Side Trip....

Let’s take a brief respite from royal palaces in Scotland, and take a quick visit to one of our own.

Alert readers will remember that I have a long time friend living in DC who helps us spend our tax dollars by doing HR kind of stuff for the Government.  As such he does have some connections, and was able to secure a slot for a West Wing tour of the White House.  It’s not easy to do, but can be done.  Since the tours have to be conducted after (normal) business hours, ours was scheduled for eight thirty.

So, what are you going to do in DC to take up the time before that?  Why, of course you go to dinner!  So we planned dinner at six thirty, and then over to the WH for the tour.  Great plan. Since we wanted to be in the general vicinity, he offered the choice of Ceiba or Kinkead’s (the original one on Pennsylvania).  Although we have been to both, Kinkead’s has been the site of great meals, and we hadn’t been there in years, so we opted for that.  So up the road in Flutter Mobile II (a lovely car by the way) arrived at his digs, had a pleasant glass of wine and some tapenade toasts along with a nice little basil leaf stuffed with goat cheese, pine nuts, and home grown cherry tomato bits.  Quite nice. Refreshed, the four of us headed out to dinner and the tour.

I have always liked the space at Kinkead’s, the upstairs is composed of several nooks and crannies with tables and booths tucked here and there, which gives some sense of privacy. 

We were seated at a nice little table overlooking the avenue outside, and were presented with menus

Composed of a “traditional” side (where the signature pepita crusted salmon lives) and a Chef’s specials for the day kind of thing.  Sit down, server arrives with menus and the wine list, and asked if we would like tap or bottled water (tap is fine), and would we care for anything else while we were looking at the menu.  Since I wasn’t driving I levied the drink test and asked for a DMOTRWAT.  It arrived and had the tell tale red hue (see glass above menu), so I asked about dry Vermouth and was told that it was NO vermouth but with bitters.  In the spirit (ha ha) of things I accepted it.  Since we were sort of on the clock, we got down to business ..  Starters included two “Salad of Soft Lettuces with Gruyere, Scallions, and Dijon Dressing”, an heirloom tomato salad and I went with the mussels described above (and risking the front of my shirt).  In honor of the bivalves I also ordered a glass of Sancerre.  Entrees were two of the “simply grilled salmon”  MFO who ordered before me took my thought of  the special seared scallops, (with English peas) so I diverted and went with the soft shells (partially described above).  Bread, butter, and conversation filled the gap and before long the first courses arrived (served to ladies first with the proper order, no “who had the…” here).   In my dottage, I am getting less self conscious about shooting the food with my little point and shoot (which is good and bad), but try to be discreet so the composition is not always magazine quality..

the mussels were in a wonderful broth with the little aioli lathered toasts soaking it up and the shell fish were meaty and very tasty, and all stayed off my shirt by the way, almost a first.

Everybody else enjoyed their salads which were very pretty. And with just the right timing, the main courses arrived..

As you can see the scallops and salmon were lovely.   And here are my Soft Shells.

Soft Shells are always an enigma with me.  They seem to vary widely in size and taste. To be (as I always try to be) objective and honest, I was not thrilled with the dish.  I appreciate the presentation that made it look like a crest, but I don’t think the drizzles were called for, and the color of the sauce (I think it was a porcini reduction of some sort) didn’t do much for the overall effect.  The little relish of Tasso, crawfish, and haricot ragu, was very, very good and kind of stole the plate.   The soft shells were a little short on content and taste, but up against the ragu they may have been fighting a losing battle.  It wasn’t a bad dish, but could have been better.  I tried the other dishes and they were all very good.  As I said, if you order soft shells you’re kind of rolling the dice.

We did squeeze in dessert, with ice cream for the three others and I went with a chocolate mousse

which was to die for. It doesn't show so well, but that is a little gold leaf on top.

All in all, it was a great dinner.  Service was impeccable, and as I say it is a very comfortable space.  Please go, but maybe think twice about ordering softshells..

