Tonight’s Today, Today is Tonight.

I just discovered via an old session of NPR’s World Cafe a local London artist, Jack Penate, whose song, “Tonight’s Today,” is a perfect song for this evening.  Check out his performance, or you can listen to the song on its own on his MySpace site.

To clarify for those of you who may be living under a rock or just completely fucking oblivious, it’s New Year’s Eve.  New Year’s Eve/Day is my favourite holiday because of the promise of a fresh start.  Yes, I am pretty fucking naive, but really, my little heart has thrilled at New Year’s anticipation since I was a child.  I remember trying to stay awake as a little kid in Japan, listening to temple bells ringing in the distance, struggling to keep my eyes open despite slipping into sleep.  I remember my mother and I would throw change around the house in hopes of good money luck.  I remember being in the middle of Silom Soi 4 in Bangkok, listening to The Rolling Stones two New Year’s in a row with an old boyfriend of mine on WPRK, and celebrating with Mike, Marie and Clark at Peacock Room for 2009.

If you had a bad year, you can look upon the new year with hope, or at least with the relief that “god, that shit year’s over” and you can make resolutions for better things.  If you had an amazing year, then hooray, you can celebrate the end of a great year and look forward to a continuation of good times.

This year for me involved a lot of trials and patience, a lot of change and the feeling of not belonging here nor there.  Although that might sound depressing, I think I’ve never really “belonged” anywhere.  This search for belonging has sort of dominated my existence; it has been a hole inside I’ve been unable to fill, no matter the environs I find myself in.  Maybe I need to stop trying to fill the hole, but instead embrace it as a part of me.  A ghostly little part, but a part nonetheless that needs love as well.

With the Naughts nearly over, that means there’s a whole new decade upon us to fumble through.  And fumble through it we must, and though we may falter, in the end, I hope we can all find our time to be ferocious, to seize the moment, to hold our respective “nows” in our hands and say, “Yes, this is my time.”

If you’d like for pointers in how to take 2010 into your hands, have a look at what Mark Vernon has to say on The School of Life’s blog.  I wish all of you reading this a Happy New Year.  After drinking a third of a bottle of Spanish wine, I hope to make it down to the Thames to catch the fireworks display to celebrate the new year and the new decade properly.

Is 2010 ready for me?  Let’s find out together.

Pub #6: The Marquis Cornwallis

It’s interesting how there are pubs with the same name throughout London.  I’m sure I’ve seen another Marquis Cornwallis around town aside from the one I’ve been to in Bloomsbury, but I can’t remember exactly where.  Oh well, no matter, as this entry of the 100 Pubs Project isn’t concerning itself with those other Cornwallises, but this one.

The Marquis Cornwallis is a pub I passed by during my first week in London while staying at the five-star accomodations known as The Generator, sharing a room with a rotating cast of three young men from countries afar.  Because I walked along Marchmount often, I would pass the Marquis walking from Russell Square tube station.  Never went in, though, as money was quite tight and I knew I needed to hold onto my funds for flat-hunting trips and to eventually buy silverware and the things one tends to need when starting over in a new city.

When I began classes at SOAS, classmates in my Issues of Anthropology of Food course (aka ‘Foodies,’ for the most part) would often go for a drink after our Friday evening classes.  On such a day, I somehow led my classmates to The Marquis Cornwallis.  We had gotten in at a good time, just before the working stiffs sauntered out of their jobs and before the nightcrawlers came out to booze, and managed to secure prime territory before the fireplace in the upstairs drawing room.  This was before fireplaces began to be used this year, so it wasn’t really a warm spot to sit so much as that we looked quite cool sitting there, a mix of British, American, Canadian and Italian Master’s students from SOAS.  My friend and colleague David ordered chips that came with a side of the house’s ‘Bloody Mary ketchup.’  My side of chips that came with my veggie burger came with the same ketchup, which, to me, didn’t seem particularly remarkable.  The veggie burger was good, from what I remember, but also messy, as most veggie burgers at pubs tend to be from my experience.

