Fortnum and Mason, a delight for the senses

I was first in London as a lad, a millennium  ago, melting my way into the ways of the  world. London smiled and led me into a wonderland of “yes indeed.” For Hemingway Paris was a moveable feast.  My feast was London and so it remains. To this day, the lady is still smiling and offering  a banquet. 

Although there are many,  one beautiful delectable charm is Fortnum and Mason. To label it as a grocery store is akin to mistaking priceless diamonds for rough gravel. This sparking jewel dates back to 1707.

Walk through the beautiful doors and feel surrounded by luxury.  Ladies and male clerks, dressed in black and white livery, coats and tails, stand ready. My first stop is the seemingly never ending array of tins of every known variety of tea, many of which have found a comfortable place in my cupboard. 

Just tea?  Oh poor things! You have yet to go there.  Pies and pastries, mustards, sauces, jams and jellies and on a floor below, fabulous wines and liquors.  Men and women’s attire on floors above. A glory land for selective shoppers! And yet there is more. Tea rooms and delicious luncheons, because in London, Fortnum and Mason is a satin tradition.  Before you leave, be sure to go upstairs and sample the store’s own gin distillery. Yes, they offer tastes of white gin, pink gin, and others. 

Now let's move on.

 Next door to Fortnum and Mason, be sure to step into Hatchards, the city's oldest bookshop, where you'll find, among the many tomes, autographed selections from well known authors.

Time for lunch? Or maybe a noontime cocktail?  Why not?

Around the corner from Fortnum and Mason, you’ll find 45 Jermyn Street, connected and owned by Fortnum and Mason. Delicious meals! My preference is to sit at the bar and converse with loquacious barkeepers.  It’s where I learned how to make a Perfect Manhattan. A hint: it starts with Four Roses! 

With lunch and a tipple behind you, is there more to see and do and marvel nearby? Do some shopping along along Jermyn Street. Mens and women's clothing, shoe shops, famous perfume shops, and a fabulous cheese shop. 

Oh, child! You’ve just begun the trek through a wonderland!

London Today, Yesterday, and Tomorrow

 

London has a sameness, an old grandmother of a city, but at the same time, you might easily be surprised by changes.  

 

Where I stayed in Kensington, there were five coffee shops on the street facing the hotel. Four of them no longer accept cash.  Gotta use a card.  One waitress offered to take cash, but added, “I have no way to give you change.”  It was £5 for coffee and toast.  I had a £20 note.  No choice but to use my card.  Nothing appeared on the menu and no warning on the front door that said cash was not used.

 

London (don’t know about the rest of Britain) is not the only place on earth getting rid of cash. Sweden is almost cashless and furthermore your card better be a “tap” card, although some places may still accept the old fashioned cards.

 

In London pubs, at least ones I went to, do accept cash, but I wonder for how long.

 

Not everything is changing. Pubs are still open at eleven o’clock or noon. I don’t know why; some are 11 and some are 12.

London has a vast array of museums of every sort, 192 museums in fact, placing them #5 in the list of cities with the most museums.  You can look up the rankings, but you probably want to know who is #1. Paris with 297.

 

My favorite London museums are, in no special order:

 

The British Museum with everything imaginable, including miles of architectural exhibits from all over the world, as well as the famous this and that, of which my favorite is the Rosetta Stone, from which linguists learned the secrets of many ancient languages.

 

The National Gallery, housing art of every sort, including a masterful collection of Impressionist paintings.

 

And very close to the National Gallery is The National Portrait Museum where I recently viewed a collection of David Hockney’s work. 

 

The V & A Museum (Victoria and Albert), which houses so very many cultural items.  I had a wonderful guided tour, with a guide who knew everything about clothes worn through the ages.

 

There are many war museums, including Churchill’s War Rooms and The Imperial War Museum, plus many others.

 

Special exhibits change, so look before you go.

