Making Beautiful Art, Making a Community Grow: Wood Street Walls, E17

Sunday afternoon was beautiful: the perfect, warm fall day. John had just jetted off to Chicago for the first part of his crazy business trip (something like 4 different states in 5 days, on opposite coasts - nope, I don't know how he does it either) and I didn't want to stay inside moping around all afternoon, so I grabbed his SLR (my poor Olympus Pen is on its way to the repair shop) and headed out to find Wood Street Walls' murals dotted around Walthamstow.

Problem is, I'm directionally challenged, so I walked past about three of them to begin with (including one at the end of my own street), but with the help of Google Maps, I persevered - and was rewarding by some really cool street art sightings, like these sweet foxes near the Rose & Crown by Irony & Boe.

Founded by Mark Clack in 2014 and with a team of artists and contributors behind it, Wood Street Walls began as an informal group of Walthamstow residents and artists who were committed to bringing art into the community. As of today, Wood Street Walls has brought 17 murals by different artists to Wood Street and the surrounding area, plus they've just been awarded a grant of £18,000 to convert a disused space into affordable art studios for local artists - which will translate into free workshops for local charities, school children, and residents. How amazing is that?

Art should be enjoyed by everyone. As their website so eloquently puts it, Wood Street Walls seeks to "create beautiful and accessible public art for the enjoyment of the community." And, indeed, it's thrilling to stumble upon something so unexpectedly beautiful in a random parking lot (I love these birds by ATM) or while walking past a pub (the dog chasing after the mallard ducks by Teddy Baden is one of my favorites).

Or to do a double-take at this colorful contribution from Toasters en route to Homebase (where we spend most of our time lately - sad, I know!):

Something I also realized while taking the photos (and pretending to be all professional, when in reality I kept forgetting to manual focus and locking my lens in place when I wasn't using the camera. So. Not. Cool.) was that the people around me would also do a double-take; as if it was the first time they'd noticed this incredible artwork right on their doorstep (like I said, I missed the one at the end of my own street!).

There's something more to Wood Street Walls than simply prettifying the place we live in; there's a mission, an ethos, a determination to build community behind it. As one of the founders, Mark Clack, told me, according to the Warwick Commission Report, the number of arts teachers in schools has fallen by 11% since 2010. Wood Street Studios could provide a positive alternative to kids who wouldn't otherwise have the opportunity to participate in art projects.

More importantly, Wood Street Walls reminds us all to find beauty in our surroundings; to look around us. I mean, really look.

Outside of the grant I mentioned above, the new community hub that Wood Street Walls is trying to develop (Wood Street Studios) is completely crowd-funded. Wood Street Walls will be selling prints of selected walls to contribute to the crowd-funding efforts - I don't know about you, but I'm definitely in!

If you're interested in learning more, donating to Wood Street Walls, or doing the Wood Street Walls walk yourself (the weather's perfect for it!), head over to their website here. They've even made a handy map to help you navigate and find all the walls here.

The Fish Finger Reinvented: One-O-One Restaurant, Knightsbridge

I don't venture to Knightsbridge often, but returning to One-O-One Restaurant at The Park Tower Knightsbridge was like seeing an old friend; after all, it was where John and I first met Udita's now-husband, Karim, and I have terrific memories of us chatting the night away over a delicious multi-course menu.

Last Friday was no different: John and I had been graciously invited to sample One-O-One Head Chef Pascal Proyart's 5-course tasting menu, created to celebrate the 60th anniversary of British favorite, the fish finger. And believe me - the menu was as far from the type of fish finger you'd commonly find in the frozen food aisle as you could get!

And, One-O-One was just as I had remembered it: the same gracious service in the same timeless, elegant setting. Inside, the roar of Ferraris and Porches and the customers stumbling out of Harvey Nichols and Harrods with bagfuls of designer goods dangling from their arms is completely forgotten as the restaurant's lovely setting promotes a tranquil, calm atmosphere. It's one of those restaurants that I'd go to for a celebration or an anniversary (fitting then, as we were celebrating the fish finger!).

