Little Thanksgiving

I haven't celebrated Thanksgiving since moving back to London 5 years ago. Now that my mother has moved back too, and we are missing the old life even more, we decided to follow up some leads, knowing that someone must cater to the large community of American expats here.

So we went to Christophers American Bar & Grill in Covent Garden.

	3 course traditional menu - £38 Begin your Thanksgiving celebration with Christopher’s Cranberry Martini - £8 Roast corn and sweet potato chowder Warm tomato tart guacamole cream, cilantro dressing “Grand Central” oyster and scallop pan roast Traditional ‘Waldorf salad’ smoked duck, walnut oil dressing Slow cooked ballottine of Norfolk Turkey corn bread, hazelnut and Michigan cherry stuffing, cranberry relish, buttered beans and creamed potatoes Missouri roast rump of lamb, Avocado tamale, dried tomato & cilantro dressing Roast Salmon with apple, pecan & wild rice griddle cake Sauteed baby spinach, Californian raisin and pecan brown butter Pumpkin pie bourbon cream Blackberry and apple cobbler blueberry ice cream Chocolate fudge brownie raspberries, vanilla ice cream and hot chocolate sauce

Apologies for not taking the photo before demolishing half the plate!
Waldorf salad with rocket leaves, sliced celeriac, smoked duck slices, golden raisins, and warm walnut oil dressing. Very cosy eating, that!



Missouri lamb rump in a sundried tomato and cilantro (coriander leaf) sauce, with an avocado tamale. Again I'm sorry I ate half of it first :) The medium done lamb was melt-in-your-mouth, mmmmm....



Spiced pumpkin pie with bourbon whisky cream and a sugar wafer. Just the right size dessert.



All rounded off with looseleaf (!) peppermint tea and dark chocolate truffles :P



Mum trying to figure our her new phone camera



Me going strong on the rose wine

We had a wonderful time there and wish we could go for Christmas too (if public transport is working on that day). The service was wonderful, attentive, precise, efficient - the table was even scraped between courses with a brass scoop - something I haven't seen since the Flying Dutchman on the Kemah waterfront in Texas, where we ate things like beef wellington and soft-shell crab.

At Christophers, we forgot we were in London, felt very homey, comfortable, and happy. The sort of happy where your heart rises for a moment. Neither of us have felt that in a long, long time...

From the Big Apple

Am falling asleep at the moment, but wanted to pop in and say I will be back in London in a couple of days.

I am loving every minute in NYC. Have done sooo much, in fact everything I meant to do. It is one spectacular city - the place and the people; one adjective will have to suffice for now. It can be anything to anyone, I think.

Oh, wait till you see the photos! It is a city of great detail and there is beauty even in the corners.

Ciao xxx

Backpedaling?

This is something I will not be posting on the other blog...too many British readers. But I'll have to tell them sometime...

At my current level of determination, before another year is out, my blog may be renamed.
Here are a few possibilities:

Olivia's...

New York Nibbles
Washington Posts (no not really, I'd probably be sued)
Wilmington Wibblings
Baltimore Blabber
Asheville Articulations
Richmond Ramblings
or even
Houston Highlights

Recent events have re-inspired me to all that I wanted before I came back to the UK, only now I have a Master's degree and more work experience.
I have once again turned my eyes to the mid-Atlantic states, and maybe a bit of New England, followed by some other reasonable possibilities.
Not the midwest or the far northeast or the southwest. Can't stand bad snow and slush, or sand and bone-dry air, or being more than a few hours from coastline, for some reason.

After a 4-year hiatus, my resume is back up on the federal jobs networks...
Amongst other suggestions, I'm also trawling through a New York arts related job site sent to me last year by my friend Denise.

To my American readers: If you have any more suggestions, please feel free to advise!