 

How about evening activities?  My favorite, bar none, are the theatres. I buy my tickets at the discount kiosk in Leicester Square. Leicester is pronounced Lester.

 

Very easy to get around in London.  The Tubes (Underground rail) connect every part of the city. With a new twist, you no longer have to use an Oyster Card as a ticket, which is a card that you refill with £ on machines (that are in every station). These days you can use your credit or debit “tap” card to ride.

 

How about getting from the States to London? There are Atlantic crossings if you prefer to go by ship.  Or, if you want to dash over and back, air travel is in great supply.  My two favorite airlines to London are Virgin Atlantic and British Air.  Not fond of the U.S. airlines. 

 

Heathrow and Gatwick are the two major airports that service London.  Very similar in distance, but my favorite is Heathrow with an easy tube ride to the Kensington area where I usually stay. Lots of nice hotels, pubs, restaurants, and transportation to every part of the city.

 

I’ve been to London off and on for over five decades and written of my adventures.  Below is a list of those on my blog.

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2017/11/theres-something-about-london.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2016/01/posh-london-tour-of-st-james-street.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2015/04/london-various-pubs-various-pleasures.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2015/02/going-down-tubes-part-tube.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2014/12/finding-london-bookstores-adventure.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2013/11/the-national-portrait-gallery-london.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2012/06/down-tha-local-tasty-british.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2021/11/theatres-fun-in-london.html  Especially for plays, it’s best to check online.  Theatre productions come and go.

 

When to go?  I like early fall, or early spring.  Not so crowed and I’ve had great luck with the weather.  BUT, whenever you go, London is going to be a wonderful treat!

Bar Américain, Among the Swankiest of Swanky London Bars

 

Bar Américain

Bar Américain, Among the Swankiest of Swanky London Bars

 

In London, I do most of my drinking in pubs, the pride of England’s social life.  Pubs are a social leveler where you see tattooed, scraggly construction workers idly chatting with coat and tie business men and clusters of women old and young passing the time of day over pints of brew and glasses of wine, and cider.

 

But, there is another side to London’s drinking habits, a classier side with women in elegant dresses, men in coats and ties and  delightful cocktails that cost nearly as much as…well, you get the picture.

 

On my last trip to the capital of English money and the scene of English fashion, I dropped a few £ at a very classy watering hole, Bar Américain, deep inside and downstairs in the Brasserie Zédel, which is not to be confused with the world famous American Bar in the landmark Savoy Hotel.  The American bar is world famously historical for a reason and I’d easily slip in for a sip or six, but right now let’s concentrate on Bar Américain.

What makes a good bar?  In my opinion you only need one word: gentility.  But since my three faithful readers no doubt need a wider explanation, I have one right here and ready.   A gentile bar requires comfortable seating, music at a level fit for the low tones of polite conversation, subdued lighting that speaks of luscious romance, with a wait staff that is not there to be your friend, but to serve you with care and consideration.  The staff wear classically smart uniforms of a quality meant to serve the queen.  Should you choose to sit at the bar, which I normally do at 45 Jermyn Street, the bar staff must be incredibly knowledgeable and ready to provide a depth of information about each and every bottle behind the bar. No doubt they have tasted each and at times wept over the wonderful flavors. Only mention tune of your taste buds, and they will offer samples of those drinks for which you are not familiar. And while you sip at the table or the bar, you will munch on an assortment that begs you to ask:  Where did you find these wonderful tidbits?

 

Need a list of such prominent places to sip and enjoy the evening?  Of course you do.  Although I’ve provided photos of Bar Américain, Here’s a list, but certainly not an all inclusive list, of other of London’s gentile places to sip and ponder and gaze into those beautiful eyes that….well, we shan’t go too far… and besides, I could barely afford the drinks let alone some frolicsome gazing.

