The Food Confessional

I’ve been out all afternoon. East Finchley in London is holding its annual “Open House” this and next weekend for local artists to exhibit and sell their work from their homes (more about this event here). James and his wife Claudia, who some of you know, invited both Paola and me to go with them, but due to her imminent move, Paola wasn’t able to make it. At 1pm, just before I left for the Gardiner residence, I realised I needed to eat, so gulped down the only quick thing I had in my fridge — a tub of cottage cheese (and this time, Sylvia, had no trouble polishing it off!!).

I should have taken my pedometer as we did a fair bit of walking between venues, although due to poor weather, we did drive between some of the further flung ones too. Some of the work we saw was stunning — I wish I could have afforded to buy one or two small things.

With all that walking, we worked up quite an appetite, so went for a lovely meal in a Turkish restaurant in Central Finchley. Despite a lot of tasty-looking dishes being delivered for starters, I just stuck to some rather delicious, warm bread. The main course looked huge, but I did finish it and it was yummy! Eating out, I didn’t want to leave anything on my plate, but I did feel full halfway through the second chicken shish.

Doggy bags aren’t too common here — if we had a similar culture to the Americans on this, I definitely would have left it and asked for it to be boxed. But here, restaurants aren’t as prepared for it, and I don’t like to “make a fuss”. I’m interested in the experience of others in this and whether they feel comfortable asking for uneaten food to be bagged up.