****

Seeing as I've been so reminiscent lately, all the jobs I ever wanted to do since I can remember have returned unbidden to my mind. When I was really little, my mother says I was noncommittal. My first memory of wanting to be something was probably in 9th grade (age 15). So let's start there and work our way up:

--translator at the UN - I studied French from grade 8-12 and then some in university
--archaeologist
--palaeontologist - as above, love doing fiddly things
--dentist - fiddly things + people
--veterinarian - always rescuing animals
--doctor - attended the Young Explorers program at the local hospital but the prospect of not sleeping for 3 years of residency put me right off

By the end of high school I was even more intense, concentrating on the sciences and considering these things:

--joining the Navy, and the Nuclear Power Program tried really hard to recruit me. I had to beg my mother on this one, though. And I wished I had joined the ROTC when I'd had the chance, instead of sitting there envying them...

When I started college with a science concentration, I worked in the biotech lab and thought I was going to become a researcher in the Houston Advanced Research Center, or at one of the many biotech firms in The Woodlands' Research Forest. I remember when the Navy-funded lab there discovered how to grow skin grafts in a dish using only one sample so that burn victims could receive their own skin. That was exciting stuff back then.

Other things I considered:
--NIH or CDC epidemiologist or something at the armed forces institute
--attending the officer training academy after a degree

At university, I soon put aside biology studies in favour of psychology until in the middle of it I realised I didn't want to be a psychologist; nevertheless, here's that list:
--psychologist
--therapist
--counselor
--organisational psychologist
Then my dad got excited about me getting into military psy ops. It was the only thing he ever nearly told me to do.

Returning to type, here was the most interesting phase I reached during my last two years of university, and I actually applied:

--all of the government and military agencies and subsidiaries which are best left unnamed
--foreign affairs officer/specialist with the Dept of State
Suffice to say, I started an International Studies minor and on one application, got to the last stage of examinations and testing before training began, and they said I should try again!
--forensic pathologist (took a criminal justice class and researched grad programs, some with stipends)
--Oh, and I nearly got into one of the NASA programs but while they could accept me taking final exams during orientation, my going off to London for my cousin's first baby was one delay too many. They were right, and I wish I had cancelled.

After graduation, working with the Houston school district psych services, I remember looking at jobs in NYC for:
--editorial assistant
--publishing house graduate training programs
And then art history jumped up and slapped me in the face and I opted for a grad degree in it, which pleased my parents, and let me tell you, they never, ever tried to make me be anything, which is probably why my list of career possibilities is so long and frustrating.

You've got to wonder why I have so often tended towards "serving my country"...

And why it has been stirred up once more by someone I need not name (American Boy), someone who mirrors so much of what I wanted to be before I came here. Added to that, the other signs are rife! I have psyched myself up to this for a couple of years, and this summer finally tipped me over...

To my English friends this sudden about-face seems against my type (the type they know), but to me it is a return to origins. In the States, I had grown up to believe a woman can do anything. I just put it aside when I returned to London and I became the English girl again. By all appearances, I had returned to my roots.

But I have now reached the point where I don't care to impress myself or anyone else with how posh and cosmopolitan we are darling. Now I just want genuine people who take me as I am, no judging, who make me laugh from the inside out, who let me be myself. I want a good finger lickin' barbecue with friends, and the option of running off for the occasional sushi and symphony downtown. I want accomplishment without pretence, success without snobbiness.

Do you know what I mean?

I knew my 30th year would be a year of change. I had no idea how much. I've heard this happens to people as they age, though.

Now, how can I compromise? Being a social/cultural chameleon is soooo tiring...

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Hello dear readers,

Still feeling a bit down. Fed up of being fed up, etc. Still need to cry out the past month's stress and disappointment, but still oddly detached from it all.

Had an informal chat with my new consultant at one of my best agencies this morning. Bright and early at 9am. It took me nearly an hour and a half to get to Sloane Square from Harrow on the Hill. I spent so long in the train I felt a bit sick...that's a new one. I now dread daily commutes from here. Every creak and lurch of that damn Metropolitan line, and the way it lurks and hides in dark tunnels, and stops in the middle of nowhere for minutes on end...ugh.

So, 75 minutes en route for a 15 minute conversation, which fortunately looks like it will bear fruit, as she had some good permanent positions in mind. Plus after lunch, another called to reserve me for a company that asked for me specifically. Took a bit of reminding, but I remember who they are! How flattering. It's the insurance company where I was handing them back the completed work five minutes before they gave it to me.

