Three London Bars

Three London Bars

Recently, I went to London with three companions.  To be more precise, I went to London with three guys who enjoy a good glass or two of booze.  To be even more honest, I share their interests, as well as an abiding love of the London theatre.  If I want to shop or view a few canvases at any of the outstanding London museums, or perchance to stumble on a fabulous London bookstore, there sure as hell better be a nearby pub for these guys to water their horses.  Their interest in books is a dark void and if you keep them in the dark too long, they get testy.  Museums are to be tolerated only if I’m buying the next two rounds.

Two rounds in London can ruin your purse.  Pints of beer run about $6, but if you go where we go for late night exquisitry (don’t waste your time on a Google search, I made that word up, but what the hell, so did Shakespeare.   Time for your spritely comeback, yes?  “Stroud, you’re no Shakespeare!”  You’re correct.  I don’t write plays.  I also don’t wear tight stockings, or use 16^thCentury words.  BUT, I do make up a few words of my own.

Speaking of Shakespeare, why did he write with a pen instead of a pencil?  Because he couldn’t decide to use 2B or not 2B.

But, it’s time to cut the gab and get back to some hard currency drinking.

I had a Manhattan at the following celebrated drinking establishments:

The Bar at the Connaught Hotel

Duke’s Bar at Dukes Hotel

45 Jermyn Street (pronounced German Street)

Yes, these dealerships were in the same part of London as the upscale bars.

By the way, in many London upper crust watering holes, be sure to dress well, and as a minimum, for men, proper shoes, proper slacks, and a sports coat. 

Connaught Bar

Numerous accolades, most recently ‘Best Bar in the World,” an award the bar has won a number of time. The décor is extraordinary, and set in a world-renowned hotel.  The bar was crowded the night we wandered in, and no doubt celebrities were randomly strewn in groups here and there, but who can notice when standing back to back at the bar, and when you’re led to your drinking nook, there’s a good deal of privacy. 

The barmen were friendly and efficient. We ordered a mojito, a dirty martini, and two Perfect Manhattans. By the way, PERFECT is not a comment on the quality of the libation, but the name of the drink.  I’ll give you recipes further down the blog.

This is a blog about Manhattans, so I won’t vouch for either the martini or the mojito, but I heard no complains from my friends.  My Manhattan was very very good.  A strong, sipping drink, with just a twinge of sweetness.  Total cost for four drinks:  $145, tip not included.

On to Duke’s Bar

It may interest you to know that Duke’s Bar is where James Bond’s creator, Ian Fleming went to quench his thirst.  And, Duke’s bar is the place to go for a Vesper Martini.  At a bit over $27 per martini, you may want to write several best sellers before you go.   Also interesting is Duke’s martinis are neither stirred nor shaken.  I wrote earlier about Duke’s, so I’ll give you a link and move on to Manhattans.

The chief barman is Salvatore Calabrese, an Italian, well known as the best barman in London, and a celebrity in his own right.  Yes, Duke’s has won ‘Best Bar’ also!

Our Manhattans were smooth and very sippish.   No criticisms noted by any in our drinking party and I noticed none of the other customers smashing glasses or grabbing waiters by the lapels.

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2015/04/a-martini-worthy-of-james-bond-dukes.html

Finally, we get to 45 Jermyn Street.

Unlike the other two, which had the feel of ladies and gentlemen’s clubs, 45 Jermyn Street is a bit more relaxed, the place you’d go after an invigorating haircut and beard shaping at Trufitt & Hill, the world’s oldest barbershop, located in nearby St James.  

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2017/12/haircut-at-londons-truefitt-hill.html

Perhaps, a few of the 45 Jermyn Street customers just had a flock of shirts made by famous ‘bespoke’ shirt maker, Turnbull & Asser (also on Jermyn Street).

Mustafa and the Perfect Manhattan

We sat at the bar, mainly because I like it there and I also like to chat with the bartenders.  Ours was Mustafa, a Turk raised in London.

