Episode 12: Picnic in the Park (Plus Cooking Trial and Error!)

This was a good end to the weekend. Carlie, Chris and I went to St. Jame Park, near Buckingham Palace, and had a lovely picnic. I think it was the most food I'd eaten for lunch in a while. There were sandwiches, pineapple, chips, and Carlie and Chris had Oreos. Carlie was going to being some for me but she saw they had wheat and didn't want me to feel sick.

I was also going to bring a banana, but apparently our kitchen is not room temperature and when you store banana's in a warm room, they kind of fall apart when you pick them up. Chris let me have a bag of her Salt and Vinegar crisps (that's potato chips for all you in the States (yes, I am slowly converting to British, save yourselves)). Wow, those things have some bite to them.

Speaking of bite, there was a couple near us (well, behind me since we were sitting in a circle and I had my back to them) who were displaying major PDA. Like, a lot of French kissing and necking. Like three seconds from just throwing all sense of decorum out the window. I mean, I know Americans can be a little prudish (come on, it's true. We're not always comfortable with displays of sexuality. Mostly this is because our nation was founded in religious roots) but I think that was going a little too far by anyone's standards. Except the French. Maybe the couple was French.

After lunch we had seen this really awesome tree that looked perfect for climbing. So we went over and tried to climb it. Well, Carlie and I climbed it (even though Carlie was in a skirt and flats, so she didn't go up very high). Chris helped us take pictures and leaned against the tree for a couple pictures of us together.

I haven't climbed any tree since I was a kid, but I still managed to get kind of high up. Which was thrilling and frightening because I realized there was nothing under my foot and falling out of the tree would really hurt. Also, I have pretty much no upper body strength to speak of. Hopping up backwards onto a low limb: doable. Placing my arms on either side of a wedge and jumping after which I'm supposed to use my arms and momentum to lift myself into the tree: fail.

After the tree episode we walked down (well kind of across, over, down across a little more then straight) to Buckingham Palace. Which is pretty, but flooded with tourists. No, seriously, I'm not kidding about this. They're everywhere. Carlie said to me, "Wouldn't it be great if they shut the city down to tourists for one day so the Kingston students could go and take pictures?" Yes, this sounds a little egotistical, but a lot of the tourists don't have picture courtesy and end up walking through a shot just when you have it perfectly lined up and the hallelujah chorus is singing. Then in walks an tourist (usually just as you click the shutter) and the moment is dead.

Take the gate at Buckingham Palace for example. You want a picture in front of the gate, preferably without other people in the shot. The reasonable thing to do is create a queue and go one by one (or two or three, I'm not picky about how many from a group go up at a time), get your picture and move aside for the next person. As a bonus to this system, you can ask the person behind you in line to take the picture so the whole group can be in it.

However the reality is a swarm that partially obscures the gate and makes the pictures that much less epic (I will concede that the queue idea sort of was in action at one of the gates. But there wasn't really an order. More of "who can jump up before anyone else". Chris was a little too nice for this system (not necessarily a bad trait mind you, just counter-productive here). Also, some people didn't understand the principle of take the picture and move. They stood there looking at their picture and blocking other people's photos. Once more the hallelujah chorus crashes and burns)

We couldn't exactly take pictures with the grenadiers (guards with the awesome hats that obscure their vision) at the palace since they were all behind the gate. But we walked down a little ways and saw another pair of them you could get very close to and take pictures with them in the near background. Almost like taking a picture with them. Carlie and I got a picture together taken by one of a trio of British guys. This one shall be referred to a His Shirt Shrank.

His Shirt Shrank got his name from the razzing of his buddies about his shirt (which in all fairness did seem a little tight and small on him). He and his buddies Razzer 1 and Razzer 2 seemed to have been friends with one of the grenadiers, Illicit Smiler.* Illicit Smiler was seen talking with His Shirt Shrank, and Razzers 1 and 2, even letting out a smile as he walked towards them at one point. I'm betting Illicit Smiler was new.

His Shirt Shrank told Illicit Smiler to smile for the tourists. At which Carlie took great umbrage (okay, just kind of indignant, but not really, because hey, we are tourists) and said, "We're not tourists, we're students." To which His Shirt Shrank replied, "Same thing" with a laugh. But not really in a mean way.

Now, the weather for the picnic was perfect, not too hot, cloudy with a little sun and a nice breeze. So after Buckingham, we decided to walk over to Picadilly Circus, since I'd wanted to see it at least once and be able to say I've been there. However, we got a little lost. Well, not lost exactly, since we had a general idea of where we were headed, but just took a little longer to get there than anticipated. And it started raining.