I don't want to ruin the surprise for you in case you venture to One-O-One to try the menu for yourself (and you should!), but here were a few of the highlights:

We began with the fish finger amuse bouche du jour, a crispy shrimp cake, which did just the trick in warming up our palates for the main course(s).

The first course was my favorite, and one that I lingered over: yellowfin tuna tartar with oyster and caviar, plus seaweed potato mash and tartare sauce on the side. I'm a huge fan of tuna tartar, but was bowled over by the presentation - the glittering speckles of caviar resembled the sea floor, complete with green "plants" growing out of the "bed"!

The éclair of lobster boudin, topped with scallop with autumn truffle, creamed leek and sauce cardinal was another creative take on the fish finger and resembled a mini hot dog - reminding me of a seaside resort or a fun fair at the end of Brighton pier. The addition of truffle slivers made it fancy (although the fact that it was lobster already impressed), but the shape added a bit of irreverence - some tongue-in-cheek fun.

Another favorite of mine was the salmon bon bon with wasabi mushy peas and sweet chilli and mint sauce - missing from this photo was the soy sauce pipette, which added just the right amount of salty goodness to this crispy, Asian-inspired dish. 

The plating of this particular dish was nothing short of creative: the little "tails" of salmon parcels stood from the plate, resembling whales or fish diving into the sea of mushy peas (which were delicious, by the way) and the garnish formed a perfect arc - how's that for detail?!

Unfortunately, at this point I began to feel very full and as a result, hardly touched the next course of battered royal king crab and cod and chips, though it was also one of the highlights of the meal. 

By the time dessert arrived, we were full and clutching our stomachs (a word of advice: skip lunch and arrive very, very hungry!). But it was so beautiful, we couldn't resist tucking in anyway: éclair of pineapple with coconut & vanilla Chantilly and rum pina colada sorbet.

A spoonful of that pina colada sorbet was like dipping our toes into the ocean during a beach holiday: the combination of pineapple and coconut always screams "Vacation!" to me, and this dessert seemed like the only fitting final bow to an exemplary, fish-focused menu.

During dessert, a celebrity guest arrived (though I had no idea): Pelé, perhaps the best known football (AKA soccer) star of all time. He remained unnoticed to me, settling in with a group of friends at the opposite table, until John turned around to go to the bathroom and nearly fainted from excitement. 

Of course, the staff were discreet and hosted their celebrity guest with the quiet professionalism they do best, but it didn't stop the couple next to us pretending to take photos of their meal, only to capture Pelé in the background. I did stifle a laugh however, when I overheard a staff member introducing the fish finger tasting menu to him which evoked the confused response, "What is this, 'fish finger'?"

Our bellies full and having had a wonderful evening, we strolled out into enjoy the last bit of warmth in evening air while John wistfully craned his neck to get one last glimpse of his football hero through One-O-One's windows.

Celebrity-sighting or not, One-O-One's celebratory fish finger menu is one for the memory books: innovative, beautifully presented, and downright delicious.

Special thanks to One-O-One Restaurant in Knightsbridge and Starwood PR for graciously hosting us! All opinions are my own. One-O-One Restaurant's Fish Finger Tasting Menu is available to book until 17 October 2015; to place your reservation and read more about the menu, click here. The menu is also available as a 2- or 3- course lunch and dinner menu.

Have a Mindful Weekend

Friends, I hope you have a peaceful, mindful weekend. What are you up to?

I'm looking forward to trying the new fish-finger menu (yes, really) at One-O-One restaurant in Knightsbridge tonight and taking part in our neighborhood jumble sale (goodbye, old clothes and furniture!) tomorrow.

I also just wanted to share that I'm struggling at the moment with some really sad news about a very close friend of mine who just passed away. I have been searching for the words to tell you how I feel about this - and how I felt about her - all week.

And they have all been so inadequate.

So I'll wait until the right ones come.

Until then, I have woken, crying, from dreams where I've been searching for her - more times than I can count this week.