It’s worthy of note (or I wouldn’t note it!) that London is not just a melting pot, but a crossroads of east and west, north and south.  Walk down any London street and you’ll hear the nearly silent whispers of Japanese, the raucous sounds of Italian and Spanish, or languages I’ve never heard before, imported from across Europe, Africa and the middle east.  What a delight!

I’ve had my hair cut by a man from Cyprus, but just as Londonish in speech and manner as anyone London born.  Italians run many of the posh bars, including the one I mentioned, Duke’s bar.

Mustafa is the same.  I asked where he was from, but not because of accent or outward appearance.  Oh,no. Mustafa is a London gentleman, pure and simple.  

And now we come to Manhattans at 45 Jermyn Street, of which I have written before.

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2017/02/45-jermyn-street-drink-to-savor-in.html

Mustafa made the best Perfect Manhattan of the lot.  I’ve tried to copy it at home and came close, but not quite point on.  Barely sweet, but strong and most of all delicious! Sometimes a drink, like an exquisite meal, lingers in memory. Mustafa’s Perfect Manhattan is like that.  For my taste buds, it’s heaven in a goblet.

Best of all, Mustafa gave me his recipes for three types of Manhattans:  Sweet Manhattan, Perfect Manhattan, and Dry Manhattan.  I have to add, he used Four Roses as the base liquor.

See what gifts I’ve given you?  A tour of some spectacular drinking establishments and a recipe for an evening of heaven in a glass!

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Brussels in the Budding Springtime

Brussels in the Budding Springtime

This was only an overnight visit with friends, but fabulous enough to make me yearn to go back.

Getting there:  German autobahns are not always what you’d expect. The Germans keep their roads in near perfect shape, but that means constant roadwork, which often adds time to a trip. “You can go as fast as you want,” is the common misconception.  Yes and no, is the reality.  On our way to Brussels, we’d go fast for a spell, then have our speed gradually stepped down from “Blur the Countryside Lamborghini Style” to 60 mph, to 50 mph, to 35 mph, and sometimes to 25 mph.  And if there’s an accident, may mercy guide you and I hope you packed a lunch.

Trucks are restricted to 60 mph, but on our way, that didn’t stop two eighteen wheelers from flipping to their sides and straddling a few lanes.  Police and fire trucks held a convention, fortunately on the opposing lanes. 

Our trip to Brussels lengthened from three and a half hours to four and a half.  We arrived in the city to face Friday’s rush hour traffic, hampered by unruly bicycle lanes and plagued by an impossible number of non-coordinated traffic lights.  It’s not that Brussels’ drivers are bad drivers, but that the roads and oddly timed traffic signals promote a suicidal determination to get home or die trying. Capturing the right of way on city thoroughfares requires nerves of steel and obedience to one rule:  Don’t make eye contact.

Tired, but satisfied, we finished the journey.  Fortunately, the friends we were visiting have spots in a parking garage, a gift so rare as to bring tears of joy, kisses on both cheeks, and promises to the almighty to never sin again.

Those are the inconveniences. And now for the wonders of a city I refer to as the Small Paris.  The streets are perfect for walking and walk we did.  As you may know, Brussels is famous for two things:  Beer and Chocolate.  Every other store offers one or the other.  And no matter which beer or chocolate you choose, rest assured it will be a bit pricy and unbelievably delicious.

Cobblestone streets are common in the shopping and drinking and chocolate areas of the city. But, that doesn’t prevent the curvaceous, lavishly attired Belgian ladies from strutting the cobblestones in high heels.  This must take practice, but no more than riding a unicycle, while juggling silk scarves.  Men, too are rather well dressed, but lack the unicycle skills.