So I had two hours to kill before my last lunch with American Boy. I walked slooooowly up Sloane Street, up Knightsbridge to Hyde Park Corner, then along Park Lane, shunning the memory of walking with him there on a couple of warm June evenings; from there down a side street, I was following my nose and ended up, ironically, on Grosvenor Square (America haunts me!). So, I decided to park myself on a bench and rest for a while, respond to some texts from friends, enjoy the sunshine, and watch people. Never tire of watching people; it is good therapy. After a while I popped into Selfridges for the loo, went to L'Occitane en Provence for a sniff of lavender to steady my nerves, and then met him for a quiet lunch.

Gosh, did I mention I miss his voice and that lovely accent already? And the way he says "lovely"? And how he is the perfect height and walks at just the right speed for me?

He is going to be a tough habit to break. I never said that about the others because they were not so intense, and frankly bear no comparison. In fact, the bar has been raised, which is something I thought impossible - having dated a posh, polished near-aristocrat and then having that knocked way out of place by a manly and cultured Southerner. Ha! Take that, English public schoolboys! Captain America was just what I needed [to put some hair on my chest, as he would say] and as I said before, he never judged me for being myself.

Obviously, I am not as sad as I was when I posted last Friday. Thank you all for your encouragement, by the way. Sure I will have my moments, but I think I will recover quicker [or more quickly ;) ] this time than I did 3 years ago. My old Texanisms may never go away now, hm? Oh, I've got the public schoolgirl accent for that Christies crowd anytime, but there is always a little unidentifiable twang that people can't quite figure out, developed when I was 12 and trying hard to lose my proper English accent.

As I said, America haunts me now. Everywhere I turn, she is there. I was going to launch into a diatribe about my building reasons for wanting to go back, but I won't offend you Brits or upset my local friends who read this blog. "You Brits", hehe, I have often noticed that I can disown both sides at will. Ah, but most of you know which side I stand up for every time...always have...

Instead, but still not so far off topic *rolls eyes* I want to share with you my most spectacular Freudian Slip to date, from Moody Minstrel's post about driving into the mountains of Japan for a musical weekend:

Pandabonium said...

Moody said, "forsake riding the bus in favor of driving up myself in my BLUE RAV4"

You can take the American out of the US, but you can't take the US out of some Americans. ;^)

Enjoy the music camp.

7:36 PM

Olivia said...

LOL @ Pandabonium

You can also take the English girl out of America but you can't take the American out of the English girl!

9:11 AM

...Followed immediately by my embarrassed retraction. But then I was rather proud of its greatness and decided not to delete it. :)

There, see? Light at the end of the tunnel. Pretty soon I'll be having you all engaged in witty banter once more.

dadgummit

DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT

Everyone else wants to celebrate the 4th of July and they (I know who) dump main [I'm not telling what] duty on American Boy as calls still come in from [somewhere they don't celebrate the 4th] - so no do-dah at the American Amb.'s residence tonight. Yes, that was the upcoming event I withheld last week. Poo. He is not happy with his boss (whom I met at the marines party *ahem* - suffice it to say that when I misbehave Am Boy threatens to give him my number, hehe! (Gosh, I wonder if he knows we are an item and is doing this on purpose...)) and he is very pee'd off about this evening. He's been doing the work of 3 people for the past couple of weeks, plus someone keeps putting him on duty roster on weekends (haha, let's guess who), plus the recent "situations" in London...hence not much going out and more staying in, and now this.

(Man, being cryptic is a new thing for me.)

Whilst walking to the Emb., he made a long apologetic phone call about his recent preoccupation and long hours, and wants to make it up to me over the next couple of weeks after colleagues, plus his secretary, return from vacation and things settle back down. He sounded a lot more like himself again and looked forward to the things we will do and places we will go. I too apologised for any recent inconsistencies. Both of us are under quite a bit of stress.

Like I said...the joys of serving one's country.

(I know, I snuck a blog in after I said I wouldn't!)

The Keys to the Kingdom

But before I start, do you remember my Food Tag? I have been quoted on the restaurant's website!

