Covent Garden
When we got off the tube and were immediately greeted by a Tiffany’s storefront, I rolled my eyes and prepared myself for a touristy market, each item over-priced and brandishing the British flag. As we made our way past the shops, I grew excited as I saw glimmers of large folding tables covered with miscellaneous objects through the doorway of a large mall-like building. Once we entered, we saw a large crowd forming over a balcony in the center of the place, a man’s operatic voice echoing around us. Once we entered the stalls it was impossible to stay with the couple of girls I entered with because of the tight squeezes between people and tables. And so, I found myself attempting to haggle without the moral support of my new friends from New England, slowly losing my polite tone and smile as I moved from antique pickle forks to stamps to supposed Roman artifacts found in the Thames. I had almost completely soured when I approached a table manned by a surly elderly man polishing old pocket watches with his breath and a cloth. “Well hello there, little one.” He offered chipperly, his British accent too cute to scowl at. I smiled and glanced over his table, my eye catching on a small purple rosary. I held it up and asked
“What have you got to say about this?”
He cleared his throat with a quick double-cough and put his spectacles back atop his nose. “Well, it’s a pretty little thing, isn’t it?” he said, “Sort of like you!” and bopped the tip of my nose with his pointer finger. The action startled me, but I found his warmth toward me endearing, and so I allowed myself to slip into my usual, friendly self again. He proceeded to tell me some minor suggestions about where it came from and when, all met with my encouraging head nods and smiles.
“What have you got to say about this?”
He cleared his throat with a quick double-cough and put his spectacles back atop his nose. “Well, it’s a pretty little thing, isn’t it?” he said, “Sort of like you!” and bopped the tip of my nose with his pointer finger. The action startled me, but I found his warmth toward me endearing, and so I allowed myself to slip into my usual, friendly self again. He proceeded to tell me some minor suggestions about where it came from and when, all met with my encouraging head nods and smiles.
Noteworthy Food:
- Duck Confit on toasted ciabatta bun with mixed greens and red onion chutney (Portobello Market)
- Eggs Benedict Royale Panq with salmon and spinach (Covent Garden)
- Avocado Toast with red onions, cherry tomatoes, and feta cheese (Waterstones)
- Mussels in cream sauce with ciabatta slices (Borough Market)
- Scotch Egg with salsa and mustard (Finest Fayre stand near Thames)
- Onion and cheese pie with mash and onion gravy (Greenwich pub)
- Dulce de leche churro (Covent Garden)
- Duck Confit wrap with red cabbage and spinach (Brick lane)
- Apple crumble with warm custard (Pub on corner near Goodge)
Borough
The market looked small from outside the entrance, but once we crossed under the brick archway, hundreds of vendors popped up out of nowhere. Meat counters elegantly draped with octopus tentacles, boxes filled with every kind of mushroom known to man, and the aroma of cinnamon and cloves rising from the cauldrons of cider and mulled wine. I snapped a picture of a giant pan, bigger than a tire, overflowing with all kinds of shellfish and rice. The lemony sauce spilled over the top and sizzled on the griddle as the cook stirred its contents in large, circular motions. “Fresh Paella!” he yelled out over and over to the passing shoppers. Amelia and I kept walking until we laid our eyes upon another large pan, this time full of mussels bathing in a cream sauce.
“May we try?” Amelia asked and batted her eyes toward the young man behind the counter, something I often benefited from because she was far prettier than me.
“Me first,” he said and gave us a wink, “I must make sure it is good enough for the beautiful ladies.” He slipped a mussel into his mouth and after a moment a grin formed on his lips and he shook his head slowly up and down. He handed us some and we mimicked his reaction to the flavor.
“Oh my gosh,” I said pointing at the sauce, “What did you use?” He grinned again and leaned closer, motioning for me to do the same.
“Cream, butter, salt and…”
“And?” I said.
“Love.” He whispered, his accent curling around the “o,” Portuguese or Italian I assumed. Amelia and I giggled politely, and she ordered a plateful. We plopped our things down on a nearby picnic table and quickly took pictures of the masterpiece before we devoured it. I forced Amelia to drink the rest of the broth with a straw because it was too good to waste.
