English Eating

Most people don't think of eating when they think of England. Fascinating history, yes. Amazing drama and literature, yes. Awesome music, definitely. Great places to eat, not so much. But when we go to England, we have two places we have to eat, and given, they're not typical English food (I mean, hello, check out the Full English in the photo. No thank you) and maybe because of this, they are among my favorite restaurants in the world.

The first is an Asian inspired noodle bar called Wagamama. Anyone who knows me knows I love this place and would do just about anything to get one close to home (although they do have one in Boston now, so maybe they'll make their way out West at some point). I love the gyoza and the kare lomen, which is a great noodle soup with chicken or shrimp in a coconut curry broth. Another favorite is the yasi katsu curry. Basically, I'd like to mainline this curry sauce directly into my veins. Why do I love Wagamama so? Mainly because everything tastes so fresh and is ALWAYS good when we go. And it brings back fantastic memories of living in London. It was fun to introduce it to the kids, who loved it by the way:

The boys both loved their noodles.

And Max loved the kid's chopsticks, that work like tweezers and were so much fun him to use on both his noodles and Steve's nose.

And I loved my yasi katsu. That's an eggplant I'm eating, and I wish we would embrace the use of the eggplant as much as Europeans do. An eggplant is a truly wonderful thing.

We also made it to a new favorite of mine, Gourmet Burger Kitchen, (or GBK to the locals). You that know me are probably going "What?! A Burger Place?!" and I have to say I am just as surprised as you are that I love this place so much. Really, I probably eat a burger, I'd say, maybe, once or twice a year, but if burgers tasted this good at home I'd have a big, big problem. Again, it's not a truly English place since it was created by New Zelanders, but the beef is fresh, the preparation is innovative (and who knew you could do something new with a burger?), and everything is made on the spot, so you don't get anything that has been sitting under a heat lamp. Ever. And their fries are awesome too. Check it out:

I love these little tomato shaped ketchup bottles on the tables at GBK. I need one to take home.

Real Diet Coke (not Coca-Light) in real glass bottles. Love it.

Can you feel the GBK love?

Our friend Tim, who introduced me to GBK on my last visit to London, challenged Steve to eat one of their signature Kiwi Burgers (which includes an egg, pineapple, and beets). Steve thought better of it and got a Avacado Bacon Burger instead.

And my favorite has to be the Garlic Mayo Burger. Sounds unassuming enough, but that Garlic Mayo is crazy good. Like crack cocaine good. I'm not kidding.

So we had a very successful trip to London, and probably gained a few pounds (and I don't mean Sterling) in the process. More on the actual stuff we did vs. stuff we ate in London later.

London Was A Journey, Not A Destination

Well, at least it felt that way when we went to London via the Eurostar on Thursday, and had a FOUR HOUR DELAY because of technical problems. Luckily the wait was in the train station with lots of food and room to walk around, and we got a free round trip ticket for our inconvenience, but it made our trip to London a bit shorter than planned. But with any kind of travel, you have to take the good with the bad, or rather recognize the good in the bad. So, here's some of the good stuff that came from our delay:

At least we were sitting down in the (marginally) heated waiting area instead of in the lines outside in the freezing Gare du Nord. Seriously, these poor schmucks had to stand there the whole time we got to sit and eat and take it easy.

We got to catch up on our sleep and our email.

We got to know each other, and some complete strangers, better.

And we had a few laughs along the way.

But, best of all, I got this next little series of photographs of Jack looking out the window when we finally got on the train. Had we traveled on schedule, I never would have had the beautiful, late afternoon light to capture this moment.

In the end, the whole experience was a great reminder that life is short, and filled with unexpected delays, so it's important to remember to enjoy the ride.

Pictures Of Jesus And Stuff

My good friend Alison, who just happens to be house sitting for us while we are in Paris, loves to tell stories about American tourists. She's Australian and has done a lot of traveling, and seems to have a hilarious American tourist story for every city she's visited. My all time favorite is when she saw some Americans waiting in line for the Uffizi Gallery in Florence and the lines were really long. The American tourist in front of her was getting antsy, and when they saw some other American tourists coming out of the gallery they seemed to be summing up if it was worth the wait when they asked "So, what's in there anyway?" and the other American tourist said "Oh, you know, pictures of Jesus and stuff."

I love it. And we wonder why Europeans don't take Americans seriously.

