London Is Burning

Aug 11, 2003 02:57

This was, officially, the hottest day in the history of London's 350 years or so of record keeping -- it broke 100 F at Heathrow.

I spent it, after much mad racing around with bags, at the birthday party of Steven, one of James Wallis' closest friends. (Steven is, as they would say up North, "dead posh.") We arrived for lunch around 1:30 and left after espressos at 11:30. It was fabulous, and civilised (certainly not "civilized"), complete with musical entertainment (two Cole Porter songs adapted for the birthday celebrant and sung by his Russian wife, Olga). Food was much cold collation (prosciutto, raw fish in oil, potato pancakes, pirogis, green salad, rice pilaf with lamb, etc.) served buffet-style, including an insanely good eggplant salad (er, aubergine salad) that I wound up having four helpings of altogether.

Then six or seven types of cheese (including the best Stilton I've ever consumed), and tarts and cakes and ice cream and watermelon.

Dinner was re-warmed rice pilaf and more eggplant, with a zingy red -- Steven has a wine cellar underneath the dining room. The star of the night, though, was a 1997 Moselle Riesling of some sort; white, crisp, fruity, and only 8% alcohol. We drank three bottles of it between lunch and dinner.

The lunch drink was the British equivalent of sangria, something wonderful called Pimm's Cup. For our next barbecue, I plan to either buy it (if one can in Hyde Park or Chicago at large) or home-brew it; James told me to watch my consumption, because "It's more alcoholic than it looks."

"So am I, James," I replied. "So am I."

This is London. Tomorrow is the British Museum, and lunch with Phil Masters and John Kovalic.

travel, britain, food

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