“May we try?” Amelia asked and batted her eyes toward the young man behind the counter, something I often benefited from because she was far prettier than me.
“Me first,” he said and gave us a wink, “I must make sure it is good enough for the beautiful ladies.” He slipped a mussel into his mouth and after a moment a grin formed on his lips and he shook his head slowly up and down. He handed us some and we mimicked his reaction to the flavor.
“Oh my gosh,” I said pointing at the sauce, “What did you use?” He grinned again and leaned closer, motioning for me to do the same.
“Cream, butter, salt and…”
“And?” I said.
“Love.” He whispered, his accent curling around the “o,” Portuguese or Italian I assumed. Amelia and I giggled politely, and she ordered a plateful. We plopped our things down on a nearby picnic table and quickly took pictures of the masterpiece before we devoured it. I forced Amelia to drink the rest of the broth with a straw because it was too good to waste.
Things I wasn't supposed to do in London:
- Eat meat.
- Snort coke off an I-phone while listening to Led Zeppelin with a girl who doesn’t know when to stop talking.
- Stand on top of a roof with a joint in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other and coast the wind with my arms.
- Skip class.
- Make out with random British boys because they “might have herpes and you just don’t know.”
- Tell your roommate she needs to "tone down the gay.”
- Get drunk and buy drinks for allllllll of your new friends.
- Buy another crotch-less lingerie set.
- Leave your shoes on the tube.
- Snort coke off an I-phone while listening to Led Zeppelin with a girl who doesn’t know when to stop talking.
- Stand on top of a roof with a joint in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other and coast the wind with my arms.
- Skip class.
- Make out with random British boys because they “might have herpes and you just don’t know.”
- Tell your roommate she needs to "tone down the gay.”
- Get drunk and buy drinks for allllllll of your new friends.
- Buy another crotch-less lingerie set.
- Leave your shoes on the tube.
Club Critiques
G.A.Y.
Despite the cover charge, this club is a lot of fun (if you’re into gay shit). They have drag queens, 2000’s American pop, and plenty of gay men who will tell you you’re beautiful in the bathroom.
If you like G.A.Y. but are sad it closes at midnight, G.A.Y. Late might be the place for you. Same club, just Late.
The Zoo
Sadly, no wild animals, but if you show up in a group you get in for free and get a free shot. There are two levels, the top floor playing 80’s hits, and the bottom floor playing trash EDM. No matter how sober you think you are, do not trust yourself to go up and down the stairs alone.
Tiger Tiger
Too expensive to get in, but if you sweettalk the Brits who hang outside, they’ll buy you a drink at the pub across the street.
Nordic
If you like ping pong and overpriced drinks, this place is for you. If you want to spend even more money, buy the reusable “Das Horn” cup and scream “Das Horn” before every sip you take.
Ballie Ballerson
Don’t even bother, no one ever makes it to this place. Could be fun, could not be, we just don’t know.
Despite the cover charge, this club is a lot of fun (if you’re into gay shit). They have drag queens, 2000’s American pop, and plenty of gay men who will tell you you’re beautiful in the bathroom.
If you like G.A.Y. but are sad it closes at midnight, G.A.Y. Late might be the place for you. Same club, just Late.
The Zoo
Sadly, no wild animals, but if you show up in a group you get in for free and get a free shot. There are two levels, the top floor playing 80’s hits, and the bottom floor playing trash EDM. No matter how sober you think you are, do not trust yourself to go up and down the stairs alone.
Tiger Tiger
Too expensive to get in, but if you sweettalk the Brits who hang outside, they’ll buy you a drink at the pub across the street.
Nordic
If you like ping pong and overpriced drinks, this place is for you. If you want to spend even more money, buy the reusable “Das Horn” cup and scream “Das Horn” before every sip you take.
Ballie Ballerson
Don’t even bother, no one ever makes it to this place. Could be fun, could not be, we just don’t know.