Here, There and Everywhere

Big Ben - Parliament - London, England

Welcome to London, England.

The British are famous for many things. The list includes roses and an affinity for tea, Harry Potter and The Beatles, kings and queens, and of course - generally bad culinary fare. Therefore, when my family moved to London Towne earlier this year, my mind was alight with excitement - my stomach was not.

Don't get me wrong - I love the English. Some of my dearest friends throughout life have hailed from this island, and for the majority of my childhood I was madly in love with a cabbie I met while transiting through the city. That said, Londoners have not been able to escape the reputation their cuisine, or lack thereof, has acquired.

And so, when I boarded my flight out of Washington Dulles last week, wearing my new red velvet coat, I knew the cupcake I had consumed earlier that day may be my last for weeks. I started to chew my nails as the anxiety set in - would I be forced to take up a new dessert whilst I was away? The extent of my knowledge on British sweets comes from Harry Potter - and, bless him, but I do not think I would fancy treacle tart, banoffee pie or spotted dick - whatever that may be. The dessert that Virgin Atlanta provided did not encourage me.

Millennium Bridge

And then I arrived and all was forgotten. London is like a chapter out of my old history books, dropped into my lap to read: everything has a story. The streets bustle with the same eclectic group of people and shops that you would see in New York. I swear to you my first two days the only English I heard was at home - everyone else seemed to be speaking French or Italian. I walked into the Tube (subway/metro) and was overwhelmed with memories of Paris - as for some reason, the air smelled the same - or maybe it was just the music that was carried by it.

I arrived home and went right back out the door. My roommate from Atlanta, Caroline, was awaiting my arrival and insisted that exploration of the city commence immediately. Of course, the first thing that I wanted to do was eat. We sat down at The Audley on Mount Street and I prepared myself to be overwhelmed. I started sipping on my pint, hoping the beer would provide a decent chaser for whatever catastrophe was about to be placed in front of me. And then the food came: crispy, golden battered cod, smothered in lemon and vinegar, freshly fried chips (french fries), mushy peas (an actual thing), and homemade tartar sauce. Everything melted in mouth and made me seriously question where the rest of the tourists had eaten to develop such a hatred of British food. Fools.

I spent the rest of the day exploring the National Portrait Gallery and Trafalgar Square, Leicester Square and Big Ben - but I could not shake the rumble in my stomach requesting something sweet. And so, when I was walking down Portobello Road the next day admiring the antiques - my heart lurched as a girl walked past me carrying something very clearly red, with icing on top. No - it couldn't be!

But it was - London has Red Velvet cake. It doesn't just have it - Red Velvet is apparently one of the best selling and most popular flavors, and you have to arrive at the shop at a certain time just to get one. Like I said - the British are famous for many things - but I never thought I would put Red Velvet on that list. It is after all, you know...American.

I didn't even have to go inside The Hummingbird Bakery. Red Velvet is so popular that they have a woman out front just to sell that one flavor. She didn't appreciate my request to lift the lid protecting the cupcakes in order to take snaps (photos). Apparently there is a rule in the U.K. that suggests that "taking photographs of the product" is not permissible. I told her that I was a food artist, and that lid lifted rather quickly.

Here's the score:

Aesthetics: 3: I've seen that before...

-Ok, really? The whole 'using crumbs as decoration' thing is getting a little old

Size: 2: No, I did not order a mini/light version
-Now, this might just be a British thing. You see, everything is smaller here. My soda can looks as if it was ordered for a doll and the oven could never fit a proper turkey. Honestly, the only thing that isn't small is the gap between the platform and train on the Tube.

The Red Factor: 3: Sinopia Red
-Or was it Sangria red? It was fine - whatever it was

-Note: If you are new to this blog, please register that the color doesn't really matter to anyone else but me. But, I'm a redhead (ginger to the Brits) - so I'm very particular about what constitutes 'red'

The Cake: 2,4 = 3: I think it was probably good when it came out of the oven + good, definitely edible, moist
-Once again, this may be a British thing. That cupcake had a weird texture - but it still tasted great. I actually had to actively chew the darn thing. It wasn't altogether unappealing, it was just really odd. Is this some strange texture that the Brits enjoy? Does it remind them of sticky toffee pudding? I will have to research this possibility. 

The Icing: 3: Good texture, neutral flavor, nothing unique

-Definitely cream cheese, definitely not enough, definitely not that special

Overall Score: 3: I would return but only to try a different flavor and have another Red Velvet

-I am curious about how Red Velvet would taste on a different day, from a separate batch, and maybe at The Hummingbird Bakery I just located down the street.

Total: 17/26

As I left the bakery, I did notice a sign that said - American Cupcakes and Cakes in London. My stomach dropped for a second, as I thought that this was the explanation for the rare appearance of Red Velvet in a foreign city. But as I walked back up Portobello road, I overheard a conversation between two girls my age:

Girl 1: "Have you ever had Red Velvet?"
Girl 2: "No."
Girl 1: "Oh, you must. They are all over town, and divine."

London,  I have to say - this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.