girls are weird.

27 September 2005

we went, we ate, we came back home

The long weekend went by far too quickly, but a good time was had by all. We arrived at the Holne Chase hotel on Friday afternoon, marvelling at the seclusion and beauty of the surrounding area. It was a hunting lodge in a former life, and now provides comfortable accommodation for two and four-legged guests. There is a resident basset hound called Batty, whose bark is almost as loud and deep as Jasper's - she is not a dame to be reckoned with. The hotel receptionists were friendly and extremely helpful (they helped us find dog friendly beaches in the region, for example), and the chambermaids fussed over Jack, which always wins points with me. My mission was to eat as much seafood as possible during this trip, starting that evening. Our room was directly over the dining room so we were able to leave Jack upstairs with the baby monitor on (and Jasper to keep guard) while we ate supper. The hotel doesn't allow children in the restaurant after 7pm, but they provide a special high tea at 6pm for the little ones. We had a three course meal, starting with local mussels in a creamy wine sauce for me. For the main course, I had a grilled filet of sea bass served with sauteed leeks, peas, broadbeans, and potato. For dessert, we both went for the local cheese selection served with a deliciously spiced plum chutney, which was far too rich; I felt like slipping into a coma afterwards.

On Saturday, we headed to Paignton and the beaches of Goodrington. Goodrington is just south of Paignton with a dog friendly beach, but the tide was in while we were there. The dog unfriendly beach was accessible though, and stretched for a couple of miles. We stopped for a pub lunch and it was warm enough to eat outside so we could keep Jasper with us. After lunch, we headed to Paignton. It reminded me a lot of Great Yarmouth, which isn't a good thing - a faded seaside resort town, filled with arcades, tired looking hotels, and tatty shops. On the plus side, it has a fabulous zoo. For £10 (Jack was free), you can easily spend an entire day walking its winding paths. The zoo is divided up into various habitats such as swamplands and forests, with appropriate animals in each environment. No penguins, sadly.

In the evening, we went to our very first "celebrity chef" restaurant, Tanners in Plymouth. Although the brothers did a series for UKTV Food, James Tanner is probably the better known of the two from his appearances on BBC's "Ready, Steady, Cook". We sat in the well room (seen here, our table was the one on the left), with Jack parked by us in his stroller. I was a bit hesitant about taking Jack because when I booked the table and asked about highchairs, I got the sense that I had made some sort of horrible foody faux pas. My fears were completely unfounded as the waiters made sure there was a spot for Jack at our table, and one called him a "little treasure". Bless. Jack slept soundly through our meal, never knowing what he was missing. From start to finish, we were in culinary heaven. We went for the five course menu, which sounds scary, but it was the perfect amount of food. The first course was a small plate of grilled sardine fillets served with braised romaine lettuce. I am not a fan of fish with bones (you eat sardines bones and all), but it was still enjoyable. This was followed by a mound of smoked salmon on a blini for me, and scallops with smoked salmon for Paul. The salmon was the polar opposite of the chewy, slightly soapy tasting variety sold in plastic wrap at Tesco; it was delicately smoked and melted in our mouths. Paul's scallops were cooked perfectly - lightly browned with a creamy, translucent centre. My main course was a filet of John Dory, smoked prawns, and mussels served with spinach and a single oversized ravioli (I think it was filled with a seafood mousse - I could definitely detect prawns). Paul had something else; I wasn't paying attention as I was too absorbed in my meal. All the fish was beautifully cooked, particularly the John Dory which was delicate and tasted of the sea. A "pre-dessert" followed, which was a cleverly assembled dish to cleanse the palate. A real eggshell was filled with unsweetened whipped cream and a mango coulis centre, looking remarkably like a soft boiled egg served with shortbread "soldiers". For dessert, I had the most delicious creme broulee I have ever tasted. The satisfaction of striking a spoon through the caramelised surface is indescribable, and the custard was like silk speckled with vanilla seeds. Paul had a gorgeously light chocolate mousse-based dessert, described on the menu as "Something chocolate??!!" (which indicated to me that they hadn't made up their mind what it would be before they printed the evening's menus, or it was a question posed to the diner). Service was very friendly, with servers attending to us frequently throughout the meal. I assumed that the Tanners wouldn't actually be there - after all, surely they had more glamorous things to do on a Saturday night and a celebrity chef probably doesn't even work in his own restaurant. As I walked through the bar to the toilets, I noticed a plasma screen on the wall. Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was a live feed from the kitchen with not one but both Tanner brothers cooking up the main courses. "A Tanner has touched our food!" I exclaimed to Paul. Although it sounds pathetic, it did really please me to know that the Tanners were there. For five courses, we paid £35 and thought it was very reasonably priced for what we got - and it was touched by a Tanner, no less.