On to the outdoor antiques market, with stall after tented stall of every rarity imaginable.   Full sets of silver, the finest crystal goblets, luxurious fur coats, ornate walking sticks, and art of every description. Oddly enough, my companion found three sets of clip earrings at a price much lower than she would pay in a departments store, and also more beautiful, and at no extra charge, she can wear them remembering the romance of having earrings from an antiques market in Brussels. 

We visited a very special chocolate store in Les Galaries Royales Saint-Hubert. This mall rivals London’s Burlington Arcadein elegance and price, although Burlington ArcadepredatesLes Galaries Royalese Saint-Hubert, 1819 vs 1846.

 Mary’s Chocolatesis somewhere in the middle of this justly famous, enclosed shopping street. Les Galariesis home to every pricy brand, including half a dozen chocolate stores, some wonderful cafes, antique stores of the first order, bookstores, furniture stores offering wonderful designs, glove stores, jewelry stores, and so much more.

But, even in this royally priced area, Mary’s Chocolatesstands out. Prices are listed in ounces of gold……only kidding, but I walked out with a small bag full of chocolate and with my Visa Card melting in my hand, not in my mouth.  This is chocolate to savor and remember and drop to your knees to thank the heavenly father for.  The original Mary opened her store almost exactly one hundred years ago, in 1919.

The shop ladies are extraordinarily helpful and speak every language in Europe and the Far East. They also pass out samples that allowed us to taste almost everything in the small, brightly lit shop.

The range of confections is boundless and runs from the familiar truffles and filled chocolates, to real egg shells filled with soft chocolate, tall and slender confectionary roses.  The rose flavored white chocolate truffles are heavenly.  Mary’s confections are not just different, but sensationally delicious. Yes, we sampled the candies and drank large paper cups of rich hot chocolate.  We left the shop poorer, but richer (pun intended) for the experience, and with a fierce determination to return.

Ok, we’d finished with chocolates, so it was time to trot across the road from Les Galaries, for a visit to my favorite Brussels beer hall, La Mort Subite, the name meaning sudden death, is named after a card game.  I’ve written extensively about La Mort Subite, so I will give you a link and right now you’ll have to settle for newly taken photos.

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2013/01/la-mort-subite-maybe-best-beer-bistro.html

Your immediate question may well be:  What about the food???  You damn well better mention the food!!!!

Ok, I will, but sadly, I did not bring my camera to table.  The bistro where we ate was in the old city, on a cobblestone walking street and carries a succinct name:  C’est Bon C’est Belge!  (It’s Good, It’s Belgian), featuring Belgian specialties, such as chicken in a rich cream sauce, and beef stew cooked in dark beer. 

We’re led to a table, then order beers and talk awhile.  There is no rush.  We’re brought a tin tub of dark, grainy bread and a deliciously creamy butter.

The delicious aroma gets to the table before the main course.  My stewed beef is in a sauce as dark as chocolate, but with a perfect melding of herbs and beer and beef.  Magnifique!

Meal over and it’s back to the streets for a long walk home.  Orange streetlights guide our way past massive stone building, a palace and the palace garden.  A pleasant ending to a most pleasant evening.

I know I used the description “cobblestone “ a lot, but once you’ve seen the old part of the city, you’ll know why.  In most older cities I’ve visited there have been a couple of stone streets, but only enough to offer a polite bow to the past.  Not so in Brussels!   

And if you want to blend, have your clothes tailored and dress well!  I told you, it’s a small Paris.

Roasted Root Vegetables with Chickpeas

Yes, it’s March, but still chilly.  I need something warming on these evenings when a burger or a pizza just isn’t going to do the job.  Besides, I like to eat healthy and there’s only one way to do it…..Just do it!  No if, ands, or burgers and fries.  Ok, you know the routine, but are you going to do it? I’ve got a recipe that will make you lick your lips and swear to never eat fast food again, except for beer, of course.  After all, perfection is the enemy of enjoyment.  That’s why we marry.

Most everyone doesn’t mind eating healthy if healthy tastes good.