Since that day, I’ve had pasta at the Marquis (good, but small-portioned) and, most recently, a bowl of vegetable soup.  This most recent trip was made with James, who was on the hunt his last night in London for fish and chips.  We were on our way to the North Sea chipper, which was a walk further than what James and I were keen on making at the time.  It was raining, James was having ankle issues, and the back of my heels were getting bit into my my shoes who suddenly decided to turn sinister.  A rain-stained A-board outside The Marquis Cornwallis promised, among other things, the fish and chips my fellow American was after.

So, in we went into the warm bosom of the Cornwallis, where we secured an end of a long table for pint and pubbery.  James went to the bar, was gone a bit, and then came back.

“No fish & chips.”

“No fish & chips?”

“No fish at all.“

Damn.  Oh well.  Our Anglophile opted for a steak and ale pie instead.  Or maybe it was a steak and kidney pie.  I can’t recall, to be honest.  Either way, it wasn’t fish & chips, but in the end, James did eat it up anyway, and he said it was good.  It seemed to be a good healthy portion, with a side of vegetables and mash that were quickly devoured upon arrival.  I was still sick at the time, so my appetite was light.  Although I was tempted to get a vegetarian burger, I went with the winter vegetable soup at £2.95, which was cheaper than my pint of Old Rosie cider.  The pint of cider was £3.40, which has seemed to be the standard price for a pint at most of the pubs I’ve been to so far on this project.

Now, the Old Rosie and I have a bit of history, being that I had two or three glasses one night on a relatively empty stomach.  Hilarity ensued.  I managed, with a bit of help, to get water and food in me eventually, negating Old Rosie’s effects just in time for everyone else around me to get really drunk.  More hilarity ensued.  So, getting the Old Rosie again was slightly daunting, but since I was eating, I thought I’d be fine.  Interestingly, the Old Rosie wasn’t properly on tap, as the pubman behind the counter wound up pouring up some cider for me out of what seemed to be a box.  Americans, you know boxed wine?  Yeah, it was like that.  In any case, I don’t think the Old Rosie pint I had was any worse off for it being served that way.

The winter vegetable soup, served with three simple slices of bread and a dollop of cream, was delicious–a perfect remedy for a rainy London day when you’ve been fighting with the wind from turning your umbrella inside-out.  Sometimes one gets soup at a restaurant or cafe and they make the soup way too salty, or it’s too runny.  This soup was lovely with just the right amount of density, having its veg pureed to perfection, and I would definitely order it again.  However, soup cannot withstand the stout punch of the Old Rosie, and since I hadn’t been drinking much due to my cold, the Old Rosie did manage to get me a bit tipsy.  A small amount of hilarity ensued, as James began to be a bit concerned that I wouldn’t know how to get back to my friend Aru’s house.  A silly concern, as I’m quite familiar with Bloomsbury, and I only had one measly pint, but it was James’ last night, and he did have to get up early in the morning to contend with the fun new checks airport security had newly devised.

The Marquis Cornwallis, or The Marquis of Cornwallis, has a website, so if you are looking to see how it stacks up to your local pubby, there’s a map and a menu and everything.  I did notice that the menu was going to change on the 10th of January, so I will probably have a look-see at how the new menu stacks up.  I’ll been in the area of Bloomsbury so long as I continue to take classes at SOAS, so The Marquis will likely see me again.

Pub #5: The New Rose

The New Rose on Essex Road was introduced to me by my friend Ossie, as it was the venue where we watched the Arsenal and Manchester United match on the 29th of August this year.  Arsenal lost, alas, to Man U, but the pub was fine.  I had ale and ate pizza and knitted at the table while watching the game, hoping Arsenal would manage to come up and score some goals.

Since that day, which was the first full day I was in London, I’ve been to the New Rose quite a bit.  Living in Holloway, I have gone to the New Rose a few times to escape the neighbourhood chaos that happens when Arsenal are playing a game at Emirates.  I’ve also popped in for their two-for-one burger deals on Wednesdays (which I hope are still going to continue in the new year).  And I’ve also met up with friends who work nearby for a drink or three.

