For the last year, I have had the pleasure of living in London, which for most Americans traveling abroad has long been the bastard child of Europe when it comes to cuisine. And at first glance, English fare does appear to pale in comparison to the delicacies of its more southerly neighbors. Italy, for instance, has figs and fresh mozzarella; London has mushy peas. France has bouillabaisse; London has meat pies and pickles. Spain invented paella; Londoners cherish their marmite. Oh, and also their boiled beef and carrots, especially on Sundays, the day of roast, er, rest.When I told my friends and family I was moving to London, most of them asked me what I was going to eat, being that I've been a vegetarian for five years and British cuisine is thought to be rather hardy and heavy on the sausage. And while I was looking forward to trying some good English ale in London, I'll admit that I wasn't expecting too much in the way of fine fare when I pulled a Madonna (la isla bonita!) and jumped the pond from New York last summer.
Surprisingly, the food has been above par. In fact, the one bad meal I've had since moving here was a wild mushroom risotto that was as sticky as glue and dry as toast. I made it myself.
Turns out that my neighborhood, Marylebone, is chock-full of tasty places, including a famous fish and chips shop, an upscale vegetarian diner, and a dumpling place that turns out little puffy pieces of heaven, as soft as clouds and as addicting as Gossip Girls. By far my favorite place though is La Fromagerie. The Cheese Shop. Need I say more?
Just off quaint Marylebone High Street, La Fromagerie is one part market, one part cheese room, one part cafe. The market is loaded with amazing produce, freshly baked breads, homemade jams and dry goods like imported olive oil, vinegars and wine. The humidity-controlled, walk-in cheese room is stacked floor to ceiling with perfectly ripe artisanal cheeses from around the world, each labeled with a card and a tasting description. The most amazing aroma of green pastures, barnyard, wood and milk hits you as soon as you walk in.
The connisseurs who work at La Fromagerie know cheese like Nadal knows tennis. Recently my fiance, Michael, and I had a couple of friends over (shout out to Rupal and Neil!) for hors d'oeuvres, and they helped us pick out five different cheeses that worked well together and provided a nice sampling. We then went back this Saturday for a late lunch, early dinner in the cafe.
We ordered the cheese plate, which came with crusty brown bread and eight different cheeses, including a couple--the Gouda Mustard from Holland and the Boulette D'Avesnes from the Thierache region of Northern France--that were completely new to me. The addition of mustard seeds to the gouda gave it a crunch and a spicy, aromatic flavor that would have been perfect accompanied by a beer. The Boulette was a hand-moulded cheese enriched with tarragon, parsley, crushed cloves and salt and pepper and was quite unlike any cheese I've ever tasted. Surprisingly, despite the addition of the fresh herbs, this cheese was rather bland and the texture was weird. I'm glad I tried it, but it wasn't nearly as appealing as the earthy pecorino, the barnyard-tasting sheep's cheese, or the sappy, stinky gorgonzola.
So it turns out that all the worries about what I would eat in London were completely unfounded. I'm quickly learning that this city has much to offer from a culinary perspective. If only I wasn't moving back to the U.S. in one week!