If you have never heard me say this before, hear it now for you may hear it often, I do not like water touching me. I take showers mostly because I like to be clean more than I abhor moisture on my skin. So when I felt the rain, up went my umbrella (which I'd been savvy enough to pack. Yay me!(said like London in The Suite Life of Zack and Cody (yes I watch Disney Channel, don't scoff (wow, quadruple embedded phrase score)))) And since Picadilly Circus is entirely outside, we decided to call it a day and head for home.

Back in Surbiton (after the fastest train I've taken; No stops, yay!) we all needed to go to Sainsbury's, and we each had one sort of extraneous errand that was on the walk back. So we split up and decided to meet back at Sainsbury's and do our shopping together. My errand sent me to Boots Chemist (by the way, a chemist is a pharmacy, not some sort of mad scientist/drug dealer. Don't worry, my drugs are all legal ;)) to buy face wash, moisturizer, and a blow drier. Unfortunately, they didn't have the face wash I wanted, so I got a different one. Both of the products are approved for sensitive skin which should help my face issues. And I got a cheap, compact blow drier which should help the oily hair issue, at least a little.

Picked up aluminum foil and olive oil so I could make Asian Chicken Pasta for dinner and then walked with Carlie and Chris back to the dorm. Where I flopped upon my bed and tried not to move for a little while until my breathing felt regular again and my skin cooled down (why yes, I am a bit dramatic; why do you ask?). Then I went to make dinner. With interesting results.

First of all, our kitchen is actually rather hot to do any cooking in. Even with the window open, which only opens a crack. So I was really warm while cooking. Then I forgot that the cooking temps are in Celsius over here and nearly freaked out when the knob didn't go up to 350. I got online, googled what temp I needed and off we went on our cooking adventure.

Third problem came up almost immediately, though it was more an inconvenience than an issue. The chicken thighs I'd bought (pretty much the only small container I could find) had bones in it (and skin too I realized once I'd cooked it). Good thing I was planning on cutting up the chicken. Yes I'd have to work around the bones, but c'est la vie.

Next I had to mince garlic. By hand. Which is really hard and sticky. And I didn't get super small bits, bit it worked and I had roasted garlic chunks on my chicken. So I have the chicken ready and pop it in the over. I bring my little battery powered clock into the kitchen, since there is no timepiece anywhere and make a mental note of when to remove the chicken. Now for the noodles.

I get water in a pan and set it on the stove to boil. It does eventually and I try to open the bag of noodles. Note to self: next time cut the bag open with scissors. The bag bursts open and pasta flies everywhere. Luckily, it wasn't the majority of the bag and I have pasta to put in the pan. I even have half a bag or so leftover.

Now I get a little scared by the intensity of the roiling boil in the noodles. I've turned the temp down but still it bubbles and froths violently. I stir and blow my heart out making a note that when I make pasta at home, I want a large pan that won't easily bubble over. But gradually the froth subsides to a gentle bubble. I stir it gently, keeping a close eye on it, per Gluten Aisle Lady's directions (see Episode 10). Soon it looks done and I pour it in the colander.

But then I taste a noodle (always an important step) and the middle is still rather crunchy. I haven't turned the range off so I put water back in with the noodles (yes, I did not try to just cook them more as is. Go small bit of cooking logic) and set them back on the stove, waiting for the water to boil again and keeping a close eye on the state of the noodles. They get slightly sticky and mushy by the time I take them off, but they could have been much worse.

I look at the chicken and realize suddenly that even though they have three minutes left, I have not covered the pan with aluminum foil as per the directions (yes, I skipped and skimmed thinking I remembered it all). I pull the chicken out and praise my lucky stars that I made thighs. You can't overcook thighs. I scraped the garlic off, cut up the chicken and put it in with the pasta, along with a little olive oil to keep the noodles from sticking.

It didn't look pretty and I made a huge mess, but in the end, it was pretty tasty. I call this meal a win. And next time I think I may add broccoli to the mix so that I have a complete mini-meal in a bowl. Oh, and I have leftovers so I can eat this again tomorrow or another day when I'm back at the dorms in time for dinner.

Today's lesson: you can salvage any meal if you know basic cooking principles and keep a careful watch on everything. Ciao.

*Note, I mostly give these people names for my own amusement, not because they'll be recurring fixtures.