So, okay off to the White House. We waited for our friend's “guide” for a bit outside the gate across from the (poor) Corcoran, and eventually he came.  We surrendered our picture ID’s and he checked us in with the first set guards in the little white block house with computers, were issued some badges, went through the second level of security where once again thoughtless old me had to surrender my little Swiss Army Knife to the nice guards (actually they were very pleasant).  We were then led on a magical tour of the West Wing.  It is like a history museum with lovely antiques, paintings, and furniture everywhere.  It is like a modern day palace and it all celebrates the history of our country.  It may not go back centuries, but none the less you can’t help but feel a sense of pride.  We saw the door to the famous “situation room”; also that room you see on TV with the long table and many seats (smaller than you might think); and were able to look into the actual Oval Office.  There it was.  Right there.  And while we were there our guide said “that sounds like Marine One!”  Sure enough, the President was arriving by helo outside the rose garden.  Apparently he must not have known I was there because he didn’t stop by to say hello.  But soon people appeared walking the halls draped with laptop bags, briefcases, iPads, looking like they were in a hurry.  At one point a gentleman appeared from a side hall, and we almost collided.  After he went on his way, our guide said, “oh, that was Jay Carney”.  The presidential Press Secretary!  At least I didn’t trip him.  Others going by were identified (he knew them all) as senior advisor for this, chair of that (too many for me to remember).  Of course no pictures are allowed until you get to the room where the press conferences are held.  This should look familiar

(Okay, I'll take questions from the floor....)

Our guide (his day job is in the office of the council to the president – he’s an attorney) knew the other “guides” showing people around and he had interesting stories about running into the president in the hall, or through some door. There is just kind of an energy about the place.  Camelot.

Finally we had to leave and were treated to a nice sight in our Nation’s Capitol.

A wonderful evening not long forgotten.  And as you can tell I was

DFD

Scottish Retrospective, one of ????

Prelude…

You may have noticed a paucity of posts since we returned from Scotland last Friday (is it Wednesday already?).  There are reasons, like unsuspected jet lag (why am I so tired all the time?); the lingering effects of the “bus crud” which was the cold we all shared on the tour bus; the letdown of being “home” after a time away (both physically and mentally); and the general depression of picking up daily life once again.  Anything to go in the wash? What time was that meeting?  We have to be where, when? 

Even now, many days later, the body is still (reluctantly?) recovering from the rigors of travel (baggage, security, Cattle Car Airlines). When you’re “doing” the trip, you’re just sort of in a data taking mode: look at that castle, who lived there?  When?  Be back on the bus at what time?  Where’s that ATM? Did we get a souvenir for ……?  But that wonderful commodity, “time”, begins to dull those things and other memories start to creep in, sometimes unexpectedly.   Poof!   Flash to the Island of Iona, where St. Columba walked in the late 6^th Century!  While nothing survived from that time, there are a few more modern buildings still standing.

And, oh yeah, remember that lovely BLT we had for lunch there?

(Scottish bacon is to die for)

Not to go into travelogue mode, but just an illustration of how things start coming back to you and you begin to realize what a wonderful place you were in.  Or, you remember standing in the actual room where Mary Queen of Scots witnessed the stabbing of her close companion (most likely at the hands of a jealous husband).  You can read about those things, but to actually BE there brings a new perspective.

Scotland is a fascinating place.  It’s really almost two different countries, split diagonally by the series of Loch’s from Inverness down to Oban, north of which is referred to as the “highlands” with the “lowlands” to the south.  We did both, but it is hard not to love the mountains of the highlands.

Culturally they are also two different places.  I won’t even attempt to go into the history; it is as confusing and convoluted as Ireland.  People were continually hacking up other people for reasons of land, religion, clan affiliation, loyalties to kings or parliaments, with England of course a major player in the situation.  One can see why they built those massive castles..  life was tough, short, and often violent.  It was so helpful that our tour included a historian (or two) who helped us sort this stuff out..

so enough generalities... we'll go into more specifics on places and foods, where you could consider

DFD

Home Sweat Home...

Sigh...

