Sinead's hand. Jamie Oliver. Invisibility. Etc. (1/13/10)

In Which We Support Equality
Stateside this week, all eyes are turned to California, where two homosexual couples are challenging the passage of Proposition 8, which made gay marriage illegal. You can check out Newsweek's "The Conservative Case for Gay Marriage" if you want to know why a Republican attorney took the plaintiffs' case.

And you can check out this adorable Irish video (which I could have sworn I already posted on here, but can't find, so maybe that was one of my hallucinations) for another perspective on the subject:



In Which We Love Food
I don't really watch celebrity chefs, because I am a super-crazy picky eater and could never eat all of that "mashed raspberry syrup over lamb shanks marinated in goat's milk and drizzled with curried spinach and ginger shavings" sort of food. I'm more of a meat-and-raw-vegetables kind of girl.

But maybe I should watch Jamie Oliver. He does have a totally adorable accent; he isn't all shout-y and swear-y like one Gordon Ramsey; and this cat lufs him!



Also in Oliver's favor is that his grandparents ran an Essex pub called the Plough and Snail—pub name EPIC WIN.

In Which We Watch Our Backs

Because, apparently, invisibility—possibly in the form of Harry Potter—might attack at any moment.


Yeah…Oddly Specific is my new favorite website.

In Which We Practice Our Wonky English Accent, Guv'nor
Are you an American in the UK? Are you a Tea-Drinker in the US? Do you never understand anything anyone's talking about? Then visit Effingpot for a pretty good vocabulary lesson, covering everything from the game of conkers (which "The Bugle" recently tried to explain, much less effectively) to Cockney rhyming slang (be warned, Americans: septic = septic tank = yank = you).

In Which We Stop Blogging and Do Something Productive
Like, I dunno, go to work like a big girl? Anglotastic out, kidz. Catch you on the flip.

The Jolly Postman eats prison food? (9/4/09)

Dudes, I don't need anyone to tell me that you're a lawless bunch. I am perfectly acquainted with the sad fact that my readership comprises a bunch of window-busting, property-destroying, little old lady–robbing thugs. (And you're all just itching to pull the plug on America's grandmothers, aren't you?)

Well, you're in luck. 'Cause in the UK, hardened criminals eat better than hospital patients. Apparently the British sick "face barriers in getting good nutrition." That's comforting. Glad NO ONE has decent health care. It would be such a shame to be the only country in this sad-sack medical mess, all by our lonesome.

Too bad this syringe isn't full of a complete roast beef dinner, topped off with blueberry pie. Oh, Willy Wonka. Where are you when you're needed most?

In cheerier news, The Jolly Postman is The. Most. Wonderful. Book. Ever.


Yesterday, I told y'all how much I lurve books with illustrations and gilt-edged pages and trinkets and other frippery. I was, I confess, referring to books for grown-ups.

But now we turn to children's books: The Brits have a long and often quite satisfactory history with their postal service. The British post was even, once upon a time, something one could set one's watch by.

Enter Allan and Janet Ahlberg's The Jolly Postman. You guys! The postman delivers the letters, then stays for a cuppa while the recipients read them! And there are real letters you can pull out and read!

The Jolly Postman

This may sound a tad—ahem—puerile, but allow me to explain:

• The witch from Hansel and Gretel gets a sales flyer advertising, among other things, "Big Brooms for the Larger Witch";


• Cinderella receives a note from a publisher enclosing a wee book telling an abbreviated version of her story (and the book has its own price and ISBN! OMG!);


• Goldilocks receives a birthday card with fake money enclosed;


• and, you know, et cetera.

ADORBS! I need to own a copy of this book. And of The Jolly Christmas Postman. And of The Jolly Pocket Postman. Loves it!

What ho, a letter?! Don't tell me—Little Red Riding Hood is illegitimate!

While we're here in the post office, as it were, here's some postal trivia for you: One of my 19th-century literary darlings, Anthony Trollope, worked for the postal service for his entire life (and wrote some 40 long-as-eff novels to boot). He got up at ass o'clock in the morning, wrote for four hours, then went to work. He even introduced the postbox to the UK.

Rockin' the postbox. Thanks, Trollope.

In sum: Team Postman! Team Trollope! Rah! Rah! Rah!

All aboard the Hogwarts Express! (9/2/09)

You guys! Yesterday was September 1! Do you know what this means?

That's right. The Hogwarts Express departed. And I missed it!


But no matter; I can just head out to Colorado for a trip on the Durango & Silverton steam engine.

All aboard the Hogwarts Express...erm, I mean the Durango & Silverton.

