Last weekend I indulged in one of my infamous "mini-trips" to England. I never left New York, but it kinda felt like I did.
Yes, I woke up at the crack of dawn to watch the wedding. Had a strong cup of English Breakfast tea to sustain me through the inevitable jet lag. I'm not going into detail about my thoughts on the wedding: the media covered it enough. But when I was presented with a free Sunday, I was still on the Brit kick, so I went to the Frick.
For years I've wanted to see the Frick Collection, on 70th Street on the East Side. My frugal side didn't want to pay the $18 admission, and the only pay-what-you-like time is Sunday between 11 AM and 1 PM. That's almost impossible for me, or at least it was, because there's an exception to every rule. So a friend of mine accompanied me to the museum, and I don't think either of us were disappointed. I got to see enough Vermeer and Rembrandt (the latter had a special exhibit of drawings in the lower lovel) to last me a while, setting off an alarm in the process. What do you want? I'm short sighted! Though the Frick is not necessarily English, it's a mini-trip I was after, and this was close enough to a mini-National Gallery. Instead of exiting at Trafalgar Square, we got Central Park.
We walked up quite an appetite, and took the train down to 14th Street, to our next destination: the ultra-anglophilic Tea and Sympathy. You probably don't need to hear my thoughts on this place; I've covered it often enough. And then some. But here's a few snaps anyway:
It was my friend's initiation into Afternoon Tea, and predictably she was delighted. The clotted cream was the ultimate pleasure...unmatchable!
Royal Wedding Menu!
Picked up a few things at Myers of Keswick, including the elusive Strongbow Cider. It's conveniently located a few blocks from Tea and Sympathy, so if you're still hankering for cornish pasties or real Cadbury's or even Fairy dishwashing liquid, here's your spot. We also got to meet Molly the Cat, who was in the news a few years back for getting stuck between the building walls or some other catlike scrape. She didn't seem at all traumatized; in fact, she was real friendly and playful.
A mildly defensive note: I don't care at all for politics, so my interest in all things British is not an attitude of superiority. I know better. It's just an unexplainable 'thing'. We all have those 'things'. There's a market for it. There's probably an app for it too.
Well, that weekend is over and another one awaits. I don't think I'm doing anything particularly English besides watching another series of Lark Rise to Candleford. I'll have some book reviews and pairings in that vein coming as well.