Last updated on February 9th, 2015
When we last heard from C.C., our culinarily challenged contributor, she was struggling with a lack of caffeine and leafy greens. Today, C.C.’s British boyfriend arrives and helps her to make peace with British foodstuffs. To catch up on C.C.’s adventures with British food, including ketchup on watermelon and Spotted Dick, click on to read Parts One, Two, and Three.
He tells her that the restaurant was established in 1798, which is rather unfathomable for a lass whose own country only declared independence from the red coats a few years before. Still, she recognizes that this may be the time to keep a stiff upper lip and thus she does.
It was the Pheasant Pie at Rules that completely turned around C.C.’s impression of British cuisine. The crust was flaky and inside was all the delightful savory saucy meat that could redeem an entire empire. Yes, C.C. must admit: food must suit its climate and this rich baked meat pie was the embodiment of the finest the kingdom had to offer. The other delights C.C. sampled—black pudding, duck terrine, and a goat cheese with framboise drizzled sauce—were all stellar as well. It’s no mystery why the sun never sets on Rules, which has been ruling since the 18th century.
With yet another British meal under her ever-widening belt, C.C. and B.F. set off well-fortified to take in the sights the following day. After a brief snog on the Westminster Bridge, near Big Ben and most certainly right under the nose of James Bond, B.F. surprised her with a champagne flight on the London Eye, a site C.C. highly recommends and not just for the bubbly.
After that, they tippled off to the Oxo Tower brasserie for lunch. Here, C.C. and B.F. sampled more excellent meats done in the 21st Century style: charcoal grilled quail, roasted peach, romesco, Manchego, salted almonds, pomegranate reduction; seared Japanese style beef salad, edamame, ponzu dressing;
kangaroo tataki, chili jam, crispy Thai spices, soya glaze;
and chermoula-spiced Saudi prawns, hummus, fried chickpeas, preserved lemon, sumac.
And as B.F. enjoyed a rosé and C.C. sipped a fine Viognier and privately giggled to herself at the thought of Patsy* saying “Harvey Nics, Sweetie Dahling,” she snapped this image of their glasses and realized that they were indeed half-full.
To be continued…