Brighton, Bert's, Bill's, and The Lost Boys

Yeah, okay, so...I didn't really find any audio books that 'felt right' for my road trip at the library yesterday, but I * did * check out a pasta, pizza, and polenta cookbook (I know, right, like I need to find more ways to gain weight other than sitting at the computer all day?). But come ON. It's pasta, pizza, and polenta! What more could a girl ask for? * nudging the scale out of sight *

Today, however, I am earning the triple-p's because I have so many errands to run that at LEAST a zillion miles will be covered by foot. Maybe more. And then tonight I'm having JAPANESE for dinner, which we all know is about as healthy as you can get, as evidenced by one, the size of the average japenese person, and two, the abundance of raw fish on the menu. * Pretending not to see all the tempura and noodles *

Omigosh, speaking of amazing Japanese places: check out this place I went to on my last trip to Brighton. It was recommended to me by several locals (yes, I am not above stopping people on the street for food recommendations) as 'huge portions for super cheap. And it's GOOD.' I was lucky enough to nab a table on the sidewalk (it was a warm and sunny weekend, how lucky was I??), although eventually, due to the massive, un-ending line out the door, ended up with two strangers sitting with me. And they--in all their dreadlocked glory--were totally cool. They too kept going on about how great the value was. It was like a Brighton-wide pavlovian response: you say 'Pompoko' to ANYONE, and they immediately say the words 'So big! And cheap!' In fact, I dare you to test this. A bowl of noodles says I win. And all reports were true: I got a huge bowl of chicken katsu with a poached egg and so many noodles that I couldn't even get CLOSE to finishing them, all for £5.

I just realized when digging through my Brighton folder to find this picture that I never posted any Brighton pics! (And I have another 500 Cornish ones to go through, but we won't talk about that now.) So here we go! Forgive me in advance for the very food-centric nature of the below. My trip was definitely an exercise to test my stomach's capacity. You will be pleased to know it did very well. * patting it proudly *

Where I had lunch the Friday I arrived...

It's both good and bad that the walk to my b & b required me to go past Bert's Homestore fifteen times a day...although this time I DID manage to abstain from any buying. Mostly by forbidding myself to go in any further than the doorway.

Ahhhh...the Maison Mascara. My home away from home.

And the reason I stay at the Maison every time I go to Brighton. I was in that tub with bubbles up to my ears at least four times a day, not gonna lie. I watched late night t.v. from it, I read from it, I drank coffee from it...I'm lucky I even left my room.

And don't let me forget to mention the newest perk of the Maison: breakfast in bed! You check off a little menu when you arrive telling them what you want and when you want it, and ta-da! A tiny little knock at your door the next morning, and breakfast is served! I barely had to leave the tub.

Plus right down the street from the Maison is Uncle Sam's, the best burgers in England, I kid you not. They're like a cross between In-and-Out and Sonic (please, stop for a moment and salivate with me), and you could easily toss back at least two. I hear. There's no seating--it's just an ordering counter in a tiny pink space the size of a closet--but with the beach at the end of the block, you wouldn't stick around, anyway.

You won't believe it: this was also the weekend of the Brighton Food and Drink Festival! I KNOW! I couldn't have planned it any better...

But of course the ENTIRE weekend wasn't about food...

Shopping in The Lanes.

Shopping on the beach.

Shopping in the North Lanes.

And another lunch (please don't count how many lunches I had in a 3-day time period) at Bill's Produce Store! You will be pleased to note that they still had the peppered steak sandwich on the menu, although it wasn't served on the onion foccaccia, which was a bit disappointing. So then I requested regular focaccia, which they were willing to do, except oops! It's 3:00. All out of focaccia. And every other bread on the menu except for sourdough and granary. Bill, how DARE you make your bread fresh each day and then run out. What kind of operation is this?? I'm kidding, Bill. I love you. But next time put some aside for me or there's going to be weirdness between us.

