Thursday, 1 November 2012

London Glutton

It is Thursday night and I have three more days left of half-term break, meaning three more days until it is back to the routinely five days a week of lazily-thrown-together-at-six-in-the-morning cheese, ham and lettuce (occasionally) sandwiches for lunch.

Breakfast and dinner are always provided at the Cs'1 nice, typical English house. And when I say typical, I say it because everyone else says it's typical and not because I know it to be. I've been in London for only almost two months, so I'm not in the best position to say that something is 'typically English.'

Breakfast is basically a loaf of bread and boxes of cereal laid on the counter as well as two cartons of milk in the fridge, and there are options of tea, espresso, coffee and hot chocolate, and I always go for the latter. (Not recently, as my throat has been unkind.) I completely ignore the cereal (They are the wheat-y, fruity nutritional kind diluted with raisins and I only see the point in cereal if they are honey-coated or chocolate-stuffed.) and go for a nice slice of hot toast with Nutella generously slopped on one side. And another slice with peanut butter. And then they both join in harmonious marriage, spread-sides facing inwards, and they live happily ever after in my tummy.

Although I think Mrs C disapproves of this marriage as I found the peanut butter strategically placed behind and within other bottles of jam and mustard this morning. Okay, one spread at a time, I get the message.

Mr C is an Italian sixty-something who loves him some golf, tennis and wine. I'll cut straight to the point – his risotto to me is like water is to fish. It is warm, tasty, hearty and authentic. Filled with carrots, peas, mushrooms, rice and some sort of ingenious, magical sauce thing.

Anyway now that risotto-analysis has come into the picture, let me explain to you who this London Glutton is. I moved here early September to undergo full-time dance training, and I have an ironic love for food.

If you're in London you have to do it. It's the rules.

Maybe Singapore is to blame for being my hometown. Singapore is a complete Asian food paradise. But that is irrelevant because it is London and it is time to put some English food on my plate. And after I do that I will blog about it.


1I have abbreviated the names of my host family because my sister said it would be nice to keep them anonymous and I agree with her, also because they are such nice people and I don't want future homestayers to see this and judge them. It sure would be a pity if they forfeited Mr C's Italian risotto.

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