So yeah, I’m well-acquainted with The New Rose.  They’ve changed their food menu recently, but the handmade pizzas are still there, and the burgers, although I’m not sure about the veggie burgers.

I went recently to catch another Arsenal match, and I brought out-of-towner James in tow.  The match was between Arsenal and Aston Villa, and was going on not too far from my flat in Holloway, but who has money for tickets to Emirates?  Not me.  Instead, we went from Hyde Park to Essex Road and waited for the game to start at 1:30 that afternoon.  I ordered a dark ale, The Reverend James, which was one I’ve had before at The New Rose, but since I am in recovery mode from a cold I caught right before Christmas, in the end, I wasn’t able to finish it.  James started out with a pint of The Reverend as well, but after finishing it, he went for a glass of mulled wine, which he seemed to like.  Any case, I paid £3.40 for a pint of The Reverend James.

I did manage to finish a baked eggplant dish, however, which was tasty and yum.  At £6.50, it was one of the cheaper selections on the new menu, but it won points with me for being nice and warm.  James ordered a burger from the kitchen, and I forgot to ask how he liked it, as the game was in full swing by then, but he did remark the next day or so randomly about how he was thinking about the sauce The New Rose put on the burger.  I guess it left a good impression, then.  In the past, I’ve gotten veggie burgers at The New Rose, and they were quite fine.  Veggie burgers at pubs tend to fall apart upon eating, and the ones at The New Rose were no exception.  Still, they were good, and with the two-for-one deal they were having on Wednesdays (which are hopefully still going on), it was a great way to eat and have a pint or two for under a tenner.

It was a good visit to The New Rose.  Arsenal won 3-0 (sorry, Villa fans), the food was good, and the crowd was all right at The New Rose, aside from a rather skittish dog who was brought to the pub by a couple.  The crowd during the day is quite different from the evening crowd The New Rose sometimes plays host to.  It can be quite a deterrent, actually, when weird spill-over crowds from I-don’t-know-where show up and take over.  I remember one night being there and a drunken bunch knocked over a mess of drinks near me.  It happens.  It was particularly crowded that night, being a Friday night, and I also remember some guy on the bus loudly yammering to someone on the phone, “Oh yeah, I’m going to meet up with people at The New Rose!”  And sure enough, he was there, with his trendy glasses and sitting at a table among his friends.

Sometimes, people develop love-hate relationships with their favourite pubs.  They love the pub, but hate that all kinds of “wankers” or “jerkfaces” have started going to it.  This leads to some starting a search for a new local.  With the New Rose, I think I might stick with it being my local place to watch Arsenal games, two-for-one pizzas on Monday nights and afternoon drinks.  Other times, it just has been getting too crowded for me.

Pub #4: The Lord Clyde

So, my friend James is currently in town, and on his second night in I corralled him into meeting with friends Lucy and Jim at the New Rose on Essex Road.  Unfortunately for us, a large number of people had the same idea of meeting up at the New Rose as well, so, after everyone finished their drinks (I abstained, being a slow drinker), we moved on for greener pastures that weren’t quite taken over by holiday revelers.

Lucy and Jim led us to The Lord Clyde, also on Essex Road, but more towards St Paul’s Road than Islington Green. They said the pub was a good one, and the atmosphere was certainly inviting, especially considering the nice seats we managed to score around a small table in sight of the pub’s Christmas tree.  The place was less crowded than the pub we left, and though there was a table of folks having their holiday party next to us.  Considering it was the 22nd of December, I’m sure many pubs in London were playing host to at least one holiday party for a club or office or group of friends.