Cumin Indian Restaurant

**********

And now on to yesterday's excitement. After work I went to see American Boy; I was already dressed for the evening out, but he had to get all prettied up. You know how Americans like to go smart casual in khaki pants, navy blue blazer, nice tie (yellow), loafers. OK first off, he's 27, but when we met him G and I thought he was in his early 30s because on his best behaviour he acts that way. When smart, he's a Ralph Lauren/Brooks Bros/Jermyn Street kinda guy, but proper dress down is the college uniform of frayed jeans, t-shirt or polo shirt and baseball cap with matching boyish humour. Like two totally different people looking about 10 years apart and two vastly different personalities.

By the way, a lady at House of Fraser yesterday thought I was 18 or 19. And you all know I am not. I can have this conversation with people every day, for some reason.

[Now it is YOUR turn to tell me about your dual personalities...I dare you!]

You may have noticed that the day was gloomy but it did not rain - well, the moment we stood on the kerb/curb to hail a taxi, the rain came down in sheets, and an empty taxi did not appear for at least 10 minutes. We had a big umbrella but were still damp and crinkled when we finally got into one. And then the driver would NOT shut up, he went on and on about things I need not afflict you with. R played along with a few comments which only fuelled the fire, and then after we got out he said, "Good lord, that driver would not shut the **** up."

It had taken ages to get to the Tower via the traffic diversions, and then we only had about 45 minutes to eat. We chose an old establishment that claimed to serve steaks but did not, and to top it all off it was the sort of bland English food that I thought no longer existed. Cold ham with piccalilli, grilled sea bass with nooo seasoning whatsoever...it was quiet, wood-panelled, dreary and with the rain, quite depressing, and the other people in there were American which actually ticked off R quite a bit, as we were forced to overhear the girl at the other table tell silly stories about giant cockroaches from Texas. Not that there aren't any, but we did not appreciate hearing about them whilst eating, ugh...And then there was the older lady who came in and nasally announced that she just haad to orderrr fish and chips.

As quick as we could we hot-footed it to the Tower. How can I stop R from carrying the umbrella even when we are not using it? He wields it rather too well and I have to be quick or he'll hook me with it. We got to the gate where W (from last Friday's double date, remember) and the Yeoman warder were waiting to let us in, and then we met W's relatives on holiday here from Virginia. W's wife O had dropped out, being too tired from all the walking around they did in the day. As soon as we got in the Yeoman put all his arms around me and teased me, and R said he could have me, and I made as though to punch R, and the Yeoman predicted a little domestic at the Tower tonight.

We went to the Yeoman's club on the grounds, where I guess the Tower's residents meet to socialise. It is full of memorabilia and plaques from all the official visitors such as police departments and clubs and the like worldwide. We joined about 15 other people on the same special tour. We had a sit down and some drinks while we waited for the Yeoman of the Guards to take us out. We remained a little apart from the hoi polloi, the general public there for the same spectacle, and our group of 7 received a special welcome for some reason.

It was hard to see, but W's aunt placed me and her daughter near the front. R stood on the short wall over the water at Traitor's Gate and was motioning me over to join him, but I am not sure I wanted to stand there, though later he said he would have prevented me from falling in. Yeah right.

I am faffing about because I can't quite tell you what happened. Let's see. It was getting dark; the rain had ceased. A cadre of Royal Marines came marching in to challenge the Chief Yeoman Warder bearing the keys. Once they had shoutily established in a longish back and forth that he was indeed a friend not a foe and that they were the keys of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, the marines escorted him to the outer gate which he locked, then the inner gate, also locked, then we followed them all to the steps where they did a bit of marching about, a bugle call sort of like taps, and then they marched off. And we returned to the club for a last drink and chat.

W's relatives were tired as it was now nearly 10.30 pm, but the Yeoman once again took to attacking me, this time in an attempt at strangulation. R took a photo though we were on better behaviour then. Whilst I was talking to W's cousin, I overheard my name and asked what was going on, and R said "Nothing, just stand there and look pretty" but in the meantime I was being reserved for another double outing this weekend, and a few minutes later I overheard W ask, "Is she going?" and R looked over at me and said, "Yes, she is." I said, "To what?" Apparently, a July 4th do at a place that will be a story in itself so you will just have to come back and find out.