Provided you arm yourself with the proper imaginative spirit, and perhaps some Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and a Lindt chocolate bar in a homemade Honeydukes wrapper (not that I have ever made any homemade wizarding candy wrappers—especially not when going to see a Harry Potter movie on opening night), it will be exactly like the Hogwarts Express.

Pick up some Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. (The earthworm-flavored one isn't that bad, really, but the vomit-flavored one is awful.)

Homemade Honeydukes, Lindt-style. Delish.

Be sure to bring along a stack of spellbooks, and also your arch nemesis. Just to keep things lively. (Side note: If you need to know everything ever about Harry Potter, try the Harry Potter wiki. This could be useful when I strike out to start my own wizarding colony.)

Tom Felton's sneering Draco Malfoy is Harry's arch nemesis. Who's yours? (I could use a nemesis, actually. Any volunteers?)

While you're trolling the US for sights that are the rightful province of the UK, you may as well drop by Carhenge in Nebraska, if you think you can stomach it.

Carhenge: Western Nebraska's answer to Stonehenge. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

It's like a redneck's feast of cinder blocks and clunkers projectile vomited all over this poor field. How sweet.

And now I think I will take advantage of this splendiferous fall weather. To the park I go!

Standing Up to the UK! (8/9/09)

For those of you who, like me, are plotting your eventual emigration to the motherland, I've got great news: Whole Foods UK! That's right. Your favorite purveyor of snotty, totally delish organic cuisine is based in Austin, Texas, but has opened stores in Great Britain, as well.

Whole Foods. Almost as good as Trader Joe's…but not quite.

Unfortch...it's sort of bleeding cash and has been doing poorly in general, and it may not survive much longer, though it is struggling to revamp by refocusing on health, rather than, say, Amy's Organic Frozen Pizza. Which may be organic, but is still frozen pizza.

In short, you should probs get your expat on sooner rather than later if you want to purchase your Whole Foods nibbles in pounds sterling.

Speaking of the United Kingdom versus the United States, per this (admittedly dated—and yet not, as it's fake) article over at The Onion, you Brits should give credit where credit is due. The US is a proper country by now, thanks! You may possess the wisdom of old age, as you creak in your Saxon-descendent rockers, but we're more than 200 years old, and we'd like to be treated as adults. Humph.

…Yeah. I love The Onion. Best line: "'I've admired the British ever since I saw them on PBS as a kid,' Prousalis added, blushing slightly. 'Do they have any idea how bad they make us feel when they disregard us like this?'" (British television does totally rock. You've got us there.)

"Holy sh**, General. The Americans have got light sabers, too. I thought we were the only ones with keys to the TARDIS!"

Now. Being serious. This is not fun, or amusing, but this article from the Independent about sexual abuse perpetrated by women—often mothers—is eye-opening. The article is not graphic, but discusses the difficulty victims have in getting anyone to take them seriously. Sadface.

But I shall, of course, leave you on a lighter note: William Orbit, the genius behind Madonna's exquisite, Grammy-winning album Ray of Light, has dropped a new record of his own, My Oracle Lives Uptown. Check out this article about the record (and his need to take a break from producing superstars). One of my college friends attempted to persuade me to buy some Orbit, but I never got around to it. I've just bought his 1996 collection The Best of Strange Cargos, though—said friend never led me wrong when it came to musical considerations, whether he was championing Britney Spears, Incubus, Bonnie Raitt, or Missy Elliott.

William Orbit: a senstive musician. How original.

And now I'm going to go squeeze what joy I can out of what bit of weekend is left. Wish me luck!

Stuff I bought yesterday! (8/4/09)

1. A half-pound hamburger. I met one of my girls for dinner, and we ate at The Coffee Shop, which has fab hamburgers and crispily awesome herb fries. And I ate the whole thing. Result = I was stuffed like haggis. (Which is apparently "bloody delicious.")


2. He Knew He Was Right, Anthony Trollope
   I just loathe the New York Public Library system. There's no central lending collection! No browsing! No big, beautiful courtyard for lunching whilst studying! *pines for Boston* Anywho, I've been dying to read HKHWR; as I mentioned before, Trollope is awesome. So I caved and bought it, and I've only read the first two sentences, but I'm already hooked. Such is the wonder of Trollope. And now, a mere 800 pages to go…such is the loquaciousness that is Trollope. Oh, you Victorians and your epic novels.


3. The July issue of British GQ. Megan Fox is on the cover, which was a deterrent, but the articles about polo, Nicolas Sarkozy, and Manchester were too intriguing to resist, so there you go.