We made our food orders–Lucy and Jim first, then James, and then I last–grabbing our drinks whilst ordering our food as well.  I went with a pint of Aspall’s Suffolk Cider, with homemade ravioli pulled from the chalkboard specials as my dinner.  My total came up to £12.50, which somewhat puzzled me, because the number indicating the price for the ravioli looked like an eight… which would have made my pint £4.50.  Later on, I found out the writer of the boardwrites, as he put it, “Germanic Nines,” where the 9 looks more like an 8 with part of the lower half erased.  So, the ravioli entree was £9, the pint of cider, £3.50.

Lucy and Jim got their meals in good time, and they looked wonderful.  Lucy had gotten a fish dish from the special that looked amazing, and Jim’s burger looked serious, a “proper burger.”  After they had finished, James and I still hadn’t gotten our meals, and one of the staff went in to check up on the orders.  After a bit, James was presented with his bangers n’ mash, which was something on his “List of things to do in London.”  It looked like quite a nice meal as well, very neatly presented.

The food I ordered, however, was still not accounted for, and I was informed by the same staff member that, yes, there *was* an issue with my order, and that it was being made, sorry.  Forgive me this digression, but the American in me was wondering if I would get the dish for free, or maybe get a free drink to compensate for my wait.  But nah, it’s not really like that in the UK, or at least in London with my limited experience.  No free desserts or coffee on the house for my wait, alas.  Just an assurance that my dish was on its way.

When it did arrive, though, it was a disappointing sight in comparison to the dishes received by my friends.  The ravioli was in a soup of sauce, covered with cheese.  The pasta itself was weakly-filled with butternut squash, but I couldn’t taste it for the amount of sauce it was drowned in.  The portion seemed rather small–Lucy commented that it looked as if they had split one dinner-sized portion into two–and it really wasn’t anything special.  Okay, I understand that ordering pasta at a pub isn’t the best choice, as pasta can be easily made at home.  But the vegetarian options for main dishes on The Lord Clyde’s food menu really consisted of one dish–a roasted veg entree–and then there was the vegetarian ravioli on the chalkboard.  That was it.

It was a shame, really, to have been the recipient of the “ravioli FAIL” dish.  I think even just a side of garlic bread would have ameliorated it.  Yeah, I’ve had worse pasta served up before elsewhere, and I’ve had small portions of pasta served elsewhere (Marquis Cornwallis of Marchmount, I am looking at you), but from the evidence of the menu and the resulting vegetarian dish, it would seem to me the cook at The Lord Clyde simply doesn’t care to make vegetarian food, even though in London there is a clear demand for it, since everyone seems to have a vegetarian friend, housemate or boy/girlfriend here.

Unless the menu changes, I don’t see myself eating at The Lord Clyde again, although my friends of the carnivorous ilk may enjoy good burgers and bangers there.  The environment is nice, and I wouldn’t mind having a pint at The Lord Clyde, though it’ll probably be on the suggestion of someone else.

The Chocolate Festival, Southbank 12/12/09

This Saturday past I went to the Chocolate Festival, an outdoor thing with people selling chocolate and chocolate-related products.  It was a bit smaller than I expected, or perhaps hoping (oh, for a chocolate bacchanalia!), but it was still nice to do something on a chilly Saturday morning that was certainly out of the ordinary, especially when one is accustomed to classes and work and pubs.

This particular Chocolate Festival consisted of various workshops and was held on Friday, Saturday and Sunday from the 11th through the 13th.  I chose to go on Saturday, since I have class Fridays and work Sundays.  I got there around noon, and there was a modest crowd of enthused chocolate fans and some little choco-lovers as well.  There were a variety of chocolate vendors selling their boutique chocolate packages.  One of the interesting vendors had a basil-flavoured chocolate candy, which tasted different from the similar basil chocolate candy I had in Seattle at Theo Chocolate this summer.  The maker of this particular chocolate eschewed cream and butter in favour of water in order to let the flavours of the chocolate and basil to be more prominent.  It was interesting.

At the festival, I puttered around, bought some fudge and hot chocolate, and had a look at many of the chocolate offerings for sale at the vendors.  I was hoping for more free samples, because I’m that much of a greedy bastard, but it was still a nice time, and nothing gets me more excited than the smell of chocolate in the air.