My heart hurts so much right now and I keep looking up at the sky for answers. Those pink streaks of clouds don't bring me closer to any, but they do bring me some peace. They're a salve on a very much stinging, very open wound.

Be well, and keep each other close.

xo

TimeOut London

Happy Tuesday! I had a nice surprise on my way in to work today when I saw my piece on Cadogan Hall (as well as a little blurb about my "perfect weekend" in London!) in TimeOut London's Reader Takeover Issue. It's fun to see my words published in print, and even more fun to see people reading it!

If you don't get a chance to grab a (free) copy today, the article's also published online here.

A Conversation About "Home" With My Dad (The Original Expat)

When I was five or so, my dad and I had a Sunday ritual: I'd sit on a little step ladder in the kitchen and watch him make breakfast for us. Scrambled eggs, a piece of ham, and two pieces of cinnamon toast. He still makes the same breakfast for me when I go back for visits.

Now we have a new Sunday ritual: I call him on FaceTime while he's making breakfast and I'm making dinner. We talk about his work, my work, the news, our new house ... I show him things like our new carpet or the mosaic lamp we bought in Singapore. Once in a while, he'll interrupt with, "What are you making? Is it any good? That chicken is going to be too dry like that. I guarantee it."

This time, our conversation turned to my grandma's Happy Valley apartment, which was sold to the highest bidder last week after she passed away this summer. Apparently, the sale made Hong Kong papers.  I clicked through photos of the emptied flat on my cousin's Facebook page, feeling a hollow sadness as I remembered the sound of the door opening and my grandma's face lighting up on the other side as she greeted us with our suitcases in tow.

"You know, I'm rootless now. I have no connection to Hong Kong anymore," my dad declared between bites of toast."I have no home!"

"But wait," I said. "Don't you feel like our home in Washington is your home?" 

His answer surprised me. Without pausing, he answered: "No. I've never felt like this was my home. I mean, it's where you kids grew up, but those are all the memories I have of this house. The Happy Valley apartment was my home, when Mar Mar was around." 

This made me equally sad and curious at the same time. I'd never heard my dad define "home" like that. I decided to investigate further.

"But don't you feel like where you started your own family was your home?" I asked. 

"No," he said with his mouth full. "I always felt like, you know, if anything happened - and I mean, anything - if it all went wrong, I could go back to Mar Mar's place and everything would be fine." And he dissolved into fits of laughter, as if it was the silliest thought in the world.

But it wasn't. Because I've often thought the very same thing. And I wish it were different. I wish I could say with certainty that this new house that John and I have bought together is my "home".

Maybe one day it will be.

But after having this conversation with my dad last night, I'm beginning to think it might never really feel like that - and that scares me. I'm beginning to think that my home will always be that house in the Puget Sound that overlooks the treetops with a view of Mount Rainier; that house with the strange, hilly hairpin driveway that I can (probably still) manoeuvre out of with one hand on the steering wheel; that house with a small bedroom that still has my high school awards mounted on the wall and probably always will.

That house I know.

It scares me because I knew exactly what my dad meant about "if it all went wrong". Because secretly? I've always felt like that about my childhood home. I've tried to wean myself off of calling it my "home" ('I'm going back to my parents' house for Christmas' vs. 'I'm going home for Christmas') for a while, but it feels wrong. The words feel strange in my mouth, or even when I form them in my head.

It scares me because it makes me feel guilty; like I'm betraying John or my decision to live here in London by calling somewhere else my "home". It also scares me because I dread the day that I say to someone, between bites of toast, "I'm totally rootless!"

But maybe "home" is actually a feeling. Or a belief. For me, my "home" is the last place I remember feeling completely and utterly safe; protected. Like a force-field had been drawn around it, deflecting anything or anyone bad who tried to enter that bubble. And that, to me, will always remain my family home. It's something I've struggled to admit in the last few years, but hearing my dad say it was a relief.

Of course, he shrugged off this rare glimpse of sentimentality by taking another bite of toast and asking, "So. When will your dinner be ready? And are you going to have wine or what?"

Getting Hammy With Zomato @ Camino Bankside

I loved the tapas at the newly opened Camino Bankside when John, Joe, Jodi, and I (yes, we're the awful "J"-named friends) went for the soft launch a couple of months ago. So when Zomato asked me if I'd like to try a jamon-carving masterclass, I jumped at the opportunity to learn from Camino's highly-skilled and knowledgeable Chef Nacho del Campo (sidenote: AMAZING name, no?).

After chatting over a glass of chilled cava, we all had a chance to carve our own slices of jamon under Chef Nacho del Campo's watchful eye and, as predicted, I was embarrasingly bad at it. (Let's just say that I definitely shouldn't quit my day job in publishing to become a professional jamon carver ... that is, unless I felt like, super passionate about it or something.)

It was really challenging to achieve the perfect, wafer-thin slices that Chef Nacho deftly produced, despite his insistence that I simply, "lightly drag the knife through with a back and forth motion - it requires no effort!" My "slices" more resembled wedges, much to the amusement of the other chef at my elbow. "I'll have that one, thanks," he joked, as my face turned red.

Eventually, I received a helping hand (literally) by Chef Nacho ... massive fail. But it was interesting to learn all about the different cuts and areas of the leg, as well as how the pigs are bred and which regions of Spain they come from. We also received a quick lesson about the difference between Italian parma ham and Spanish jamon (hint: they are not the same!).

During the evening, we sampled four delicious different types of ham:

• Jamon Teruel DO (aged for 20 months), a white ham
• Jamon Iberico Cebo (aged for 24 months), the ham you see me carving above
• Jamon Iberico Bellota Etiqueta Roja (aged for 32 months), a ham with a red label
• Jamon Iberico Bellota Etiqueta Negra, Cinco Jotas (aged for 36 months), the "Rolls Royce" of hams, which carries a black label

Needless to say, the last one was my favorite and, as Chef Nacho demonstrated, if you tore off a little piece of fat and rolled it between your fingers, it simply melted. 

While others took turns carving the jamon, the rest of us grazed on delicious tapas like chipirones a la andaluza (the most delicious baby squid served with aioli and lemon), padron peppers, and pan con tomate (my personal favorite: crispy bread, garlic, tomato pimenton, and EVOO).

Might not be the ideal event for vegetarians and vegans (try the delicious vegetarian tapas options instead!), but for anyone who's a jamon fan, I think the masterclass would make a terrific present. I'm already thinking of treating my dad to this when he comes over for Christmas!

Huge thanks to Zomato and Camino Bankside for hosting me at this awesome event! Jamon-carving masterclasses with Chef Nacho del Campo are available to book at £30 per person. For more details, including instructions on how to book, visit Camino Bankside's website here.

Notice Anything Different?

Last time I felt like this was when I got a super short hair cut after having had hair past my shoulders for 17 years (I'd just quit ballet and finally didn't need it to be "bun" length!). If you're reading this in a browser and glance up at the web address, you'll notice that I've dropped "blogspot" from my domain name ... that's because I finally own angloyankophile.com, which is super duper exciting!

When I started this blog five years ago, I didn't think about getting my own domain - simply because I didn't think my blog was big enough or important enough or "worth it" (and also because catch-phrases like SEO, DA, etc. were not in my vocabulary!). But in the last two years, my readership has grown, my audience has evolved, and I'm beginning to think that maybe what I do on here actually ... matters.

I went to blogger meet-ups and workshops and heard all about why owning your own domain is important (blogger Jasmin Charlotte writes a great post about it here) - which I always knew was true in the back of my head. But there was still that doubtful voice that said, "Why bother? Your blog isn't anything special! It's so not worth it." Yet, I always felt a little unsettled that I didn't "own" my own site and that my blog ended in "blogspot.com" rather than just ".com".

It wasn't until one of my all-time favorite bloggers and blogging icons, Joanna Goddard, switched over from blogspot to her own domain, that I started thinking seriously about the change. And you know what? It feels good to "own" it. In every sense of the word.

Thank you x a million for reading!

xo