4. On the opposite end of the magazine spectrum, I snagged the August/September issue of Bust, the cover of which advertises a fall preview of "the best in girl-friendly movies, music, fashion, books, and television." Also, they're holding a summer craftacular at York Hall in Bethnal Green, London, on August 22! If you're in the UK and you like amazing handmade goods, you should go. I dropped a lot of cash at the Brooklyn event last spring and scored some gorgeous jewelry and clothes, plus a compass to prevent me from getting lost in Central Park. (Really!)

Today, there will be no shopping. But there WILL be Doctor Who. Oh, yes!

Sunday linkfest! (8/2/09)

Get ready, y'all—bad-news bears up in here. (Also gross-news bears. Thanks, haggis.)

• Haggis (sheep's stomach filled with offal), Scotland's signature dish, may have English origins! OMG! Let the infighting begin.

Haggis: Ew, Ew, EW!

• This article about the potential for robots to run amok and take over the world isn't especially English, but it is in the Times of London, and it is also fucking freaky.

Scientists suggest robots of the future could be less Jetsons and more Terminator. This could be a problem.

• The UK is planning to tighten its immigration laws in what can only be interpreted as an effort to keep me out. Bastards!

You're going to have to work harder than that to turn me away, Tea-Drinkers!

• Ants with "a fatal attraction to electricity" have invaded the UK. Perhaps Parliament should get cracking on those immigration laws, after all.

Just sing the "Electric Slide" to yourself. (Come on, now. You knew that reference was inevitable.)

• Emma Watson, aka Hermione Granger, is the descendant of a convicted 16th-century witch. (Also, Watson grew up in a town 100 miles away from where the witch lived. It's so cute, this little island where families are anchored to one spot for centuries. However do y'all manage to be so adorable?)

Emma Watson at her most Hermione-ish.

Linkfest: completed. And the weekend, tragically, draws to a close. Catch y'all on the flip side!

Confessions of an Anglophile... (7/26/09)

Y'all. This is my confession: Confessions of a Shopaholic is actually kind of a rad book.


I know, right? I assumed it was going to be painfully superficial and packed to the brim with nonsensical discussions of designer brands, but not so! It's actually extremely well-written and engaging, protagonist Becky is utterly likable, and the story includes a filthy rich, delightfully odd Scotsman; a Hottie McHott City bloke; and quite a few awkwardly realistic letters from various banks and credit card companies that inspired me to institute a more firm-handed bill-paying schedule. (Just because I'm a space cadet doesn't mean I should pay late fees, y'all.)

But the best bit is that it's a really honest look at a young woman's (almost always hideously slash hilariously embarrassing) battle with her emotional crutch, which, for Becky, is shopping.

For Dawn French and me, on the other hand, it's Terry's Chocolate Orange:



No word yet on whether the rest of the series is any good, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed, and I will def let you know. Also no word on whether the stupid Americanized movie—which conflates Confessions with Shopaholic Takes Manhattan—is worthwhile. But I DO know that my local Irish grocer is stocked up on Terry's Chocolate Orange, so that's something!

Ice cream and swans (7/23/09)

I'll post a proper post tonight, y'all, I promise! And I'll get my schedule fixed soon, so I can post in the mornings like I'm s'posed to. In the meantime, allow me to leave you with some hot ice cream and a video of the "thrifty" Queen attending the annual Swan Upping on the Thames.

Dial-a-Ghost, plus ejaculating cake! (7/22/09)

First up: adorable kidz' book. (I am a big old sucker for children's lit. I think maybe there's less navel-gazing than in grown-up land? Whatever it is...kidz' books rock!) Dial-a-Ghost, by Eva Ibbotson, is pinch-its-cheeks cute. To wit: Oliver Smith's evil cousins try to scare him to death—but the lovely, oh-so-British Wilkinsons turn up and befriend him instead. Confusion and awesomeness ensue. (Adopta the ghost-animal lover helps.)

Basically, any book that starts off like this:

The Wilkinson family became ghosts quite suddenly during the Second World War when a bomb fell on their house.

possesses just the right amount of whimsy, I think. Also, my biggest, most Anglophiliest obsession is British English. The English on the Other Side of the Pond rocks my socks, and it totally runs rampant up in here. Yes!


Speaking of the Second World War, which was a long time ago...1623 was also a long time ago. And here is a mince pie recipe from 1623! Thanks, Britain Express! They also have more reasonable recipes, like Harry Potter's fave, treacle toffee.

Once upon a time, I checked out a book from the library with old English recipes—but as minor details (such as oven temperatures) were conspicuously absent, I didn't get very far. Nor with the mince pie recipe, I think. It instructs you to "cut the best flesh of the best flesh" from a leg of mutton, for starters. A tad vague for me.