And miscellaneous photos:

For more Brighton photos, go here. You'll see some fantastic graffiti and the Brighton Pier amusement park by night. Which was scary. I don't know if it was the gusts of wind swaying the dock every five minutes, or the fact that there were only ten of us in the entire park, or just residual scarring from watching The Lost Boys recently, but...yeah. Terrifying. You have to go there.

Another Brighton recommendation

A long overdue return trip to Brighton was last weekend's pleasure...this time with personal recommendations a la Isabel, a fanciful girl who used to live there and knew the ins and outs of the shopping, eating, and shopping. Armed with the list she gave me, this Brighton itinerary expanded to include The Lavender Room, Cath Kidston, One in the House, and Bert's Homestore. None of these shops was a disappointment and it took all of my restraint not to blow my bank on the goodies inside. (Please note: I would have photographed each of these shops, except the weather was roughly thirty degrees below zero and I couldn't get my frozen fingertips to grip the camera, let alone operate the tiny dials.)

I did, however, photograph Bill's Produce Store, yum incarnate. The walls were lined with produce for purchase, and if the brunch I ordered was any indication of their quality, then I think little on the shelves would disappoint.

This was my eggs benedict. Please note the sumptuous bread, the thick slices of ham, and the about-to-explode poached eggs...the whole thing was absolutely taste-tastic. I can't wait for my next visit so I can return for their peppered steak sandwich, served on housemade onion foccacia with horseradish and mustard creme fraiche. Brighton hooooooooooooooooo!

Brighton HOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I'm off for a day trip to Brighton! Everyone tells me it's 'just like San Francisco,' and by that I think they mean 'super gay and coastal.' So in the spirit of enterprise and homesickness, I'm heading that way! I can't wait to see the ocean again...I'm going to LICK it, I'm so excited.

What's in a name?

Okay, so this London blog launch is LONG overdue. But the delay came with the name, of course. I battled for the perfect title for days, trying out a thousand variants on a handful of themes, as though I thought if my title were just one iota off of Ridiculously Profound, my readership would plummet. Because it would, of course. It even got to the point where I almost performed an animal sacrifice to the google gods as a plea to PLEASE free up all the blog names not used since, say, 2001, which in blog years is like, prenatal. Because all the truly good blog ideas (read: Lizzie's) were taken, and most had not been posted to since the days you clicked F12 to print.

But then one evening an epiphany hit.

I was drifting off to sleep when the beginning of 'Howl' entered my head. Please note this is not a normal occurrence, and usually only happens when I am starving hysterical naked and have been dragging through the negro streets. Which is only, like, once a month. But here is the direction my mind went when given complete pre-sleep freedom:

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
     madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
     looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
     connection to the starry dynamo in the machin-
     ery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
     up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
     cold-water flats floating across the tops of
     cities contemplating jazz

This entire thing did not go through my head, mind you, as knowing all of the above by heart would put me in the category of beat-worship and I draw the line at trying to reproduce the madness. But the first line, sure. Then my mind naturally proceeded to 'Footnote,' as one cannot have Howl without the Footnote to Howl, and I wondered if London was holy. And then I knew: 'Footnote' was my name. And I fell asleep.

Upon waking the next day, I raced to the laptop (and by 'raced,' I mean, 'read my book in the bathroom for a while, then went downstairs, then made coffee, then washed the previous night's dishes, then wiped off the counters, then rearranged my daisies, then pet the kitty'). I then got online and typed in 'Footnote dot blogspot.' Taken. Naturally. But this one--London Footnotes dot blogspot--was not. And so it was mine.

I feel like this year's blog is going to be a footnote in every possible interpretation: from the literal breakdown--'notes taken while on foot,' to the denotative definition of 'a minor or tangential comment or event added or subordinated to a main statement or more important event.' My posts, of course, being the 'minor tangential comment' to the greater statement that is London.

And so we have it: my London blog. Cheers!