 

American Bar at the Savoy Hotel

45 Jermyn Street (click on the link)

45 Jermyn Street

Duke’s Bar at the Dukes Hotel (click on the link)

Dukes Bar

Any of the bars at the Dorchester Hotel, but especially the Promenade Bar

Don’t you just love the way the English use past participles that we colonials has let drift away:  I shan’t do that, the flowers smelt nice, I hope you have learnt from your mistake.  (But if used as an adjective you still must used learned)  It was a lesson well learned.

 

Even the use of shall has faded into the past of American English.

 

Ah, well, on we go, back to the gentile Bar Américain.

 

The layout is vast and yet the placement of the tables, and the way the room is broken up and flushed with soft light, gives the feeling of intimacy.  The wait staff, dressed in livery, is both professional and polite.  In seconds you know they are well trained and their job is done with pride.  “What may I offer you, gentlemen?”

 

What about the drinks?  I sipped a Perfect Manhattan.  And what is a Perfect Manhattan?  Your favorite bourbon, with a dash of bitters, and a splash of both sweet and dry vermouth, with a sweet cheery.  Because I know you’re sitting on the edge of your seat to find out….I prefer Four Roses, but oddly enough the original, instead of the single barrel and others from the talented minds of merchandizers. My companion had the same, for a great reason.  Not only is our favorite cocktail, it was also our father’s favorite.

 

A Manhattan is best when served in a stemmed, chilled glass, bringing back the days of Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck.  Ah, yes, the days when Hollywood stars weren’t just beautiful, they were glamorous, as is the Bar Américain!

So, the next time you’re in London…Well, here’s looking at you, kid!

Enter and Exit London In the Dark Days of Covid

 

Enter and Exit London In the Dark Days of Covid

 

Surely my three faithful readers noticed my absence, even though no emails came my way, bemoaning their loss, and begging for blog articles to lighten their loads and light up their lives.  Well, you see, I’ve been abroad, to the land of King Arthur, Robin Hood, Will Shakespeare and a long list of sovereigns.  

 

How do English school kids manage to remember all the names of kings and queens?  No idea, but I do know how they keep track of Henry VIII’s six wives. “Divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived.”

 

Cute jingle, but back to the topic…

 

Getting to the UK these days takes fortitude.  With the scourge of the world, the Chinese flu, upon us, doors have slammed and No Entry signs posted, but at last, things are beginning to brighten.  Good thing.  My thirst for Brit beer was becoming a problem.

 

So, what do you have to do to gain entry to (and exit from) the United Kingdom?  Here’s a list:

 

1.    Get your covid shots.

2.    Purchase your airline ticket. 

3.    Fill out the air carrier’s forms and follow the link to the UK forms

4.    Fill out the 4 page UK form about when you are arriving, leaving, where you are staying, and sign up for a covid test for when you get there.

5.    Just to be sure, I took a covid test within 72 hours of my flight, because if you get to the UK and test positive, you will be quarantined for 8 days. (the time period seems to change semi-secondly)

6.    Present proof of vaccination, passport and completed UK form when you check-in for your flight. Masks required for the entire flight, except when you’re eating and drinking.

7.    Take your UK covid test within 2 days of arriving in the UK and post the results to the company whose test you took.  This is tricky.  Only one test per email address, and once you use two people for one email address, good luck trying to get the second one EVER posted. I found that out after talking to the testing company off and on for three days trying to clear things up.  I also found that that no one EVER bothered to track me down.

8.    Time to enjoy yourself in London

BUT

9.    Within 72 hours of flying out of the UK, you must be tested for covid before boarding your flight home.  This is a U.S.A. requirement and all documents must be presented at check-in. Pharmacy across the street from my hotel handled this for about $65.

 

Next question:  How strict are the covid restrictions in London?

 

Everywhere you go there are signs that mandate that masks be worn.  This is largely ignored by one and all.  At Boroughs Market, people were so packed in that I could not get to a stall to buy anything.  Perhaps ten percent of the folks wore masks, although all the vendors did.

