Yup. It’s real.
It really can’t be good for you, all that sugar and water…
Ridiculous though, isn’t it? I mean, come on… how the heck do you get the fork into the bottle?
Yup. It’s real.
It really can’t be good for you, all that sugar and water…
Ridiculous though, isn’t it? I mean, come on… how the heck do you get the fork into the bottle?
Well done – your wait is over.
Here’s some snaps of the chocolate nests made from Shredded Wheat and melted chocolate, as per Aunty Beeb.
So we all trekked off to the Auto Show on Friday. Quite a pleasant day out. We then went to the Bellaggio Café for lunch, opposite Canada Place in Vancouver. Near the Giant Blue Sperm. (It’s Art. It’s also German. Just sayin’…)
I have to say that the food was pretty good. The spelling though?! Interesting at the very least. It’s no connection at all with Bellagio (one g) in Las Vegas. There were no fountains or Dale Chihuly glass art.
Now I’m a big fan of Eddie Izzard‘s work. Mainly his stand-up, but also his straight acting. Up there with the best bits though is “Darth Vader in the Death Star canteen”. So famous in fact that it has been done in Lego and re-enacted word perfect by pre-pubescent boys a thousand times on YouTube. If by some fate of nature you’ve made it through life thus far without having seen it, try this video. If you’re well aware of Jeff, Sir Lord Vader of Cheam, then read on. Or eat cake. Your choice.
Now, I’d never actually heard of Penne Arrabbiata prior to Eddie Izzard, and I’ve never seen it on a menu. I thought it was one of those made up names. I once tried ordering the popular-in-Canada Alfredo sauce with my pasta on a trip to Northern Italy to howls of laughter and questions as to who in the name of all that is edible was this Alfredo chap?! Same with Latte – unknown in small town Italy.
Imagine my surprise then to see Penne Arrabbiata on the menu in Bellaggio’s. I opted in the end to share a proper Italian-style pizza (less crust than topping, unlike typical North American 2″ deep doughy monstrosities) with Mrs E., so can’t attest to the quality of the Arrabbiata sauce. Nor, I’m afraid can I attest to what a chocolate mouse tastes like. Even if serverd with ice-cream. Look carefully at Royal Chocolate in the photo…
Our waitress was very attentive but unfortunately it was other staff who delivered the actual orders. These others seemed to think it odd that we might want side plates in order to share our chicken wings, or regular plates off which to eat our pizzas. On the first attempt we were given teacup saucers!
The actual waitress, as I mentioned, was very attentive though. She was also English. Better – she was from Yorkshire. I know this because she told me so. Years ago, a French Canadian once told me that one need never ask if someone was from Yorkshire, as they’ll have already told you. C’est vrai! She’d married a bloke from Leeds it seems.
Over the space of our lunch we both politely circled around and determined our origins. I’d been in Canada 12 years, she 4. I was from “near Bradford” (in galactic terms at least – actually Silsden), she “from Doncaster”. My sister was born in Doncaster. Later, I said I’d spent my first 4 years in a village called Skellow, but couldn’t recall how close to Donny it actually was. It’s a suburb, she said. It’s where she’s really from! We agreed it was indeed a small world, and went our separate ways.
I just checked on Google Maps at what the old street looks like now. The one I spent my first four years on. Learning not to eat Play-Doh, alongside other life lessons. Watching the Vietnam war on black and white TV. The old house is still there – and yes: that’s the A1 in spitting distance over the road. The Great North Road built by the Romans, and used ever since for moving untold volumes of goods North/South in England. “Go play in the fast lane of the A1″ was a common repost when I was at school in later years. It really was incredibly possible…
Every year, my kids go all sentimental about the UK and dig up an old Easter favourite “edible craft” from the BBC.
Here’s the link and the attendant photo.
If you’re patient, I’ll post a couple of photos of their version when they come out of the fridge…
This little collection is just for Sheriji.
Happy Easter one and all!
Second born came home the other day. She’d been on a school band trip to the UK and France. By all accounts it was a bit disappointing. They spent most of their time there travelling between places rather than actually at places. It culminated in a couple of hours free time to go shopping in Paris.
On a Sunday morning.
Paris, you’ll recall is in France – a nominally Catholic country.
Though shops in La Défence were indeed open… they were ejected from the coach nowhere near there, and therefore were condemned to wander the streets of Paris sans distraction! Still – she brought home most of the Euros I’d given her.
They’d previously spent an entire day going to/from Chartres. Chartres has a cathedral with stained glass windows with a very special blue. It also has… it has… well, it has a cathedral. (These were PNW teenagers remember, not culture vultures who think centuries old stained glass and the science of colour is quite interesting really.)
At least when they were in the UK they got to see Stonehenge and Bath. Not Woodhenge though.
You think I’m joking don’t you? Second born did too. I shit you not – there’s a Woodhenge too near Avebury. Kind of the prototype, I suppose. (The post holes are marked with slightly more resilient concrete posts now.)