Sunday was our anniversary and our outing to celebrity chef restaurant #2, The New Angel in Dartmouth. We spent a lovely sunny early afternoon enjoying the scenery by the waterfront. Dartmouth is charming, distinctly lacking the seaside town tackiness often seen along the coast. I stood in front of the restaurant, waiting for Paul to take Jasper to the car while we ate lunch. I peered through the window and saw several tables with highchairs - I was relieved to see that we wouldn't be the only ones dining with a baby. I realised that I should have requested a table downstairs when I booked; the kitchen is open so you can watch the exciting hustle and bustle while your food is being prepared. We sat upstairs away from the excitement, served by several people with heavy French accents. We received a John Burton Race book for our anniversary from Russ and Debs, which we took with us hoping we could get the man himself to scribble on it for us. Much to my disappointment, he wasn't working that day (although we did recognise a few people from the "Return of the Chef" series). I had scallops served with lentils and lardons to start, which were just as beautifully prepared as the scallops Paul had at Tanners. Paul had a wonderfully fresh Dartmouth crab salad, piled high on his plate. We both went for the lobster salad for our main course, which included a surprisingly large portion of local lobster served with tarragon mayonnaise and new potatoes. The lobster was sweet and tender, with a slightly aniseed taste from the tarragon. For dessert I had the creme brulee, with the intent of comparing it to the Tanners version - and Tanners won, in my estimation. Although it was deliciously creamy, the custard was slightly thicker and dangerously close to the scrambled eggs stage. Paul had a spectacular duo of white and dark chocolate mousse, served with homemade ice cream. Jack had his first taste of Michelin starred food by sampling some soda bread while we ate our lunch. I'm sure he was suitably impressed. The food and service were excellent, but somehow lacking the overall enjoyment we experienced at Tanners. It is undoubtedly more touristy than Tanners, due to its waterfront location in a popular holiday town and the fact that the television series brought it to the public's attention. I left the restaurant satisfied, but wondering if that Michelin star meant better food.

After two days of stuffing ourselves, supper was a light bite at the hotel with a bottle of champagne to celebrate our anniversary. And of course I managed to fit in a piece of chocolate tart. On Monday, we gathered our things and began our journey back home via Dartmoor Park. Devon is awash with tiny twisty turny roads that are good fun, especially if you're not the one driving. We wound our way north through Dartmoor past hills, forest, sheep, and cows. We had a pitstop in Exeter for two reasons: to feed Jack and to ensure that we have a cream tea. Clotted cream is like eating unsweetened whipping cream, beaten to the consistency of Nutella. If you put a large blob of clotted cream on a warm scone and top it with another large blob of strawberry jam, you have something special. We scoffed our cream tea, had a bit of a wander around the quay and continued on our way home. The four days flew by, and once again I left Devon feeling like there was so much more left to see.

Yesterday, I had a slice of wholemeal toast for breakfast, cottage cheese and tuna on toast for lunch, and wholemeal pasta with bolognaise sauce and grilled courgettes for supper. I feel virtuous already.

Pictures can be seen here.

