When we arrived in London our hosts (clients? friends? the people who own the house we’re staying in, roll with us here…) did a fantastic job of getting our feet wet, giving us a little tour of a great market street and leading us to some truly fine eats. We were feeling very comfortable in general – plus the house made it easy get cozy – but once they left we still had a little bit of anxiety. Sure we were staying for practically three weeks, but we’re still in London. The options for culture and food and… well, everything are effectively infinite. As in, not actually, but you’ll die before taking it all in so mise well be. Feeling borderline overwhelmed with possibilities we spent a fair amount of time reading reviews and looking at maps, before realizing that there was simply no way to be certain about any of the possibilities, so for dinner that first night we ended up “throwing a dart” – family colloquialism for closing our eyes and picking something on the map randomly. Fortunately, Lisa never totally closes her eyes, and she hit a bullseye at The Life Goddess.

We love Greek food. It took being in Greece and eating nothing but local cuisine for nearly three weeks before we finally said we needed to try something (anything) else. Sadly, where we live now has no Greek food (although there are a ton of similar options in the doner kebab shops, its just not the same). We usually just make it at home, but when we saw The Life Goddess was a short walk, nothing could keep us from trying it. We are so glad we did, it’s a treasure. We started with some of the best hummus and pita we’ve had since Greece. Then Lisa had the beef stew “giovetsi” (braised beef in orzo with cheese and a tomato sauce), and John had a charcoal grilled fish over creamy arborio rice. Portions were generous and — be warned! — they do not do take away. So, if you don’t eat it, you can’t take home the leftovers. (We might bring our own containers next time.) Another restaurant we are looking forward to returning to again.

One of the things L. particularly likes to do when in the UK is have proper tea. Tea, as in high tea. Fancy serve ware displaying tiny sweet and savory morsels, accompanying hot tea, all to be consumed over a leisurely hour or three. This trip, we visited Dalloway Terrace, at the Bloomsbury Hotel. The Bloomsbury is a high-end hotel, but the tea is quite reasonable and makes a full meal. For 48pp you are served four types of sandwich: free range egg salad, roast beef with horseradish, cucumber and cream cheese, and harissa and apricot chicken. The classic sultana scone is joined by an Irish cheddar scone. The sweets layer was made up of an Earl Grey and blackberry dome cookie, lemon and poppy seed choux, pistachio and lemon Battenburg cake, peach melba tart, and a salted caramel madeleine. All of this is accompanied by unlimited tea or coffee. I’m not sure if this is true all the time, but we were offered more sandwiches and a takeaway carton for the sweets we couldn’t consume. In Lisa’s opinion, this was the best tea she’s had in all of her visits.

With our friend, S., we ventured out on a drizzly afternoon to a pub for what we think is the best beef wellington in London. I know, that seems outrageous in a city with (quickly checks) FIFTEEN Gordan Ramsey restaurants (about half of which serve this, his signature, dish). But the last time we were in London (in 2022), Lisa had a craving for it, but just couldn’t swallow spending £80 per person (easily) when she wasn’t sure she’d like it. So she dug around and found The Hemingway Pub.

Once again, this stripped down pub produced a superbly tender, richly flavored, and perfectly cooked filet of beef, wrapped in ham, slathered in mushroom pate, then covered with a flaky pastry crust. So many things can go wrong! Ah, but they didn’t. They don’t skimp on making this, so it’s a full 45 minutes from when you order before you eat, so be prepared to hang out. We shared some crispy pork belly steam buns and the courgette and Halloumi cake with a couple of ciders as we waited. (The menu changes frequently, with dishes reflecting the seasons.) Then the star arrived.

I gotta say,it tasted even better than it looks. Served with sauteed vegetables, hand cut chips, and a red wine jus, this remains one of the better steak moments we’ve ever had. Oh, and it’s £40 for the dish, which easily fed three people.

Our second day of this preamble had a very simple agenda. Our only previous visit to the Victoria and Albert Museum was in 2007 (predating this sort of blogging so we have no link to an old post, sorry) has always sat in our memories . . . not as a failure exactly but definitely as an unsatisfying experience. Back then, our first ever international trip, we made All The Mistakes. The main one was that we were seeing things in the morning and then seeing something else after lunch. That day we did a multi-hour garden tour and we were tired when we arrived. With one exception (foreshadowing! and you thought we’d stopped doing that) we did not take very much in of the museums robust collection. This trip we gave it a whole day. The only other things on the calendar are our meal plans which really, if you’ve been following along, should not surprise you. As Lisa is fond of saying, she starts by figuring out where our meals will come from and then goes from there. (This is probably because of some food horror stories from our early days that we’ll get around to telling some day.) Happily, all three items on our agenda turned out to be big hits.