She was very kind in getting everyone presents though, on her return. Mine were beyond awesome. Firstly a box of Jaffa Cakes! I did share a couple today at work to rapturous, if slightly confused reception. Jaffa Cakes are a British delicacy made by McVitie’s the biscuit company. Oddly, in Canada there’s a French pretender sold by the LU biscuit company, known as Pim’s Orange.
I found this picture of Jaffa Cakes on a web site called “Tea & Sympathy” a very English phrase – despite it being a New York site.
There I also found the following delightful quotes:
“An Englishman, even if he is alone, forms an orderly queue of 1.” – George Mikes
“Never trust a man who, when left alone in a room with a tea cozy, doesn’t try it on.” – Billy Connolly
“The British have an umbilical cord which has never been cut and through which tea flows constantly.” – Marlene Dietrich
I also found a good image of the French pretender on Amazon, for comparison. One can’t deny it’s a little more polished. More refined. Chic. In a word – French.
But that was not all. No – far from it! She also fed my obsession for socks. The more weird and wacky the better. Slowly, slowly my preference is being met in BC, but it’s been a long time coming, and needs regular supplementation from Europe. To date it’s mainly via H&M which is a Swedish company and somehow manages to get around the “boring sock” mandate so rigidly enforced in the North American market. That unwritten rule ensures that most North American men wear only black, grey or Darwin-forbid: white socks. The more daring might go as far as brown, but that’s your lot! I can’t help but feel the market here must surely be ready for socks of more than one colour! Or indeed a colour! I am not averse to wearing neon orange or lime green, if only I could find them! (I used to own a pair of each bought in Germany 8 years ago. Falke was the brand. Their subsequent demise was a low point in my life).
She brought me two pairs of quite jaunty socks from TOPMAN in the UK. Bless her.
I rang my folks yesterday (Sunday). My dad answered. We don’t speak that often these days. Father/son/alpha-male kind of thing I suppose. My parents still live in the house I grew up in. They moved there when I was 4 years old. Silsden still had cobbled streets back then. It’s been a while since I was 4 years old…
The conversation subjects were quite diverse, which was pleasant. As I said – we don’t talk often, and usually if it’s he who answers the phone I am promptly passed to “yamum”. I gather the mater wasn’t in, as he kept talking at length. At last I brought the subject around to their recent holiday trip up the Norwegian coast in search of The Northern Lights. They’d originally planned to see the lights off the coast of Alaska, and stop in to see our little outpost on the way. I guess Norway was significantly closer in the final analysis.
My dad recounted a tale of one fellow passenger who was loudly demanding his money back for the entire trip since he’d not seen the Aurora Borealis. Ignoring for a second that, as a natural phenomenon, it doesn’t appear on cue for tourists, the phenomenon had in fact been sighted several times during the trip – three by my own dad, and potentially other times in addition. The cruise itinerary makes it perfectly clear that – though likely – a sighting is not guaranteed. Some people…
As they arrived in Norway, they were told by the tour courier that the ship was delayed further North, as there had been heavy storms preventing its progress. They were to fly North to meet it and continue as planned from there. No biggy. They were pampered and enjoyed the transfer reasonably well. My parents were travelling with Titan Travel, and they have greatly enjoyed adventures all over the world with them for no less than 12 years! They recognised the tour guide from a previous trip to New Zealand, and he asked what adventures they were expecting on this trip. My pater is no spring chicken at 73, but he and mum had pre-paid for 5 day trips along the cruise including such adventures as dog-sledding and snowmobiling. Jealous, or what?!
This then caused a stir because the tour guide only had them on his lists for two of the five trips they were expecting. Obviously a cock-up, but weird they were on some of the lists rather than none/all. The fees had been pre-paid (£1,100 or about $1,700), receipts issued, blah, blah, but no explicit confirmation that they’d been booked on the five trip… and they weren’t.
Now, given that this guy’s sole role on the cruise is to be the contact for his little tour group, he was by all accounts next to useless. After actually uttering the words “what do you expect me to do about it now?” he basically shrugged his shoulders and told my folks they’d have to claim their fees back once they got home. As my dad said to me though – he’s knocking on a bit, and the chances of him having an opportunity to go dog-sledding or snowmobiling ever again are slim to nil. He was sure to tell me that they did enjoy the cruise itself, but obviously were left at a bit of a loss on three days they’d expected to be “living large”.
Not a great customer service win there, Titan! Mistakes happen, but it’s how you deal with them that matters.
One of the reasons I’d called though was that the other Sunday was Mothers Day in the UK. There, it’s all part of the spring festival vibe, daffodils being sent home with kids in their droves, that sort of thing. I’d arranged a small package from Betty’s of Harrogate, and both Betty’s and the Royal Mail had sent me a steady stream of (no doubt automated, but never-the-less…) emails telling me my order was confirmed, was ready for shipping, had been shipped, and ultimately had indeed been delivered on the day I requested.
As an ex-pat with a mum several thousand miles away, this sort of service (on the few years I remember to invoke it!) is a Darwin-send. I was in no doubt that they’d extracted money (which seemed painless at the time), had kept their side of the bargain and sent something, and ultimately had ensured that it had arrived as agreed. I half expected them to let me know my mum had made her first cup of tea with the contents of the parcel, and report she was refusing to share the biscuits!
