A few years back, when my husband and I decided to travel to Europe together for the first time, we started our journey in London, England. Grand architecture, gleaming gold statues of historical figures and a bustling city with a myriad of accents greeted us. We indulged our fish and chip hankering, wondered at the marvels at the TATE Modern Museum and traversed the Thames a few times in our quest to fit in as much as humanly possible in three short days.
Travelling on the Canadian dollar can make London seem a little steep (or “dear” as locals like to say), but every once in a while, you just have to stop the calculator in your brain from converting every pound and live a little. With this spirit in mind, we found ourselves at the hallowed halls of Harrods- that stately purveyor of fine goods that has some of the most impressive “food halls” I’ve ever laid eyes on.
We pass the high-end cosmetics and perfume counters and made a B-line for the abundant showcases of gorgeously prepared and fresh foods. It’s there that I spot a woman clad in black- from head to toe. A black skull and cross bone bandana worn over long raven tresses, sunglasses, leather jacket and yes, black velour track pants proclaiming “Juicy” across her backside. I look carefully from behind a mountain of tropical fruit at her chiseled features and I think “I’ve seen that face before.” It isn’t until we wait to be served at the deli counter (Mario spots game Biltong- a dried, jerky type of meat from South Africa that he loves) that I realize I’m standing next to Cher!
So much for being incognito- everyone and their butler soon realizes it’s her although no one says a word about it- that would be gauche. Once Cher’s 500 grams of green peppercorn German salami has been thinly sliced, packed and handed to her, she makes her way to the check-out and into the next food hall - perhaps to an awaiting limo.
I wonder what she’ll do with the various kinds of salami she’s purchased (must have been 7 or 8 kinds)? Mario and I imagine it’s for canapés or an appetizer platter for an informal get together at her London-based pied-à-terre in some tony St. Johns Wood address. We laugh at our folly, pick up a few treats of our own and join the post-work crowds filling up the streets. We find a quiet park bench a short walk away and dig into our impromptu picnic. It’s no high end pied-à-terre, there aren’t any celeb pals to feast with, but to us, under the canopy of an old oak tree, it feels like we’ve won a lottery!
Travelling on the Canadian dollar can make London seem a little steep (or “dear” as locals like to say), but every once in a while, you just have to stop the calculator in your brain from converting every pound and live a little. With this spirit in mind, we found ourselves at the hallowed halls of Harrods- that stately purveyor of fine goods that has some of the most impressive “food halls” I’ve ever laid eyes on.
We pass the high-end cosmetics and perfume counters and made a B-line for the abundant showcases of gorgeously prepared and fresh foods. It’s there that I spot a woman clad in black- from head to toe. A black skull and cross bone bandana worn over long raven tresses, sunglasses, leather jacket and yes, black velour track pants proclaiming “Juicy” across her backside. I look carefully from behind a mountain of tropical fruit at her chiseled features and I think “I’ve seen that face before.” It isn’t until we wait to be served at the deli counter (Mario spots game Biltong- a dried, jerky type of meat from South Africa that he loves) that I realize I’m standing next to Cher!
So much for being incognito- everyone and their butler soon realizes it’s her although no one says a word about it- that would be gauche. Once Cher’s 500 grams of green peppercorn German salami has been thinly sliced, packed and handed to her, she makes her way to the check-out and into the next food hall - perhaps to an awaiting limo.
I wonder what she’ll do with the various kinds of salami she’s purchased (must have been 7 or 8 kinds)? Mario and I imagine it’s for canapés or an appetizer platter for an informal get together at her London-based pied-à-terre in some tony St. Johns Wood address. We laugh at our folly, pick up a few treats of our own and join the post-work crowds filling up the streets. We find a quiet park bench a short walk away and dig into our impromptu picnic. It’s no high end pied-à-terre, there aren’t any celeb pals to feast with, but to us, under the canopy of an old oak tree, it feels like we’ve won a lottery!
One of my favorite ways to eat in a new city, celebs or not!
ReplyDeleteLoved your post Mary Luz, very "close encounters of the Celeb kind!"
ReplyDeleteHaven't been to London yet - will check out the food halls at Harrod's when I get round to going there!