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

22 September 2005

go (south)west

We're off to Devon tomorrow oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy! It's the land of clotted cream, beautiful parks, and gorgeous beaches. Mmmmmm clotted cream. Dog, baby, husband and I are pootling off in our new car (it's not a minivan, dammit) to enjoy four days of food, fun, and frolic. Most importantly, we're celebrating our first wedding anniversary on Sunday. Awwwwwww bless.

The night before our wedding, Paul stayed at the house with friends and family while I spent the night at the hotel. He was concerned that I would get lonely at the hotel by myself, but I assured him that I would be fine. The days/weeks leading up to the wedding were so chaotic, and as more family and friends arrived in town, the pace became more frantic. We had a meal at our wonderful local pub, all 14 of us, then Paul drove me to the hotel and helped me up to my room. It was beautifully tranquil, with a huge bed and a spectacular bathroom. I changed into the big fluffy white bathrobe that was toasty warm from the heated towel rail, and collapsed diagonally on the massive bed. I couldn't sleep, so I watched a lot of rubbish television and eventually drifted off at some point. Early in the morning, I awoke to the sounds of two very excited voices outside my door saying "Can we go see Auntie Lisa?" "Shhhh, she's sleeping!" I dragged myself out of bed and looked at myself in the mirror. I gently traced my bump with my hands and said, "I'm so glad that you're going to be part of today." A delicious full English breakfast was brought up to my room, and amazingly, I had the appetite to polish it all off. My throat hurt, my nose was snuffly, and I had a pounding headache - I knew I had a cold. I sent my very soon to be brother-in-law on a quest for paracetamol/Tylenol, and my very soon to be sister-in-law started working on my hair and makeup. I was a bag of nerves, killing time with inane chatter and grateful to have Netti there to keep me sane. Jean-Luc called my mobile, minutes before the ceremony, to let me know that he was stuck in traffic. Grand. One of the managers knocked on the door to tell me that it's time to head downstairs, and I prayed that I would make it through the day and evening without falling asleep and/or throwing up.

Mere minutes before I walked down the aisle, a frazzled looking Jean-Luc appeared, apologetic but ready to capture the event on film. Huge relief. Me, my Dad, and my flower girls made our way out the door as our string quartet played the wedding march. I had a huge toothy grin plastered on my face that I couldn't, for the life of me, prevent myself from doing. Nerves must make the muscles in your face contract. The ceremony was a blur; I was so nervous that I can't really remember any of it now. As soon as it was over, a huge wave of relief washed over me. The quartet played "All You Need is Love" while we signed the papers (people at first wondered why we were playing the French national anthem during our wedding) and we posed for a million pictures. The day was brilliant and it went by in a flash. I was so worried that I wouldn't make it to the end of the night but when Paul told me that our car was here to take us away for our wedding night, I was shocked that it was that late already. It was, without a doubt, an absolutely perfect day.

So a year later, we're off to Devon to celebrate with our gorgeous baby boy and fluffy pup. We have reservations at not one, but two "celebrity chef" restaurants (Tanners and The New Angel). It's our first holiday as a family, and I cannot wait to hit the road. While we are gone, please don't break into our house and rob us because that would really, really annoy me. Until Tuesday...

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

20 September 2005

mixed signals

On Sunday, I made a quick trip into town to pick up a few essentials. As I made my way home around the ring road (a one-way road that circles the main part of Huntingdon), the radio station I was listening to suddenly went crackly. A woman's voice faded in, and as I was only half paying attention, I just caught the last half of what she was saying. It sounded very much like an ad for a racy phone line, but this was Sunday afternoon on Radio One - I must have misheard. I thought it might have been part of the song, and I continued on my merry way without another thought.

