what should be preserved and cherished about this glorious metropolis.

All in all, I have successfully avoided Monday-gloom and the oh-crap-it's-an-other-week blues. A great receipt for everyone!  

Novelties

It's been over a week I've moved into my (presently 'our') new place, and haven't had internet since, which led to the curious finding that I can procrastinate by reading non-required material, instead of taking notes on any of the 15 books that I should. So I am typing away from a cafe in Camden, and trying to conjure up the number of happenings of last weekend. 

The new apartment is fab, and I didn't notice any real problems with it until I fancied myself up, put on my Saturday-dress and headed for the door. Promptly I bounced back. It was stuck. Locked. Unmovable. Yanking the door. Panic. More yanking. More panic. You know what is more terrifying than being stuck outside of your place? It's to be stuck inside. There is very little to do there, if you are alone that is. There is a whole world outside, so I came to the, maybe surprising, conclusion that any day I would rather be stuck outside with the world, than inside, with virtually nothing to do, just circling around like a poisoned mouse. I had a randez-vous with a friend I met in Colombia. Unfortunately, his cell is Swedish and I quickly ran out of 'foreign credit', so after begging him to come and rescue me, I had to resort to calling an other friend with a UK cell to call Sweden and continue the directions, while I glued myself to the little window of my entrance door. The door was pried open after some considerable efforts by my friend and later on by the neighbour's part. At this point I only had time for a quick catch up drink with my knight in shining armour, before heading up to fancy restaurant numero dos this weekend, Tamarai. Unfortunately, the night before, I couldn't properly enjoy numero uno, as I already had dinner at a remote, little, nevertheless exquisite, phillippino restaurant at the end of Charlotte street. So when I arrived to Gaucho , and they brought out the glisteringly beautiful and mouthwatering stakes on a cutting board to choose from; in tears I had to resign myself to the idea of having a miserable little ceviche, which, naturally, was nothing compared to the ones to be had on a Peruvian beach under lot less glittery circumstances. Saturday night was spent, well, spending. We ended up in Sketch, whose egg shaped toilets still cause me little shivers of joy when casting eyes upon them. I'm pretty sure it is quite bizarre to get so excited about toilets, but I can't help it. 

I can no longer pretend that I still have even a morsel of bagel left on my plate, so I will dutifully and with head hanging proceed to pack up my stuff and head back to the library. Tear.