The Victoria and Albert (or “V&A” going forward) was going to be consumed in two waves. First, we bought tickets for the exhibition “Fashioning Masculinities: The Art of Menswear“. It turned out to be an incredibly well-curated show that demonstrated how society’s idea of what a man is would influence the fashion world, but also how innovations in fashion would shift society’s notions of masculinity. It went back several hundred years, with demonstration pieces showing how medieval battlefield gear made its way into the state rooms, as well as examples of incredibly ornate armor that was clearly mimicking embroidery and lace. There was a portion at the entrance that was just men’s underwear through the years. I don’t know about you, but I had no idea that the staple button-down shirt was exclusively an undergarment back in the day; I never knew I was so lewd back in my office worker days!

After this, we broke for lunch. Lisa is a sucker for a dumpling from any culture – gyoza, gnocchi, dim sum, any variety, any place of origin. When we looked at a map of the V&A and realized it was just up the street from Ognisko Polskie, “The Polish Hearth”, a Polish social club dating back to 1940 and host of birthday celebrations for luminaries like the Duke of Kent. The club has a restaurant and bar, with a menu featuring (dun dun DUUUUN!) pierogi, placki, and blinis in numerous configurations. Oh, and vodka. Lots of vodka. No, seriously. I’ve never seen a menu before that said “please see our vodka list for selection” for ordering a carafe of vodka. It’s not a stereotype when they print it on their menus. Anyway, we dined like fat rats and had an excellent time; Lisa may be the one who hunts down the dumplings but her husband gleefully shares the kill.

Our plan for the afternoon was to go back into the V&A and explore their general collection. As Sun Tzu tells us, however, “no plan survives first contact with a museum”. We had not known when we set out that there was a Beatrix Potter exhibition going on at the same time, and that drew us in. While there certainly was attention paid to Peter Rabbit, it was a retrospective of the woman’s fascinating life. She came to her animal stories from her interest in nature rather than a desire to tell cute children’s stories, and her entire life shows her interest in education and conservation. She purchased a farm in the Lake District, and subsequently collected a number of farms in the region to preserve their character rather than allow any kind of industrial development. Eventually her holdings migrated to the National Trust. Anyway, not to turn this into a book report, but there was a lot more to her than cottontail fluffiness and the exhibition seemed to do justice to all of her life.

We were starting to peter out (herp derp) but there was one last thing we had to see. We often tell this story, of being in the V&A in 2007 and being completely tuckered out. We decided to just find the nearest exit (not always easy in the big museums) and not look at anything we had to. Our route took us through a doorway labeled “Raphael Cartoons.” Now if you know the punchline good for you, but if you are like we were then: “cartoon” does not mean “little doodles” or any such thing. A cartoon is a kind of rough draft in various contexts. In this particular context, it meant the rough drafts for 15 foot long tapestries that were to hang in the Vatican. And do you know what the rough draft for 15 foot long tapestries are? That’s right, also 15 foot long paintings. We were stunned. We had to sit on the benches and just stare for awhile; we were completely unprepared (which, in retrospect, might be the best way to see monumental art like this). And so, this time at least knowing what we were in for, back we went. They’re just gorgeous. Apparently, they have held up better than the tapestries they were designed for; then again, they used so much gold and silver thread in the tapestries that several of them were melted down during the 1527 sack of Rome.

MELTED DOWN.

Our final stop of the day was a pub called The Hemingway. Nestled into a residential neighborhood, it’s clearly mostly a joint for the locals. So what brought a couple of tourists to their doorstep? Beef Wellington. We’d wanted to find a good one (which has been trickier to come by than you might think) but we also didn’t want to pay Gordon Ramsey 200 pounds for the pleasure, so sleuthing was required. In the end, signs pointed us here, and dear Lord it did not disappoint. It was so good that I think the dish goes back onto the “don’t bother ordering anywhere else” list for awhile; regret seems inevitable so long as we can remember this meal. The pub is charming overall and the appetizers and drinks were all tasty, so even if you don’t fancy puff pastry filled with perfectly cooked rare beef (what’s wrong with you?!) I’d still tell you to pop in if you’re anywhere near.

Brains and bellies well stuffed for the day, we packed it in. We had one last touristy day in London before hitting the tracks, and the National Gallery beckoned.