kimbofo

The Heathrow injection

Ten years ago, as I was plotting and planning my backpacking adventure to the UK, several people warned me about the "Heathrow injection". This is a euphemism for getting fat based on a lifestyle of British beer and stodgy foods. (Ben Groundwater, writing on The Age travel blog, calls it the "Heathrow spread" and writes about the subject as if he is the first to ever discover it. I'm pleased to see some people have put him right in the comments.)

Given I was a little on the chubby side at the time, I didn't think I had much to worry about: I couldn't possibly get any fatter.

And I didn't.

At least for the next year or so.

In fact, I lost more than a stone over the first three months of my stay, mainly because I was hauling around a heavy backpack, up and down the country, to London and Scotland and back again. And because I was watching my pennies, I wasn't buying as much food as I might have liked.

It was only when I settled down in London, got myself a proper job and acquired a "man friend", that the weight piled on again. But for almost 18 months I was a rather slim size 10.

A steady diet of nightly pints -- mainly Guinness but I do have a penchant for English ale too -- meant my weight rose gradually to my current (healthy) size 14. Over the past eight or so years, it's fluctuated slightly, tipping size 16 at times, dipping down to size 12 at others. But on the whole I'm probably the same size I was when I left Australia all those years ago. (I figure this is my "natural" weight,  because even when I do vast amounts of cycling my size stays the same although my muscles become very toned and I lose a little bit of flab from around my waist.)

Do I believe in the Heathrow injection? I'm not sure. I don't think the British diet is any less healthy than an Australian one. But the cold, wet weather does make it very conducive to sitting in pubs drinking fattening beer -- and even when it's sunny there's nothing finer than an English beer garden! But I could probably say the same about Oz, couldn't I?

Saturday in Chiswick

The weather this past weekend was lovely and summery, perfect conditions for making the most of our last weekend here in Chiswick before we move back to the flat at the end of the week.

Living out here, two-and-a-half miles further west than we're used to, has been a little bit like being on vacation. The sort of vacation where you eat out (almost) every night and have a fun time exploring all the eateries and pubs you've never seen before.

We spent Saturday afternoon/evening doing just that. We started off at Gordon Ramsay's new pub, The Devonshire, and had a pint sitting in very comfortable arm chairs with the sun streaming through the windows. It was far too early to eat anything on the menu, but the prices seemed entirely reasonable for this part of town where the average price for a pub meal seems to be a rather expensive £15.

Later we sat at an outdoor table at a cafe on the Chiswick High Road for coffee and shortbread, and watched the world pass us by. The street has a very Parisian feel with tall, leafy trees and people parading up and down, most of them pushing babes in prams and speaking all manner of foreign languages.

After a little book-buying splurge in Waterstones, we called in at the Old Pack Horse for a cider over ice, before heading to the river for what we hoped would be a lovely meal at the Bulls Head. It seemed like everyone had the same idea and there was not a table to be had. We took a short stroll further along the Strand and called in at the City Barge for a fairly average feed of fish'n'chips.

En route back to our house-share, we called in at a local wine bar (where I indulged in a delicious frozen margarita) and sat outside as the sun went down, the perfect end to a lovely relaxing day.

Lunch at the Rose & Crown

We spent a pleasant couple of hours at the Rose & Crown in South Ealing yesterday. It's one of those oh-so rare pubs that has a large beer garden, an impressive food menu and never seems particularly busy or crowded. It's tucked away in a quiet residential street, a little off the beaten track, which may partly explain why we have never had a problem securing a table or good service whenever we have visited.

We were first introduced to this pub by an old colleague of mine who used to live nearby. He has since moved to Berkshire, but we occasionally meet him here for a few drinks and a meal whenever he visits London. But yesterday it was simply T and I.

Catching the tube (a 10 minute journey on the Piccadilly Line) purely to visit a pub seems quite radical, if not downright flamboyant, as far as London pub etiquette goes, but we were desperate. In recent times we have decided that all our locals -- we have six or seven within walking distance -- leave a lot to be desired. Frankly, there is nowhere to go for a leisurely Saturday lunch that offers quality food, good service and a pleasant garden to sit in. Thank goodness, then, for the Rose & Crown, where we indulged in a shared BBQ platter (onion rings, chicken wings, chunky chips, stuffed jalapeno peppers) followed by wild boar sausages (for T) and a toasted Brie and Mediterranean vegetable sandwich (for me). It wasn't cheap, but it was worth every penny!

Dinner / tea / supper

The health kick continues with this evening's meal: an assortment of pre-made salads from M&S complemented by a handful of rocket leaves and half an avocado.

