A Brief InterruptionBefore resuming my account of my vacation, I need to brag about one thing: I just made dinner, and it was not only edible, but ridiculously delicious. When my mom gets back from California, I’m definitely trying this recipe again as a late Mother’s Day dinner.
Salmon with Lentils and Mustard-Herb Butter. Cook it, eat it, love it. Seriously, if I can cook it,
anyone can cook it. I’m not an outright disaster in the kitchen – I’ve never set anything on fire, blown anything up, set off the smoke detector, or given anyone food poisoning – but I don’t generally have the skills to cook for anyone but me (given that I’m used to my own mediocre cooking and all), so it’s really nice to find something that I won’t ruin. I think the leeks are what make it amazing. Or maybe the herb-butter. I don’t know, but the combination of flavors is incredible.
Now that this advertisement for Epicurious is over, we return to our regularly scheduled program.

Trinity College (I think)Is that rubbish? I collect rubbish.Thursday was my second full day in Oxford, and I did not know how to dress. Jess and I were doing tea at the Randolph (the hotel I’d given some poor tourist bad directions to the previous day), which indicated my cute berry-colored pencil skirt and black pumps were called for. However, we were also starting with Jessica’s walking tour, which meant comfy shoes (which were my sneakers) were also called for. Since I value fashion over comfort, I went with the cute little H&M skirt and skinny heeled shoes. I put the last of my Band-Aids on my fledgling blisters and decided I’d be fine. Nothing quite like starting the day with A Very Stupid Decision.
The walking tour was lovely in spite of my bad footwear decision. Jessica showed me some of the other colleges in Oxford. Trinity College is pictured above.
New College (below) is lovely, and also one of the oldest colleges. It is surrounded by the old city walls. The chapel is absolutely gorgeous. It’s a pity my pictures came out so terrible, but the statues are very impressive. Jess and I snuck in, not quite sure if we were allowed in there, and the older man who was sweeping the entryway said we could go in, and I took the picture below.
“Is that rubbish?” the man asked Jessica on our way out, gesturing at her to-go coffee cup.
We looked at him blankly, not sure if we were being lectured or not.
“Is that rubbish?” he repeated. “I collect rubbish.”
“Thanks,” Jessica said, handing him her empty cup.
Not lecturing us. Just the cutest little man to ever sweep the chapel.

The wall of Oxford and entrance to New College
The chapel of New College a bit blurred
Courtyard of New College, used in the Harry Potter films
Jessica in New College making her “Draco face” (I don’t get it)
Me in New CollegeJessica took me into an old cemetery. My emotional state alternated between fascination (for reasons I cannot explain, I’ve always found cemeteries to be both peaceful and beautiful) and annoyance (the ground was damp and my heels wanted to stick in it).

Cemetery gateAfter the cemetery, Jessica tried (and failed) to get me into the library, so we took a rest in the Divinity School (also used as in the Harry Potter movies and pictured below) and I realized my feet were making me very crabby. I’m-surprised-Jess-hasn’t-fled-in-the-opposite-direction sort of crabby. It was there I noticed my shoes were in an awful state due to the cemetery so we went into Blackwells so I could clean my shoes off.
It was in the bathroom that I realized just how bad my feet really were. When I took my shoe off, I wondering why my tights seemed discolored at the foot. After the floor became discolored too, it became clear what the problem was: My feet were bleeding in spite of the four Band-Aids I put on that morning. Brilliant. Just brilliant.
And so Jess and I parted ways, so I could take care of my feet before tea at the Randolph later that day.

The Divinity SchoolThe Randolph HotelIf you ever find yourself in Oxford, tea at the Randolph is a must. A must, I tell you. But make reservations. Jess and I got in by sheer luck. If the two girls just behind us had beat us into the hotel, we would have either cancelled tea or moved it to Friday. Also, having the scones is another must. They really do taste better in England. Probably because they serve them with jam and clotted cream.
SCONES. SCONES. SCONES. SCONES. SCONES.
Yes, they really are THAT good.

Shrine to the Inklings, the Eagle and ChildThe Eagle and ChildWhen I first decided to go to Oxford and visit Jess, the first thing I knew was that I had to visit the Eagle and Child, which was the favorite hangout of the Inklings, J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis’s literary group. Throughout my visit, I walked past this little pub several times, and each time I passed it, I had a thrill of the “Omigod I’m in England, and people who have actually written things worth reading have lived here!” variety. I make a
fabulous tourist where books and writers are concerned, not so much where movie stars are concerned. (On my first LA trip, my sister tried to get me excited about the Hollywood Walk of Fame and taking pictures in front of the Hollywood sign. I suspect I was a huge disappointment to her, as my reaction was of the, “That’s great. Can we have lunch now?” sort.) To return back to my point after that long ramble, Oxford, of course, is a wonderful city for book lovers.
Another England goal of mine was to have fish and chips. I have been told that in the US we don’t have
real fish and chips. It was
Allie, actually, who informed me of this sad fact. Once, many years ago, on our writing group’s site, I’d mentioned that I had no fondness for fish and chips, and she’d replied that she’d had what the US calls fish and chips and it just wasn’t what fish and chips was supposed to be. I figured if the New Zealanders are horrified by our horrid fish and chips, then the English must be much more appalled. And fish and chips, much like scones, taste better in England, though not enough to merit all caps.
I went to England, assuming the food would be terrible, as that’s something every American that has ever been to England claims. Yet my experience was the opposite. I loved everything I ate there. This might be because I am a pescetarian, so no one was trying to feed me organ meats, but really, everything was tasty. Well, with one notable exception: mushy peas. To clarify, mushy peas are not merely overcooked peas; they are mashed peas. They serve them with fish and chips and they are this hideous green sludge on your plate, sloshing over your chips and your fish. England! Why do you mash your peas? Has no one told you this is disgusting?
Back to the pub, the Eagle and Child is charming. Not the quaintest pub in Oxford, but it’s quite lovely. And they serve tasty fish and chips if you can get past the mushy peas. While looking at the menu, I pointed out to Jessica that they had a brie and cranberry sandwich on their menu, as that struck me as The Best Idea Ever. “That’s really common here,” Jess said dismissively, as if the abundance of such sandwiches made them any less The Best Idea Ever. (No, it just made them ridiculously convenient.)
I can’t say I developed any brilliant ideas for fantasy novels while in the Eagle and Child, as the Inklings inspiration seems to have worn off over the years, but that’s just as well, as I’ve learned that I have zero ability to write in that particular genre. I was happy to just to have dinner in that pub and that the day, as a whole, was a thoroughly English day.
(And I'm still welcoming thoughts on bicycles on yesterday's post.)