Yesterday, as I made my way around the ring road to go to the gym, Radio One faded out again. The same ad played on my radio, and this time I was certain about what I heard. I'd been radio spammed! Someone must be using the traffic announcement feature that most people have enabled on their car stereos. This feature allows local radio stations to "break in" to whatever station you're listening to in order to broadcast local traffic reports every so often. Since I have TAs enabled, I think this is how these rogue saucy ads are making their way to my car speakers. This is more than just a little bit annoying. It's bad enough that we have commercial television, flyers through our letterboxes, spam emails, double glazing salesmen on our telephones, and dubious text messages on our mobiles prompting us to call strange phone numbers to claim our free trip to Florida. Now I've got some chick inviting me to call her, free of charge, and tell her my fantasies.

I'm very tempted to call and say, "Yes, hello. My fantasy is to wake up every morning to a sparkling clean house, a full English breakfast that contains no fat or calories, I'd like to have the same figure as Angelina Jolie, and a large bundle of cash deposited into my account on an hourly basis. Thanks. Bye."

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

19 September 2005

a very important date

On September 19, Sir William Golding (author of "Lord of the Flies"), Adam West ("Batman"), George Cadbury (English social reformer and chocolate manufacturer), and Jeremy Irons were born.
On September 19, 1957, the United States conducted its first underground nuclear test in the Nevada desert.
On September 19, 1970, "The Mary Tyler Moore Show" debuted on CBS.
On September 19, 1928, Walt Disney's Mickey Mouse made his first appearance in the animated short "Plane Crazy".
On September 19, 1846, poets Elizabeth Barrett and Richard Browning eloped to Italy.

On September 19, 1969, a bright-eyed baby boy with spikey hair was born in Kent. Happy birthday to the most amazing husband and father in the world. xxxxx

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

16 September 2005

excuse me while i spit some nails

Women who wait until their late 30s to have children are defying nature and risking heartbreak, leading obstetricians have warned. [source]

I would normally put a topic like this on the baby blog, but this got me furious and I think it deserves to be on the main blog. As an "older mum", I would like to say the following: these people are talking absolute bollocks. I had Jack one month before my 36th birthday. Not once did any of the numerous midwives, nurses, doctors, and consultants who treated me during my pregnancy and birth mentioned my age as a concern. So where has this recent revelation come from?

In the BMJ, the authors of this article write: "Women want to 'have it all' but biology is unchanged; deferring defies nature and risks heartbreak." Ah, now it all makes sense. How retro - we're rehashing the careerwoman as an abomination of nature argument that was so popular in the 80s. How dare we choose to have a career, an independent means of financial support, a life? Now look what it's caused - fertility problems, foetal death and abnormalities, and "heartbreak".

"Expert" Dr Susan Bewley states: "Most women playing 'Russian Roulette' get away with it, most people are fine. But I see the casualties. The best time to have a baby is up to 35. It always was, and always will be." Okay, let's recap my life before 35. The longest relationship I was in lasted 8 years, and I was with a man who didn't want children. I was working in various bookstores earning a meager hourly wage, renting an apartment, some months not being able to afford a bus pass, smoking 1/2-1 pack of cigarettes a day, 50lbs. overweight, and I hadn't really travelled anywhere. By 35, I had quit smoking, lost the 50 lbs., collected several thousand flight points, had a job I thoroughly enjoyed with a great salary, met my husband, bought a car, bought a house, got married, and got pregnant. I can afford to take a year off work (or more, if I wanted to) to care for my son, we can provide any material goods or medical care he needs, and most importantly, we have a amazingly strong relationship that has endured the many stresses of pregnancy, birth, and parenthood.

So someone explain to me again why I should have had a child before now?

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

13 September 2005

je me souviens

Every time I read a book by Kathy Reichs, I get really homesick. She doesn't just use Montreal as a backdrop, she includes references to specific restaurants, buildings, streets, and landmarks. Her characters take detailed routes to their destinations, travelling along roads I know well. They eat bagels and smoked meat sandwiches, and buy their groceries in Le Faubourg. Words like "tabarnacle" pop up every now and then (and then I translate them to my husband who is none the wiser until I explain that swearing is religion-based in Montreal). I am currently reading the latest Reichs novel, so I am feeling rather homesick at the moment.