No fruit today, although I enjoyed a freshly made concoction of carrot, pineapple, mango and orange from a juice shop in Putney that cost me about half my weekly wages. It didn't taste particularly yummy -- far too much carrot for my liking -- but it immediately soothed my sore throat, which has been bugging me off and on for more than a week now.

Can only hope that the packet of Strepsils I've been munching since about 4pm will finally finish of this bloody annoying throat infection once and for all. I'm really sick of being sick.

Something fruity

After yet another upper respiratory tract infection, I've decided that I need to boost my fruit intake. I eat plenty of vegetables and enjoy at least one glass of juice a day, but I struggle to eat much fresh fruit. Apples and oranges bore me. By contrast, I love bananas but I'm fussy about them, they have to be just right, not too green, not too yellow and so I find it difficult to buy more than two or three at a time because they go "off" before I can eat them.

Today I made myself a delicious fruit salad comprising one firm but just-right banana, some organic strawberries, some pre-cut fresh pineapple (lazy, I know, but worth it to avoid all the hassle of "peeling" a pineapple and chopping up all the meat), a kiwi-fruit and a deliciously sweet passionfruit. The whole mix was absolutely scrummy, and left me feeling very saintly.

That feeling didn't last long though, because later in the afternoon I treated myself to a strawberry tart. So what if the custard-cream filling was highly calorific, the stuff on top counts as part of my fruit intake, right? (I wonder how far I can stretch this theory... )

Who knew pouring a cup of coffee could be so interesting?

[Via Graveyard Barista]

Up all night

So much for a quiet weekend...

We have a guest staying with us from New York. It's the first time he's been out of the country in 25 years, so we thought we should take him to a couple of authentic London pubs.

Joined by a fellow expat Aussie, four of us headed to the Red Lion pub in St. James's yesterday evening for a couple of quiet pints. We then took a short stroll to the Golden Lion, which is a former Gin Palace that survived the Blitz intact and has one of the most amazing interiors -- all etched mirrors and dark wood pannelling -- of any pub I've had the pleasure of drinking in.

Tuna burger

Place: My kitchen.
Date: Friday October 26, 2007.
Camera: Panasonic DMC-TZ3.

I'm no chef, but I whipped this up in the kitchen tonight and it was absolutely delicious!

I lightly toasted two slices of organic brown bread, slathered on some tartare sauce and then topped it with a handful of rocket, cooked slices of red onion and tomato, an egg and a hunky tuna steak lightly cooked in a drizzle of olive oil and lime juice.

Took about five minutes to make, including the cooking time. I guess this is what you call fast food.

A post about the beer festival (and a missing pie)

So, we went to the Great British Beer Festival at Earls Court last night and had a great time.

I got there at about 4.30pm but T and our mate JB had already got a good two-hour head start on me. We were joined by two of T's colleagues, and later one of JB's mates and a friend arrived, so all up there were seven of us imbibing a wonderful range of ales and ciders and perries (I stayed away from the latter, just the smell of fermenting pears was enough to put me off, never mind the incredibly high alcoholic content).

Our party of seven found a quiet pillar on which we took turns to lean (there is never enough seating at this festival) and we'd each go off in search of a new beer whenever our pint glasses ran dry. I think this is the first time in my life where I've gone drinking and bought all my own beers and none for anyone else! But this really wasn't the place to do "rounds" -- it was far too busy at the bars and you'd never be able to carry them back through the heaving crowds.

To avoid the hassle of pushing through the throngs we stayed put in between the bars for the North-east of England and East England. (Although at one point I did venture further north to try a raspberry fruit beer from the Belgian bar.)

They bill the festival as the "biggest pub in the world" and they're not half wrong. Half of London seemed to be at last night's event -- you really noticed how the venue filled up with the after-work office crowd because as soon as 5pm came around you could barely move.

This little piggy went to the Great British Beer Festival...

...on Tuesday night...
...and looks set to go again tomorrow...
...because there's nothing I like more than hanging out with strange bearded men with the biggest beer bellies you've ever seen...
...and odd-shaped women who look like old trolls...
It really is an eye-opening experience attending this festival...
...and not a very good advertisement for drinking large quantities of beer...
...but I go every year...
...because it's so much fun trying new ales and people-watching...
...and, well, you know, it's a good place to buy souvenir pint glasses to add to my collection...
...I've got seven so far...
...and I'll bringing home the eighth tomorrow!
Stay tuned for a proper "report" on the weekend...provided I survive the Friday night crush.