Anywho, while we're chatting about food, how about star British chef Heston Blumenthal's ejaculating cake? Heston did a series of period dinners (the Victorian one featured an enormous glow-in-the-dark absinthe jelly), and ejaculating cake is a Roman delicacy, apparently. I couldn't find a video of Heston's cake in action, but for a more mod, very graphic (read: kind of crass) American version, check out this (very) short video (premature ejaculation short, if you know what I'm sayin').

Heston Blumenthal's ejaculating cake, post-coital.

In de rigueur Harry Potter news, Emma Watson has confirmed to Paste magazine that she will be attending Uni in the US, at Brown. (Actually, she said, "I’ve got a place there to read literature." How Very British.)

Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson being adorable together.

You can also check out the Paste interview with Daniel Radcliffe, as well as their general Harry Potter mania, including props for my boys Harry and the Potters. Nice.

Joe and Paul DeGeorge are wizards who rock.

(Side note: Paste and its founder/editor-in-chief, Josh Jackson, are both awesome. Like many, many other mags, it's struggling hardcore right now, so if you lurve music, you might consider subscribing to it.)

And now I leave you with my new favorite thing: the Guardian news quiz. I always fail, but it keeps me informed, more or less.

For example: Did you know that Prince Charles is now repurposing his bathwater to his garden? Sounds like my whole switching from tp to leaves theory wasn't as far off as one might have thought!

HBP with a cup of tea and cluelessness (7/19/09)

Maybe my blood sugar was low.

Maybe it was raging PMS.

Or maybe it was that Half-Blood Prince is, hands down, my absolute favorite Harry Potter book.

But whatever it was, despite some key perks—Alan Rickman's pitch-perfect Snape, Rupert Grint's continued flawless delivery as Ron, and Daniel Radcliffe's charming stoner scene, to be specific—I have only one word to say about the movie:

Yawn.

Half-Blood Prince: Not my cup of butterbeer.

Moving swiftly onward...

My friend and I did indeed hit Tea and Sympathy for lunch on Friday, and it was adorable, entertaining, and embarrassing. What a fab combo, right? The restaurant is TINY, which is to say that it seats only 23 (23!); actual Brits, complete with adorable accents and vocabularies, go there; and the food was yummy and authentically English. And since I am pickier than a vegan (according to a reputable, meat-and-dairy-shunning source), there wasn't a ton I could eat...but the scones were yummy, as was the vanilla mint tea.

Tea and Sympathy = Yum!

But...I'd never had a pot of tea made with loose leaves before, so let's just say that I was having issues with the strainer. (I tried putting the strainer-rest IN my teacup. FAIL.) And the lid of the King Henry VIII–themed china teapot nearly met its death when I tipped the pot over too far. And the too-old-for-me-but-totally-hot Englishman sitting next to my friend very nearly had to catch it for me. *blush*

On a less humiliating front, I watched Clueless for probably the millionth time last night, and I just want to say this: best Jane Austen adaptation EVER. I'm not saying I don't lurve Pride and Prejudice '95, 'cause I do; I'm just saying that Cher is SUCH a good Emma. And that every line in the movie is perfect and hilarious. And that every character is awesome. And that every actor does a totally rockin' job. And that, in short, Miss Jane Austen would be very pleased indeed were she to see it. (And/or horrified by everyone's general lack of propriety in their manner of dress. But whatever.)

"He said you gave him a toothache!"

And now...back to the couch for cuddling with Fred the kitty and watching The Mary Tyler Moore Show. I haven't seen Mary and the gang in ages—let's hear it for WJM, y'all. Minneapolis represent!

Friday Briefs: Bacon Sandwiches meet Swine Flu and Eco-Towns! (7/17/09)

Dudes. I have hundreds of things to tell you! Well, scores at least. But if you'll check your pocket watches and sundials, you will see that I am running behind like whoa, and I have mere moments in which to post! So keep up - this is gonna be quick as a...quick thing. And brief as a brief thing:

Richard Armitage wearing brief things in Cold Feet. LOL!

And now, on to a few pieces of Friday newsnass. Check it out, ladies and gents:

1. I am going to have a super-duper Brit-tastic day. A friend and I are going to Tea and Sympathy for lunch, where I will be having my favey-fave scones, plus perhaps a bacon sandwich? And this evening, at long last, Half-Blood Prince! I'm sort of planning on it sucking, so as to avoid any potentiality for crushing disappointment. I'll keep you posted. I'm sure you'll be waiting with bated breath.



Bacon sandwich! Yum!