Wild Child

Thursday, though he didn't get off work as early as he'd hoped, American Boy did still take me to dinner in Chinatown. He did not like sending me home past midnight in the bus, and always pays the taxi fare.

So there I was yesterday thinking we'd meet at around 7 for dinner on Friday. However, mid afternoon he called to ask if I'd be ok getting off work at 5 or 5.30. I was fine with that. At 4.30 I got a text saying to meet him now! So, at 4.35, I walked out of the office - that was clever, giving me a double fare yesterday in anticipation of today. He was already at the restaurant - Tuttons, where we had been last week at the opera. When I asked how he had managed to get out of the office so early, he said he'd "just up and left". We sat at the bar with drinks and olives until our 5.30 table reservation came up with a nice view over the square. He doesn't really like olives and fed them to me, so when I said he should have mentioned that when the barman gave me a choice of munchies, he said it was alright because if I'm happy he's happy. How cute is that?

When we got our table, he ordered wine and a plat de charcuterie; I guess his German side rules there. W & his wife O were nearly an hour late, so I was already nicely mellow by then. R said they were lovely, and they were; very sweet, slightly shy, with an air of innocence (though R says W has a raunchy sense of humour - well, don't all military boys when they are together?); a nice couple. I had ricotta and sweet potato tortellini, R had rare tuna steak, O had grilled sea bass, and W had pork loin. They enjoyed the food and O filled out a comments card. When it came to dessert, only we girls ordered, which is the wrong way round, isn't it? I had a brownie with ice cream and she had a sticky toffee pudding and licked the plate clean, whereas I, having had a head start on the eating with the charcuterie plate, halted halfway through and remained full for hours afterwards.

Covent Garden was unusually dead for a Friday night, and that was definitely not because a few thousand people had gone off to Glastonbury...and surely not because there was a bit of rain. Where were the tourists? We were at a loss as to what to do - W was sure he would fall asleep if he sat down at a show or the cinema, so we stopped in a very pretty pub with high ceilings and amazing plaster friezes along the ceilings. O and I sat on a very high, slippery banquette and the only thing keeping us on it was the fact that we were leaning on the table. At first when we sat, a group of 3 guys oohed and aahed at us until W and R came back with their beers.

As we walked up the road with the boys holding the umbrellas, I backchatted R, and we got into a scuffle in which he lifted me up and I whacked him with my jacket. O and W, walking behind, threatened to report domestic violence. :)

Then we parted ways and R took me to a casino, the wicked boy. A nice one with no tourists, and a jazz singer. It was the first time I've ever used my Texas drivers license as ID in this country. What would I have used otherwise???

Anyway, we ordered G&Ts and found a blackjack table for about an hour and won a bit. When W called to say that Glastonbury was live on TV, R actually made me answer the phone which discombobulated both W and me for a couple of seconds! I rarely answer other people's phones. I was somewhat out of it for about an hour or so also, because I really had eaten too much and was unpleasantly stuffed and slightly queasy.

After blackjack we moved to poker. I have played blackjack before in the past at a spring formal but with no money: we were given an allotted number of free chips and I won an imaginary $40,000. By the time we got to the poker table, I was coming back to myself, but have never been able to grasp the concept of poker. So R tried to teach me with utmost patience because although I began to get it after a while, sort of, I think I am a hopeless case. He was impressed that I kept us going for a couple of hours though. It's nice winning on someone else's money. He cashed in the chips and gave me a cut, and forced me to admit that I found it "vaguely interesting" because he noticed the point at which I got this look of concentration on my face...

Good lord have mercy, the boy is just a bundle of mischief and really keeps me on my rusty old toes. And he wants to know why he gets so many dark looks shot his way?!

So anyway, I have won £50. What should I do with it???

P.S. I have a headache.

Tightened Policy

Now on a need to know basis... :P

So. On Friday evening we went for a drink, got lost, had another drink, got lost again, had dinner, and another drink, and walked across half of London (I love how interconnected this city is) on the way home. Drink is such a silly word when you say it too often. But I have learned that a G&T is best if made with Bombay Sapphire and 3 pieces of lime, and that the London bar staff need special instructions on this...