A small thing in the end. Just a few highly automated emails. But I felt I’d been kept “in the loop”. So much so I’d use them again. Customer Service. With capital letters!
Fast forward to yesterday (actually – it was he same day. I’m messing with your mind!). Mrs E and I found ourselves in Vancouver visiting the Bloedel Conservatory. My camera greatly enjoyed the outing.
Regular readers may recall that on Friday the 8th, myself and a couple of colleagues visited Romer’s Burger Bar in SW Burnaby. If not – it’s blogged here. Well it was kinda-sorta on the way home and Mrs E seemed a little peeved I’d been off enjoying myself without her. She was driving, so we made a small detour and headed to Kerr St for tea. It was a pleasant evening, but I’d forgotten (being a Brit!) that it was St. Patrick’s day, and everyone seemed to find it amusing to dress in green and offer lurid drinks to passers by. I don’t expect such exuberance on St. George’s day, unfortunately.
We were seated immediately and ordered our burgers and chips. We went for some fancy chips with garlic and other poncy trimmings. Mrs E’s got a bit of an allergy thing with vinegar and studiously avoids dressings such as mustard. She also dislikes cheese. So, when she selected an impressively meaty option she carefully told the server to skip the Gorgonzola cheese. A few minutes later our appetising burgers arrived, and we were off to the races. Except…
Mrs E is a little more cautious than most, and lifted her burger bun to see… mayonnaise! Her face grimaced and was still holding the pose when the server returned to ask how things were going.
“The menu didn’t say there’d be mayonnaise” was her statement.
True enough, but it’s not exactly a shock to discover it lurking in a North American burger in my experience. (Mine had undisclosed mustard, just for the record). In a heartbeat the server whisked the burger away, promising another – sans sauce.
True to her word, another burger unsullied by dressings was delivered, and she said the manager “had taken care of the fries” because of the mistake. I protested that there had been no mistake, just a misunderstanding, but to no avail. ‘Twas done. I was so impressed by the attitude, and over-correction of the very minor incident that I didn’t even mention that she’d failed to return my wife’s cutlery, forcing her to eat her burger in a most un-English way!
This was definitely “up there” in positive Customer Service experiences. No push-back or argument from the server – just a rapid resolution. And to get a little off the bill to-boot. Sure a plate of fries isn’t going to make much difference to their bottom line, but it was the gesture. Deliberately going beyond what was strictly necessary.
Would I go back? Of course! Would I recommend it to others? I think I just did.
Now, if only Titan Travel executives ate there too…
Last weekend and much of this week has been cool and wet in Greater Vancouver. Friday though… oh, Friday was a lovely sunny day!
Mischief was in the air and we three Product Managers slipped away for lunch in the sun. We nominally set off for sushi at my suggestion. This was intended to be at one of the local sushi places in Richmond and therefore relatively quick. However my colleague favours a particular establishment near Metrotown in Burnaby – The Shushi Garden. Since he was driving the other two of us were not entirely unwilling prisoners as we headed North over the Fraser on the Knight Street bridge. As we hacked East along Marine heading for Boundary in Burnaby, he suddenly declared “change of plan” and swerved across three lanes of traffic to head South on the steep but short remnants of Kerr as it heads for the Fraser river.
We crossed the rail tracks and pulled up at what looks like a brand new riverside development of townhouses and apartments There’s a lovely riverside park, a more well established pier, some log booms and… a restaurant. Well, more a burger and pub kind of place, but very nice looking and lots of river-facing glass frontage. Romer’s Burger Bar is the name. Well worth a visit if you’re in the area. Turns out there’s one in Kitsilano and Yaletown too. A “sleeve” of beer (Canadian way of being non too specific about how much is in it – such is the problem of being a British Commonwealth country (20 oz pint) but doing most of your business with the U.S. (16 oz pint)) was about $5, and the burgers ranged from about $10 to $13 depending how fancy you wanted to get. I had a port and Stilton one which was actually one of the cheapest at $10. The chips came extra though and were none-too-cheap. Still, the ones we selected had truffle oil (my favourite cooking oil) and Reggiano, and were very nearly worth the $7.
The building was modern but in keeping with the area. To the right of this publicity shot is a small community centre that seemed to be showing children’s movies in preparation for the upcoming Spring Break.
I’d definitely go again, if only to enjoy the pleasant surroundings – not dissimilar to Fort Langley.
Who doesn’t love pie?
Someone told me of this place a few weeks ago. They open at 11am… and close when they run out of pie! Simple concept. They bake fresh, and close when it’s all gone.
This little short is how they went from zero to open in only 9 days by tapping into friendships and using their own resources.
I briefly worked with one of the people in the video. She’s a lot less colourful in monochrome!
<Beware loud music from muzo.tv when clicking the link below for full story>
Believe it or not, the UK has “National Yorkshire Pudding Day”. I shit you not! First Sunday in February. Honest – check here, if you (wisely) don’t find it easy to believe what you read on these pages.
One in the eye for him, you might say.