Our last day in the UK/Scotland began in Edinburgh with a ungodly 5 am call for bags in the hall (with a bus time of 0600).  As you probably know, the European model is that you get to the hotel, get off the coach/bus, check in and go to your room, and (mostly) sooner or (less common) later the nice porter brings your bag(s).  Maybe because a lot of the older places have no elevators.  Anyway, our plane was to leave from Glasgow, hence the early call for bags and leaving.   We chose to put them out the night before, so we could “sleep in” until 5:30.  So a bunch of bleary eyed travelers boarded the coach for the last time and off we went to Glasgow and home.

The coach park was quite a distance from the entrance to the terminal so we had to schlep the bags (now weighed down by purchases  made in country).  Then get in a long line, out with passports, no, nobody gave us anything, yes we packed the bags ourselves, no they haven’t been out of our sight, okay pass through.  Finally checked the bags to DCA followed by another quarter of a mile walk to security.  Remind me to wear elastic pants next time, as removal of my belt just about results in removal of pants, so to prevent that, it occupies one hand.   I did have the foresight to wear the Crocs, which are not only comfortable but easily removed for the dear humorless security folk. After redressing and gathering we headed for the gate (again decades of gates from us), and guess what?  To get there you have to walk through a seemingly endless series of “duty free” shops urging you to purchase perfumes, liquors, clothing, accessories, etc.  We finally arrived at the gate, and still had about an hour to kill before boarding.  Eventually we stuffed ourselves into our center and aisle seats, with MFO feeling pretty puny by now.  A last minute arrival filled the open window seat dashing our hopes of spreading out.  She was a lovely young lady, and when she learned MFO was not feeling well (as evidenced by coughing spells and many tissues used) she asked the attendant if she could find another seat so MFO could have more space.  I really think she did this out of sympathy, not fear of infection.  Another seat was found so she did the best she could to spread out and snooze a little. 

We settled in for the 6 hour 58 minute flight “over to Philadelphia” according to the flight deck.  I got out my own little ear buds (that worked in one ear on the way over), but all I got was static.  Eventually I asked the attendant and she fiddled with it with no results, and she even slipped me the five dollar version from the airline and it still didn’t work. Apparently I was not alone. So instead of being able to listen to classical music, I tried not to stare at the silent TV screen above.

Again USAir felt that food should precede drink by at least 20 minutes as I watched the cart creep toward us from the front of the jet.  Was offered the choice of pasta or chicken and given the crap that served for chicken previously, I chose the pasta and was served a plastic enclosed lunch

Of what may have been ravioli filled with some indescribable “stuff” and orbs of cheese (not bad) and cherry tomoatoes of uncertain texture. MFO found her little pouch contained a special tool

After suffering through some movie (it’s like a train wreck, you don’t want to watch, but you can’t help it) that I think was about wrestling and other "selected shorts, we finally reached the Philadelphia airport.  During the stand around waiting for the other people to depart the aircraft, we chatted with the nice attendant who gave me the earphones (which never did work), and she asked “where are you headed?”.  Said we were headed for a little town south of DC in Maryland.  Which one?  You probably never heard of it, it’s called Lexington Park.  Oh yes I have, I went to Town Creek Elementary School!  For non local readers, that is approximately two miles (by road) from the house (and a quarter by water).  Amazing.  Her father went through Test Pilot school here.  You just never know..Small world.  Finally we gathered our carryons and exited the plane to the terminal.

What followed was a walking tour that would have done justice to any downtown tourist trek.  Because we were international we had to retrieve bags, which involved a very long walk to the carousel, then what seemed like retracing our steps with the heavy bags to customs, and rechecking them on to DCA.  Because we somehow left the “secure area” we had to once again go through security.  One handed again (narrowly avoiding unintentional disrobing), and finally we were able to look for our gate for the short flight over to DCA which turned out to be in Terminal F (we were in A).  Oh, terminal F?  you need to take the shuttle sir!  And where is that?  Gate A1.  Fine.  We noticed we were approximately at gate A573 so once again we hiked past of what seemed miles of blank walls we reached A1 and the little bus.  Upon opening the door to board, we were smacked in the face by what seemed like a wave of hot bath water.  Temps and humidities were paired nicely in the nineties, a far cry from what we experienced in Scotland, at least a 30 degree step in both.  Disgorged at the F terminal, we were mercifully only a few gates from F19 our departure gate for DCA.  This was about two thirty or so and our commuter jaunt was to be at three forty.