Saturday it was a trip to Richmond for fish n chips. We walked a couple of miles along the river, chilled in the park, went to a biergarten and had a nice meat and cheese platter, travelled back into town, got lost, and then saw Ocean's 13 which was very retro-modern, sophisticated, and surprisingly funny in parts.

1) Getting lost can be fun if it's with someone you like.
2) Taxis are helpful for becoming rapidly unlost, though.
3) Especially if you've both left your maps at home.
4) Being picked up and dropped off at my door is the way it should be done. It is a particularly American habit that would never catch on here for reasons I don't need to specify.

Sunday...take a guess? He came by for lunch and ice cream at a French cafe in my neighbourhood before reluctantly going to a work function nearby, and then texting from there to say it was boring and that he'd MUCH rather be spending time with me. That was such a lovely thing to say.

Much packing I got done this weekend! And my Americanisms are coming back. I ought to try some of 'em out on y'all sometime. ;)

American Escapade

I have met so many people over the past month that the conversations are getting muddled in my head - who lived/travelled/worked where, favourite towns/foods/music, studies, stories, siblings...whew!

So anyway, Friday night housemate G and I went to the Embassy party at the Marines House and I had a wonderful time (although she is English she worked there last year). I had not been there since we applied for emigration. Somebody paid our entrance cover, which gets you a Marines stamp on your hand for the bar. I had forgotten how interesting international Americans are. I felt like...I was..."back home" BUT also that I was at all the college parties I had never been to (our university was Catholic and had no Greek system). The only difference here being that everyone was well-behaved and no one was noticeably drunk despite the drinks being free, and it was all over by 1am. No one even paid attention to the "last call"!

The bartenders were Marines and looked like grown up frat boys, but they were considerate in that they did not put too much alcohol into my drinks, they said so :) Hehe, Malibu and coke...which brings me to my next point - the loos, as I had to go quite often :)
You may laugh, but I couldn't help but notice that, after a while the M and F toilets were soon in use by both sexes, but what amazed me was that everyone without fail closed the toilet lid before leaving. I began to wonder if that had become part of basic training or something.

G and her ex-colleague J introduced me to a guy called R, highly attractive in a preppy ex-Army sort of way. (I've never met an American who served in Iraq before.) Also, I did not know I could have anything in common with a boy from Tennessee but I found that I do! Catholic uni education, Italy, art, psychology, intelligent conversation. I have to take notice of someone who compliments me for using the word "dichotomy". It's funny how when you're at a buzzing party, what people say just falls out of your head later on. He hadn't explored "downtown London" yet and mentioned that he wanted to go to the Tate Modern. Said something about the Marine formal ball, and embassy cars being fun! Argh!

All I know is, I wish I had given him my number when I thought of it. I keep learning, when you think of something, never hesitate or you will miss out. (G wouldn't stop asking me if I liked R, and observing how straight down the line he seems. Yes.)

I had also forgotten that well-educated southern boys were brought up to be such gentlemen. I would not know most of this because in Texas I was only ever friends with them. But a day after I told G, "He was like the grown up version of all the boys I knew at university" I slapped myself because I realised that they were all very lovely boys! Some of you may remember how excited I was about the Aussies. Well, now I am all excited about Americans. Ha, as if I didn't spend enough time over there. So to be finally treated like a woman worthy of notice by one....I was absolutely impressed.

After the party, the four of us went back to J's flat - gosh, the embassy puts its people into some lush properties - in our neighbourhood there are lots of Americans because of the American school, so you can imagine how nice it is. This place was impeccably decorated, with original artworks and sculptures. Couldn't see too much as it was dark and I only found the bathroom light switch after I left, hehe! But even in the bathroom there was a ship in a bottle on the window sill. All so picturesque.

We collapsed on the comfy sofas and fell asleep watching Seinfeld on DVD (I hadn't remembered it was SO funny, I thought I was going to turn inside out). R was out like a light as he'd been up since 5am the day before. G and I snuck out at 2am and walked the few minutes back to our house. :))

Next day my mother (yes I tell her all the gossip) in short, said, "Why didn't you do all that when you were at university?!?!?"