We didn't think that we'd be able to go to Montreal this Christmas; we thought we'd be too rushed to visit both Toronto and Montreal, particularly with a 10-month-old in tow. As luck would have it, British Airways are having a seat sale but we need to depart before December 12 to get the best deal. So, this means that we will be in Canada for almost three weeks - giving us plenty of time to make the trip to Montreal.

Ouais!!

I haven't been home for almost three years, and I'm dying for a decent bagel. I miss my friends and family, and there are quite a few new faces that have arrived on this planet since the last time we were home (and at least one more to arrive by the time we get there, eh Dina and Steve?) I want everyone to finally meet Jack. I want to buy things. Lots and lots of things. I want snow and to take Jack on his first toboggan ride. I want to watch all my Christmas cartoons and slightly peculiar animated classics that they don't show here. I want to see if I still remember how to speak French.

Three more months. Put in your requests for interesting chocolates and oddly-named sweets now.

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

12 September 2005

no pressure

Our neighbours went on holiday last week and before they left, I asked if there was anything we could do for them while they're away. M said, "Oh yes actually, could you please water my plant? I've had it for 20 years, and it's still going strong. My dear friend gave it to me and I know that as long as it's alive, I will always remember her. She died a few years ago, but I still have that plant."

You just know what's going to happen by the time they get back, don't you?

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

06 September 2005

quote of the day

"If you are what you eat, she has eaten a small rancid hamster." -David Baddiel

(On Gillian McKeith, presenter of the dreadful but slightly amusing television programme "You Are What You Eat". Read more about her [complete lack of] credentials here. And has anyone noticed how she now says "I believe that..." or "In my opinion..." before she doles out advice? And how she's no longer touted as Dr. Gillian this series?)

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

05 September 2005

by the beautiful sea

We packed ourselves, the baby, the dog, and a picnic lunch into the car and headed for the north Norfolk coast. The sun shone brightly on us as Jasper ran through the waves and Jack looked slightly nonplussed. You may laugh at us with our plaid travel blanket and insulated picnic cooler, but at least we haven't reached the stage where we bring our own flasks of tea and drink it out of floral ceramic teacups whilst seated on folding lawnchairs in a carpark. Yet.

Soggy doggy!

Are we there yet?

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

01 September 2005

several pointless bulleted points

I don't like fruit. Well, I don't like most fruit. I enjoy bananas, apples, strawberries, melon, and grapes, but I don't care for most other fruit. I don't understand desserts that focus on fruit, unless it's strawberry cheesecake or a crumble/pie. To me, fruit suspended in clear gelatin, blended into a fluffy mousse, or chucked into a bowl is not a dessert. If, however, you cover fruit in chocolate, then it's more than welcome at my table.
Why is it that we spend 97% of the year complaining that the weather is rubbish, but when it's hot and sunny for 3% of the year, we find it intolerable and hope for rain to "break the heat"?
The pregnant lady on "Lost" really hacks me off. No 8 months pregnant woman is that thin, has a gravity-defying bump that juts out at a 90 degree angle to the rest of her body, and can be out in the sun and heat all day long, especially while hoisting plane wreckage around a beach. This reminds me of the time I wanted to shout out "You call THAT a baby bump? WITH TWINS?!" during Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith.
Our new car arrived today, but I won't get to see it until this evening. I can't drive it because it's a manual. Yes, that does make me feel slightly retarded.
I wear lipstick a lot but unlike Gwen Stefani, I do not wear it while I exercise. That's just weird.
I often find myself trying to think up email subject lines that don't sound like spam. For example, if I use the subject headings "Hello!", "Just checking in", "How are you?", or "Hey there!", my email might be overlooked or filtered to junk mail folders. Whenever I send a general message to someone that can't really be encapsulated by a pithy heading, I'm at a loss.

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --