I had a good Spanish lesson this morning, in which I practiced trying to use particular grammatical structures, trying to force them into my brain. It was a tiring lesson, so it must have been working. The GF and I then went off to Serenity, the only restaurant that feels like dining out in the old days, before he became vegetarian. Since it’s extremely refined vegetarian food, we could order anything we liked, and this was our best meal there yet, so it cemented its place as my favourite Taiwanese restaurant. We had my beloved tea tree mushrooms, aubergine with basil, a mock meat casserole with perfectly judged braised cabbage and crisp, fresh sugar peas, and the best fried rice I have ever had. We then walked over to Ollo cafe but were greeted by the sign at the entrance saying it was full, do not ask us for a table. Since a peep through the window suggested that this was unlikely to change we went instead of Simple Kaffa about 15 minutes away, a pleasant stroll connecting points we knew. Here there was a wait again, but we eventually got a table and I had a tasty latte infused with tea, rather like an Earl Grey coffee, but not loathesome in the way of Earl Grey tea.
This had to make up for dinner which was terrible. I had an inkling of this as it was not our turn to cook and I had noticed some supermarket tortillas in the fridge, but it turned out to be even worse than expected. Tortillas with jarred pesto, jarred olives, jarred sundried tomatoes and a Brie that must have been made using prison labour, plus alfalfa sprouts, undressed lettuce and the two warm components: chicken breast and mushrooms, both cooked in the same jarred pesto. It was not only immensely sad, it reminded me in both nature and satisfaction afforded of the meals served at my book club back in London. I had got into the habit of going to nearby Edgeware Road first and having some kibbeh and falafel, knowing the misery that lay ahead. I think there is a certain type of middle European (the equivalent of middle America, not Mitteleuropa) which enjoys that sort of food. As it happened, no matter what I did, the wrap I constructed was like an unhappier version of the best sandwiches prepared by my university dining hall. Fortunately, I have some very good fresh corn in the fridge, and intend to make some for myself later.
I have developed a rather bad habit of getting rather offended at bad food served to me whereas if I seek it out, I will happily accept the most disgusting stuff. I particularly get offended by meals like this where every single one of the non-fresh ingredients was imported from another continent, and was extremely poor quality. Why not use what is local and better quality, reserving these unconscionable imports for an occasional indulgence?