the move part is over at least.
Also, we went with friends on Saturday to take Jonah and Simon to see The Wiggles at the Hammersmith Apollo as an early birthday present to Jonah. You kind of feel like you have really arrived as a parent on the day you first take your kid to The Wiggles. It happened to be part of the swan song tour for three of the four members of the band. Lucky for me, there has been enough sordid adult drama with The Wiggles as of late, that I am entertained on multiple levels.
And that night we went with friends to celebrate David’s birthday at Dinner by Heston (Blumenthal) – he the molecular gastronomist of The Fat Duck fame – at the Mandarin Oriental. I am name-checking this place because it managed to find a concept in a concept-ridden city that has made food critics swoon: its dishes are an homage to “historic British gastronomy” with some recipes dating back to the 15th century. The famed dish is the Meat Fruit, chicken liver made to look like a mandarin orange. Some of that was ordered. Not by me. I was fairly taken at the end with the ice cream cart wheeled up to the table with a gentleman pouring in liquid nitrogen to a contraption filled with custard, and then churning out ice cream.
And on the opposite end of the food spectrum, I wanted a quick pre-made salad today and grabbed one on my way home. I wanted to healthfully make up for the 14 slices of pizza I had in the past 24 hours. So imagine my surprise when I squeezed out the packet of dressing and took a big bite and
Oh, I should have read the label.
I will never understand certain things about this country.