 

Tubes, the same way.  Stores, the same.  However, different story for pharmacies, other medical facilities, and theater performances.  At one play, not only were masks required, but the ushers checked our proof of vaccination.

 

Never saw a mask in a pub or a restaurant, or a bookstore.

 

In short, with few exceptions, in Britain, the strict mask rule is not very strictly enforced.

 

The day after I got back in the U.S.A. I started feeling bad, so I got tested one more time.  Positive for covid.  One terrible night and then things got better fast.  The doctor I saw suggested shots of Regeneron.  I took his advice and as advertised I felt much better within a day.  Four shots.  Two in each thigh.  Given all at once and with the caveat:  Don’t get the covid booster for a couple of months.

 

Now I have all the paperwork to prove I am both positive and negative!  Welcome to international travel! But, I did enjoy the beer!

Curry Adventure in London

 

This piece was written much earlier, on one of my London adventures.  You see, my brother and I meet there every couple of years.  I don’t remember the date of this visit, but I remember the food.

 

My first night in London, I spent roaming the streets of the area called Soho.  Not the most picturesque parts of London, but certainly one of the most colorful.  There is an ever abundance of ex-colonialists, mainly Indians, but also many blacks and Chinese as well.  Only the Indians, at least the women, have any hold on their national dress; everyone else has made the conversion to western attire.

 

You have to listen carefully to the other foreigners who live in London, since most have learned their English from Englishmen and speak with a kind of Hindustani- Oxfordian accent, with as many twists and turns as a chased rabbit.  Soho is especially blessed with these converts to cradle to grave security, and the area features as many Indian and Chinese restaurants as there probably are in Madras, or Hong Kong.  Each promises “authentic cooking,” Peking Style,” with rows of barbecue ducks hanging on hooks to prove it, or  “Best Curry and Tandori.”

 

On some streets, the spicy zest of curry overpowers everything else, which is fine if you like curried dishes, which I do, but may be a bit much for those with McDonalds conditioned taste buds.

 

Anyway, with my brother still a day away, and me being both hungry and needing to kill some time, I breezed into The New Curry Centre, stared at the menu handed me by a stubby, olive complexioned Indian man  with flashy white teeth, and under his supervision I ordered Moglai Meat and a dry vegetable curry.

 

As I passed the waiter on my way to washing my hands, I casually mentioned I like my curry very hot.  He yelled down the dumbwaiter to the cook, and when the food got to me it was spicy hot enough to dissolve the silverware.  Christ, I bit into that stuff and tears came to my eyes.  The waiters were standing by the bar to see me go up in smoke and I’m sure they were taking side bets on whether I would be a one alarm or a two alarm fire.

 

Now, I do like hot food, but this stuff was like treating heartburn with a bottle of Tabasco. Nevertheless, pride prevailed and I ate every bite without ever reaching for my water glass.

 

The waiters were greatly impressed and besides offering me some “special ice cream,” which I turned down since it was probably made with dry ice, they gave me a standing ovation on my way out the door.

 

The next day was much like the day after a party, when you swear never to drink again.  But, my brother was hungry for curry and of course I had to impress him….

Anything for a Buddy

Anything for a Buddy

It was an old, but well kept pub in the heart of Kensington, with the smell of hand pulled ale and floating memories of conversations.  

Josh sat on a stool at a high-topped table and sipped his pint in silence. Muted sounds of street traffic played softly, while the faded afternoon sun crept through muntin windows and crawled across the ancient tiled floor.   His friend, Alex, wanted to say something, but when a man is in the depths, best not to speak, so he just sipped and looked around. 

Josh’s wife had filed for divorce two weeks prior and Alex had gotten him away from the soulful sorrow of a rotting marriage and into the frenzied fun of London.  But, in his experience only one thing did the trick to stop the heartache in a split second.

Part of Alex’s charm was solving problems, but this time was a different sort of problem, with blood spilling from a broken heart.  For the first few days, Alex pressed fun into the open spaces, but Josh showed no interest in museums, the theater, or shopping.  Alex was almost past the point of trying.

He’d offered advice, sparkling wit and booze in the finest pubs.  They all slid off, like Jell-O on a slick wall.  

“Josh, you’ve got to shake yourself loose.  Take a deep breath.  Think of the bad times and kick her ass off that marble pedestal.”

Josh stared down at his pint, tired of the clichés and suggestions.  He wanted to just go back to the hotel and sleep.  Still hadn’t figured out a troubled mind never sleeps.

Alex withdrew into his own thoughts and one of them was how happy he was unmarried. 

He shouldn’t have liked this pub, but he did. He’d been here before with Charlene on their last trip together, before the breakup, when her smiling company was still an enchantment. They should rename The Sergeant at Arms to Bust My Balls. Still, the atmosphere of faded posters and the tin ceiling that must have been here when Henry the Eighth got pissed at the pope, drew him in. It was a kind of soft comfort. 

In Big cities from New York to Hong Kong, Alex frequented establishments where bartenders called customers sir, dressed in black and white livery and remembered the names of the well heeled.   Bartenders always remembered his.

“Who’s the lawyer?”

“Paulie Boy.”  Josh said the name with a straight face. 

Paul Alexander Christopher somehow crept through law school, and the state bar exam with only the half-determined effort of a dying sloth.  

“Why’d you pick him?” 

“We have something in common.  He divorced Margaret’s sister, Peggy.” 

“Who’s Margaret got?”

“Victoria Douglas.”  

Bad luck.  VD, as she was known by a host of poverty stricken ex-husbands, had the killer instinct of a Great White in a pod of seals. Alex knew a few of her victims.

Paulie was a seal.  Alex swallowed his pessimism.

Until now, Josh’s life had ticked like a metronome, while Alex, who worked for the same large global firm, was happily pulled in different directions.  He thrived in the fierce subtleties of negotiations and corporate intrigue.  Charm and persuasion made him invaluable.  The hard heart of a negotiator also made him practically invulnerable to heartache.  By the time he sat down to negotiate, he knew what both sides needed, wanted, and what they had to lose. He followed the same method in his personal life.

If Alex had a fault, it was exuding a confidence that seemed too self-assured, too jutted of jaw, his eyes too blue and uncomfortably intense. Even his friends had the strange feeling they were outside his world looking in.  A thin, vaporous mystique presented him as a man totally in control.  The less assured kept their distance, and their wives close.

Josh took the ordinary path.  If Alex was a corporate lion, Josh was the durable donkey, good work ethic, but only able to stumble up the rungs of the corporate ladder.

These days, Alex was without a woman and as much as he tried to sympathize with Josh’s situation, he just didn’t get the part about closing things down.  No kids?  Woman’s gone?  So what? All she’s taking is a wad of cash and maybe a house. She’s not taking your life. Cash and house you can get back.

Happened sometimes to Alex, women leaving, but instead of wilting, it made him more solid within himself. He carried a careless disregard for fate.  He was normally cautious, with a quiet streak of suspicion, and he found relationships interesting, but only as one of the curiosities of life.  The kind of woman who attracted him possessed strength of independence and a loving personality, someone who stayed close, but didn’t interfere. He hadn’t met her yet.

Why the hell couldn’t his friend brace up?  He looked like a man who needed to use the gent’s, but was afraid of falling in.

Alex understood the psychology of broken hearts less than he understood polynomial equations.  They leave, or you leave, and life goes on.  And, women’s emotional directions were as straight forward as bees in a flower garden.  He preferred his own analysis to the words callous, or unfeeling.  It was a matter of controlling raw emotions and looking beyond the problem.

When Josh’s wife blindsided him by filing for divorce, Josh had wilted like last month’s daffodils. Alex stepped in and looking beyond; he’d paid the airfare and gotten his long-time pal out of town.  The muddy circles under Josh’s eyes, and a set of new wrinkles on the brow showed how well the plan hadn’t worked.   But, Alex saw a no as only one bend in the road.

“Josh, we’re headed to Duke’s Hotel for a martini, and after that a short walk to 45 Jermyn Street. And before we sober up, we’ll take a taxi to the hotel.”

“I don’t….” 

Alex broke in with a smile. “I don’t give a shit what you don’t want to do.  And I’m tired of the sacrificial lamb act.”  A broader smile. ”Cheer up! I want a goddamn drink in a decent bar, with a competent barman and a bill that makes you blink twice.  You’re coming with me.”

Alex’s phone rang.  He gave short answers.

“Who was that?  Who knows you’re in London?”

“Business never stops.”

“But, I’m…”

“I’m buying and we’ll drink where I say.”

Duke’s Bar, at Duke’s Hotel often has a wait time, but they lucked out. A waiter in black trousers and white dinner jacket seated them at a corner table.  

Duke’s bar is more like an elegant sitting room than a bar.  A very comfortable sitting room.  They ordered, or rather Alex ordered Vesper Martinis for the two of them.  The drink cart came and the waiter mixed the drinks in frosty glasses, with an array of frosty bottles, then added a twist of orange peel.

By the third sip, Josh livened up. “Great place,” he said with appropriate enthusiasm.  “And I don’t care if she takes everything.”

“That’s the spirit.  But, the big question is, did you really love her, or was she just a habit?”

Josh scrunched up his face and lightly bit his lower lip.  “I don’t know anymore.”

“Yep, she was a habit.  I’m telling ya, this place and this drink have pixy dust.  Covered with it.  Things happen here that don’t happen anywhere else.

Now turn around in your seat and meet Amelia.”

“What?”

“The woman at the table behind you.”

Josh turned slightly, looking over his shoulder, then turned back to Alex, with astonishment.  “How’d you know her name?”

“Psychic….also she still has a name tag on from some conference.  Want to know more?”

Josh waited.

Alex heaved a deep sigh, as if he was going to lead the horse to water and hold his head under. “She’s here for a conference and drinking at one of the most expensive bars in a town of expensive bars, so she’s got money.  She’s also alone.”

“Maybe she wants to be alone.”

“Unlikely.  Great city.  Maybe her first trip.  Feels like a foreigner.”

“What if she doesn’t want to be bothered?”

“Hi, Amy!” Alex said.

The woman, mid forties, turned with a look caught in the crack between ‘leave me alone’ and it won’t hurt to be civil.’  “How did you know my name?”  On her guard, ready to be offended. She also had an English accent.

Alex pointed to her name tag.  She looked down. Laughed. “I forgot to take the damn thing off.” She unpeeled it, looked down and slipped it in her small clutch. “You here for the conference, too?”

“No chance.  What conference?  Who do you work for?”

“Brooks and Allen.”  She nodded. 

“We’re both with Tex-Martin. But, you’re English.”

“No kidding,” she said. “Big company. London office.”

“Sorry. Should have offered intros.  I’m Alex and my noble friend here is Josh.”  Amy smiled again.  Josh smiled back.  Suddenly he was more animated.

A mountain of small talk followed.  Mostly the two of them, with Alex just along for the ride.  “Listen,” he said, “I’ve got to cut out soon, but I’m sure Josh would like to buy you a drink. We were headed to 45 Jermyn next.”

“I love that place,” Amy said.

“Would you mind taking Josh with you? I really do have to leave.”

Josh gave him a quizzical look.

“Boss called,” Alex said.

“Oh.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Amy said, “but, don’t you want to join us?”

“Would love to, but duty calls.” Alex smiled.

He got back to the hotel.  Made a phone call and gave his credit card number.  “Best thousand bucks I ever spent.” He smiled.  “Anything for a buddy.”