2. Speaking of Won-Won (who never disappoints, incidentally), it looks like we should all be saying prayers to St. Dumbledore to keep the HP cast safe, on account of the UK is preparing for 65,000 swine flu deaths. Their toll has risen rather suddenly to 29 deaths, and they believe 30 percent of the island may become infected. At least they don't have rabies.


3. It's like the Sims! The Tea-Drinkers are in the planning stages for four eco-towns. Aw! Their own little eco-towns! Unfortch, the masses are arguing over what will happen: Will the Sims flourish, or will they set the house on fire? Developments will eventually follow, no doubt.

Tragically, that is all I have time for today, but I will be updating you on bits and bobs of this and that forthwith! Merry Friday to you all!

Eating Britty in the City (7/14/09)

Three words, y'all: Alice's Tea Cup!!!

OMG mismatched china, Alice in Wonderland paintings, and yummilicious, über-British food, complete with more than 100 teas and a fab selection of scones. (Yay! Scones!) I've been dying to check out this Alice in Wonderland–themed restaurant for months, and I finally went for brunch last weekend. If you are in New York at any point, I DEMAND that you eat here.


I can tell you from personal experience that the summer peach tea, ham-and-cheese scone (with clotted cream and raspberry preserves!), chocolate scone, pumpkin pancakes topped with mixed berries, potato-and-chicken hash, and lapsang souchong smoked chicken breast sandwich (with granny smith apples and herbed goat cheese on seven-grain bread!) are all totally scrummy. Emphasis on the ham-and-cheese scone with clotted cream and raspberry preserves. My mouth is actually watering as I write. I cannot WAIT to go back.


And it must be mentioned: I lurve a restaurant with an awesome bathroom, and the bathroom at the 64th St. outpost of the Tea Cup is decorated with white roses being painted red. Oh, yes.


While we're talking about our curious girl Alice: We've all been hearing a great deal about Johnny Depp repping for the Mad Hatter in the upcoming remake, but I didn't realize that the fabulous Helena Bonham Carter would be playing the Queen of Hearts! Awesomeness.


Aside from watching the new Alice and rewatching the totally trippy old Alice, I need to keep my eye on Oxford, home to the real Alice. Oxford is also home to Alice's Shop, which inspired the sheepshop in the book. A friend hooked me up with the Alice and Lewis Carroll Oxford Trail, which I will totally rock on a really nerdy trip to the UK one of these days.



Now that y'all are caught up on all the Alice info I've got, I have just one question for you, in light of this week's impending premiere: Would you send your child to Hogwarts?


Sarah Ebner says no. I say...it depends on how much I like said child. I mean...Professor Snape could really get a little brat into shape. On the other hand, if it were a nice child...perhaps not. Of course, that's assuming that understanding math and English literature through "education" is an actual necessity. I suspect Hermione reads the classics on her own time, thank you very much.

Tumtum & Nutmeg, plus food (7/9/09)

I just read the loveliest YA book! It's a collection of three stories called Tumtum & Nutmeg: Adventures Beyond Nutmouse Hall, by Emily Bearns, and it has some of my favorite things:

1. Posh Brits (well, mice) with big houses and modest expectations;


2. Characters who keep falling into adventures when they'd rather be curled up with a nice book; and


3. Fictional mice (much more adorable than non-fictional mice, which can be a bit creepy scurrying around your apartment in the dark).

Included: an evil aunt, pogo stick–wielding ballerinas, and pirate rats! Highly recommended (particularly for the younger set, mind you). But the author's cutie-patootie website has fun for all ages—namely, a recipe for Peppermint Creams. I'm not sure what those are, but they sound lovely.


In other food news, London events company Bompas & Parr, which is apparently an extremely sensitive establishment, "created black cherry and Champagne jellies set with 24-carat gold" to serve last Tuesday in honor of Michael Jackson's memorial. Um, Jell-O? Really? For mourning cakes? Inappropriate much?

More thrillingly, I just found a website called British Food Direct, "for expats and British food lovers," and I think it's going to change my life, despite their faint grasp of English grammar (see below). I mean, holy Cadbury chocolate, Batman! This is fantastic! I will keep you posted.


Finally, my mom is in town, and we stopped in my local Irish grocer for some Nutella tonight. An adorable, white-haired old Irishman asked my mom where the custard was; she didn't know where (or what) it was, so he went off to ask someone else. Instead of getting help from someone who worked there, he asked another man who had been waiting in line, and who led him to it in the back of the store while the cashier held the line for him. A discussion on how to make custard from a powder followed. (Add milk. Bring to boil. Add awesome Irish accent to taste.)