So, whenever I go to museums with classical European art, you know, the ones with lots of pictures of Jesus, I think about this story and have a little laugh to myself. And we had just that kind of experience when we went to the Musée national du Moyen Age (Museum of the Middle Ages) in one of the oldest parts of Paris. You walk around a corner and bam, it hits you, a castle in the middle of the city. The boys did okay at this museum, mostly because of the story of St. Denis. I mean, it is pretty compelling.

SAINT DENIS

St. Denis introduced Christianity to the Gauls around 250 AD, becoming the first bishop of Paris. He was martyred when the Romans beheaded him on a hill outside the city. Most historians think this is the origin of the name “Montmartre” (the hill of the martyr). According to a legend that appeared three centuries later, the slain St. Denis stood back up, picked up his head, and walked all the way to the current site of the Basilica St. Denis, where he collapsed and was buried. The church denounced this story during the 17th century, having come to the conclusion that St. Denis was most likely executed at the spot where he was buried, not at Montmartre. Any time you see a statue of a saint carrying his own head, that’s St. Denis (there’s one on the façade of Notre Dame).

The boys loved the idea of this dead guy picking up his head and carrying it across Paris, so they had to check it out. Here's the photos:

An ancient well in the courtyard of the castle/museum. The boys looked down and you couldn't see the bottom. Good thing there was a grate blocking it.

The man of the hour, St. Denis. I'd like to thank him for carrying that head across Paris so my kids could be interested in medieval history. He deserves his place in heaven for that feat alone.

Jesus.

More guys with missing heads, but the heads were found close by. Actually, these statues used to be on the facade of Notre Dame way back when.

Max with his map and timeline of the museum. The boys had fun finding the things in the pictures.

Jack's favorite was the two coffins we found in a back area. Scary.

This carving from a triptych blew me away. I have to say, I am always in awe of the dedication these artists had towards their faith in Christ. To spend this much time creating something to celebrate his life and death is truly inspirational.

Another head, this time the one of Christ after the crucifixion. It was really creepy and moving because it looked so real.

And there's always some Mary thrown in for good measure. I loved the color on this statue, and was in awe that it was still so vibrant seeing as it was created in the 1600's.

I love these leaded glass windows, and that you can see the castle wall through it. When I look through this kind of window I like to think of all the people who have looked through them before me, and how the view has changed over hundreds of years.

At the end of the day, the kids did pretty well, but I suspect that sweet smile Jacks wearing in this photo has something to do with the fact that it is time to go home.

Saint-Valentin à Paris

Okay, I know it's been a few days, but we were in London for the weekend, and that will take quite a few posts to catch you up on, so I'll just fill you in on how we spent Valentine's day with tout la monde in Paris.

Seriously, Paris on Valentine's Day? Insane.

But it was a beautiful, albeit cold, day in Paris, and since those are few and far between, we couldn't waste it.

We decided to go out this afternoon to do what every kid wants to do on Valentine's Day: See Modern Art! Here's how it went:

We got the boys to the Pompidou Center by telling them about the cool escalators in tubes that take you to the top. Max was into it at this point (and, by the way, he has lost two front teeth in two weeks. It's pretty hilarious watching him eat a baugette).

After we all rode up we had a big, wide view of all of Paris.

And we also had a great view of the bubble guy, which made the rest of our visit to the Pompidou a little trying for all of us.

Then the reality hit Max and Jack: Mommy and Daddy are going to make us look at art. I thought they might enjoy the Matisse room since Jack loves to cut and paste.

I'm guessing that Max is whispering in Jack's ear something like "Hey, if you start crying now, we can get out of this place." Luckily he didn't listen.

Checking out some Dubuffet. I'm sure Max is turning around to say "Can we go see the bubble guy now?"

Uh, Jack, you need to turn around to see the art.
At this point we called it and headed out to see the bubble guy.

Okay, so the bubble guy is kinda cool. But grumpy. C'est Francais, n'est-ce pas? It was fun to watch all the Parisians in line smile and laugh at the kids as they chased the bubbles. After an especially big one Max said "Oh my gosh!" very loud, and they all laughed. It was one of those moments I forgave the Parisians for all their sins.

And then to one of our favorite places to eat in Paris, L'As du Falafel for some killer falafel.

Jack was not a fan. But at least he ate some pomme frites.

And then for a walk around The Marais looking in shop windows and checking out art.

And just before getting on the Metro, we saw some beautiful cakes made just for Saint-Valentin. Amazing. So amazing, in fact, we stopped at a patisserie on the way home for a Valentine's treat of our own.

Valentine's in Paris? C'est très bon.