Next puny bellyache:  I don’t have the time to cook every night! 

Ans: Being a true and understanding friend, I have a solution for you.  This is a dish you can cook on a weekend and eat all week long.

Next complaint:  I’m not a cook.  

Ans:  Well, uh, let’s see….can you peel and chop vegetables, stick ‘em in the oven for a while and pull ‘em back out?

And a final bitch:  I don’t like any vegetables, but potatoes. 

Ans: Ok, I admit, ya got me there.  Good luck.

Roasted Root Vegetables with Chickpeas

Heat the oven to 400ºF, if your oven has a fan, if not, heat the oven to 420ºF.

2 large parsnips, peeled and roughly chopped

1 butternut squash, peeled and chopped in 1 inch chunks

1 bunch of baby carrots, washed, green leaves chopped off and discarded (I buy the little bags, with no leaves)

2 beet roots, peeled and roughly chopped

1 can chickpeas, drained and rinsed

1 small red onion, peeled, cut in half and thinly sliced

2 heaping tablespoons smoked paprika and ground cumin

1 tablespoon each cinnamon and turmeric

2 tablespoons (or a bit more) seasoned rice vinegar

Several generous splashes of olive oil

A generous handful each of fresh cilantro and mint, chopped (remove the stems on the mint and discard)
A handful of dried apricots, cut in half

A small bag of slivered almonds, toasted (see instructions below)

Put the chopped vegetables (except the beets and chickpeas) in a LARGE bowl, add olive oil and spices. (save some of both for the beets). Mix well.

Spread the vegetables on two baking pans.

Mix the beets in a separate bowl to keep everything from turning red, then add them to the other vegetables.

Put the slices of red onions in another bowl and splash in some seasoned rice vinegar.  Mix well and let them marinate.

Put both baking sheets in the oven and set your timer for 25 minutes.

While the vegetables are roasting, toast the slivered almonds.  Put a bit of oil in a pan, toss in the almonds and stir as necessary to get an even toasting.  Watch them closely.  Almonds can go from nearly ready to burned in seconds.

Check the vegetables, add more seasoning if desired, and toss in the chick peas.  Continue cooking until all vegetables are cooked through.

When the vegetables are cooked, let them cool a bit, then put them in a large bowl and mix in the chopped herbs and dried apricots.  Add the marinated onions and mix again.  Sprinkle the almonds on top.

As the French say: Voila! As Americans say: Looking pretty damn good. Or, in British English:  I say, it seems a bit of all right!

And as I say, dig in! You not going to miss that pizza!

Morning Walk

Photo courtesy of Jan Stroud

I go to the same German bakery every morning, eager to sit and sip and munch.  I chat with those I know and I know quite a few.  All the ladies behind the counter and the regulars who flow past.  We speak.  Shake hands.  Trade smiles. Comment on the weather.  I ask how they’re feeling and if I know their children, I ask about them.

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2018/08/my-local-german-bakery.html

Then I walk home.  Some days it’s a pleasure, but not always.  The bluster of winter, or the hot days of August take their toll on pleasure. But, no matter the morning, I like my stroll private and quiet.  Some like a musical accompaniment, ears with plugs, thoughts blocked out.  I’m not one of those.

Morning Walk

Nostrils moist like morning dew,

The cheeks so rosy, scarf askew,

Lips that quiver when I speak

Through tall forest on I trek.

Past still lakes, reflecting all 

In glassy water, trees so tall

They seem so still and quiet too

Painted on the water’s view.

Up and down the hills alone

Lost in thought, I wander on

Until I’m startled by the sound

Of paws that race on rocky ground.

Come here, calls the man to dog

We trade smiles and then they’re gone.

Lost are all the rhymes I made

Gone the prose my mind displayed.

But, no matter, not forlorn

I’ve watched a new day being born.

I’m content, the sun so bright

Uncovered from the dark of night.

Photo courtesy of Jan Stroud