What followed was a unbelievable display of the most inept handling of a flight and gate I have ever seen.  Despite the fact that all 29 of our remaining group (some stayed, some were going to Wisconsin) had confirmed seats, we were told that due to the amount of dead heading crew, not all would be able to board. Our leader went ballistic.  I can’t begin to describe what turned out to be delays that resulted in taking off at five, with all of our group and 4 empty seats (and six employees).   One poor family from Sweden that thought they were going along was left at the gate.  They said they didn’t understand and our dear little overwhelmed gate agent said something like “it’s just the way it is”.  Fortunately our tour director took time to explain to them that there was another flight in (now) about twenty minutes and they would be on that.  The USAir people kept spouting stuff about “rules and regulations” totally unsympathetic to real people.  thank you so much.

We finally arrived at DCA, retrieved bags and were bussed to our waiting cars in Mechanicsville, and the MOMSTER took us home and the stifling heat and humidity.  Despite the late hour and exhausted and battered body from hours in fetal position on the airplane, I celebrated the end of our journey with a DMOTRWAT and a resolution to never darken Philadelphia airport or give USAir any money to be treated like cattle..(except for the Town Creek lady who was nice), and raised the glass to the nice young woman who gave MFO her seat which was beneficial to her health..

There remains a lot of stories to tell of Scotland, its food, people and culture.  I’ll relate some of them over the next few days.  Meanwhile we’ll get the travel waves out of the brain and return to the “real” life that was suspended by a lovely ten days in a wonderful country, rich with history, relics of time past

And breathtaking scenery

We’ll leave food for future editions

DFD

Extra Rant Unrelated to Scotland – Sports “fans” only…

Yesterday was spent huddling in the air conditioning trying to deny the outside conditions, and of course I tuned into the Olympics.  The first thing I saw was the final of a basketball game between Russia and Spain.  It was a close game coming right down to the end.  But, the announcers treated it as just a preliminary to the "USA" game.  They then proceede to wax eloquent about the previous game with Nigeria.  “A spectacular display of basketball!”  “record breaking performance!” Apparently the "USA" team rolled up an astonishing 156 points, winning by some 80 points against an obviously overmatched Nigerian team, giddly recounting how many points LeBron, and “Mello” made showing clips of multiple uncontested threes (kind of like shooting practice).  Lauding the "magnificant performance" of the “USA Team”.   Great basketball!!  Maybe they can find an elementary school team to play and get even more points! Last I checked, the team is made up of the same spoiled, egotistical NBA players that only care about how much money they make, creating circuses out of their signing, selling their talents to the highest bidder, or demanding to be traded where THEY want to go, making sure they make one more dollar than the next guy.  Well guess what LeBron (et. al), I don’t think you represent anything more than yourself, and your values don’t reflect true America, and you certainly don’t represent me.  Have fun.

last supper...

had to be haggis!! on the plane tomorrow at an ungodly hour...

with red cabbage, tatties and neeps Daphinoise, and whisky sauce.  Most of the other folk are doing the Royal Tattoo tonight, but we're hunkering. MFO is still coughing and hankering..

see you in the USA!

Golfer Quiz..



If you carry clubs or follow golf, you HAVE to know where this is...

and here he is..(with no tee time)

and for extra credit, who is buried here??



He and his son are buried in the remains of this old cathedral..





we did a tour of the city, saw the course and then moved on to Edinburgh where we reside tonight.  We are both kind of succumbing to the weather and schedule and have the first indications of a cold (excuse me while i blow my nose and cough a moment.).  So, tonight we're staying in.

Tomorrow night will be our last night in scotland, and maybe this will be the last pos from heret.  we will see.  there are lots of more things i want to say about the place, the people and the food.... but it will all be good at a later date.  I have about 900 photos in the bank..

and i guess tonight we won't be having to

DFD

PS we get the olympic coverage through the BBC, which, from what I hear is better than NBC.  at least it's live here..