14 November —
After
my blissful afternoon at Victoria Park, I felt so stupid. This is a
huge, multi-ethnic city with millions of people from all over the world.
Of course there is going to be amazing food. No one survives off of
pub food alone. Just like I make tacos in my dorm kitchen because I
miss Mexican food daily, people bring and make the food from their
homes. People like to be comfortable in new places and what is more
comforting than the food of your home and culture. I then made it my
mission in life (or at least for the next couple months) to find and
appreciate as much good food as I possibly could. Plus, this hunt is
also a convenient way to explore the city. My expedition has led me
all over this beautiful metropolis. My next stops were Camden Market
(the land of stunning arepas and goulash), Southbank Food Centre Market
(the spot where I had my first good taco in the city on an actual corn
tortilla), Greenwich Market (incredible Haitian food and ramen), Brick
Lane Market (where vats of curries lay in waiting), Chinatown (delicious
dumplings), and Boxpark Shoreditch (with prodigious Pad Thai). I still
have a few weeks to seek out more food spots and I have a long list of
ones to go to. All I can do is wait for the next few hours until it is
socially acceptable to eat again.
“I hate people who are not serious about meals. It is so shallow of them.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest
Food
is one of life’s daily pleasures. We may not be able to go on vacation
every other week, binge watch Netflix for as long as we like, or take a
nap whenever the feeling strikes because time and money (for most of
us) do not allow it. But you know what is completely justified and you
happen to need to do it every few hours to stay alive? Eating! My
favorite time of day is food time. It is life throwing me a daily bone
and saying “Hello Caroline! Enjoy life for the next 30 minutes because
the rest of your day is going to suck!” And I do. I enjoy the hell out
of those 30 precious minutes and savor whatever I am eating because
those will be the best 30 minutes of my day. I have been told that the
feeling of loving food like it’s family is called being a Foodie. Do I
identify as such? Eh, sure, maybe. However the real foodie in the room
is London. London appreciates good food and will take the time to do it
right.
Before coming here, I was told to beware of the lack of food diversity. I got the “all you’re are going to be eating for the next three months is fish and chips!” joke at least a thousand times. The week before arriving in this supposed land of only yellow foods, I went on a goodbye tour of my favorite restaurants at home in Southern California, bemoaning that I would not be able to have another good taco for four months. I was in mourning thinking about how much I would miss tamales, poke, and Pad Thai. Then the strangest thing happened the first week I got here. I was walking with a classmate to the park because we were going to study outside in the sun (before losing our only source of Vitamin D forever) and we literally ran into Victoria Park Market. I was mesmerized by the sight of a long row of food stalls, vendors of every nationality giving out free samples of their delicious foods. I walked down that long row of vendors like I was walking down the aisle at my wedding, floating on a cloud of bliss and anticipation. I don’t think I have ever been more at peace. I’m pretty sure there was an angelic choir singing in the background, but who knows, I was a little distracted. After swimming in the ecstasy of my possible eating delights, I thoroughly scoped out my choices and landed on a lamb ragu calzone that rocked my world. The man who I bought it from (his name was Joseph) was legitimately from Portofino, Italy, and let me sample all of the filling options before settling down with my lamb ragu. I could have married him and his ragu on the spot.
Before coming here, I was told to beware of the lack of food diversity. I got the “all you’re are going to be eating for the next three months is fish and chips!” joke at least a thousand times. The week before arriving in this supposed land of only yellow foods, I went on a goodbye tour of my favorite restaurants at home in Southern California, bemoaning that I would not be able to have another good taco for four months. I was in mourning thinking about how much I would miss tamales, poke, and Pad Thai. Then the strangest thing happened the first week I got here. I was walking with a classmate to the park because we were going to study outside in the sun (before losing our only source of Vitamin D forever) and we literally ran into Victoria Park Market. I was mesmerized by the sight of a long row of food stalls, vendors of every nationality giving out free samples of their delicious foods. I walked down that long row of vendors like I was walking down the aisle at my wedding, floating on a cloud of bliss and anticipation. I don’t think I have ever been more at peace. I’m pretty sure there was an angelic choir singing in the background, but who knows, I was a little distracted. After swimming in the ecstasy of my possible eating delights, I thoroughly scoped out my choices and landed on a lamb ragu calzone that rocked my world. The man who I bought it from (his name was Joseph) was legitimately from Portofino, Italy, and let me sample all of the filling options before settling down with my lamb ragu. I could have married him and his ragu on the spot.
—Caroline Wilkes