London - British Isles

It's no secret that my best friend, Missy and I love to travel. We met 25 years ago in the parking lot of a Winn Dixie grocery store in Valdosta, Georgia. I was in college there and she was home on Spring Break from Pepperdine in Malibu, CA. I thought she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen and never imagined that we'd grow up together and travel the world.

She put a damper on that for a few years when she got married and had 3 boys back to back. But I think we've pretty much made up for that in the last 6 months as we have been to Italy, Tuscany, Rome, the island of Capri, Spain, the South of France, Nice and Monaco. Tunisia is in Northern Africa. I hated it, she loved it. We spent a week in Paris in December, with 5 of our best girlfriends in a rented apartment on the Seine.

Since (finally) it has been discovered that the fat in beef – oleic acid – is the same heart healthy fat that is found in olive oil, and since fat in beef actually decreases heart-disease risk (something about the ratio of good and bad cholesterol), and if you are not devouring sugars, a good, fatty steak is a good thing! Yes!

While it is still a bit hard to believe, it does make eating steak a bit more of a righteous thrill. And, I have found just the place to indulge in all things beefy! No, not in Peter Luger’s, not even in the stockyards of Fort Worth but at Hawksmoor, in the old Combe’s brewery in the heart of Covent Garden.

Covent Garden? London?? Oh Yes, and if you also like anything British with the word “sticky” in front of it, this cavernous, un-pretentious but friendly brew house is worth a destination journey. It is also quite possible that a corner table might host one of the West End’s glittering stars dining incognito. It’s that kind of place.

There were three of us devouring the menu like children: Ooooh Tamworth Belly Ribs, Oooooh Bone Marrow with Onions, Yum, Roast Scallops with White Port and garlic, Potted Beef and Bacon with Yorkshires… (Oooooo Yum)

One of my favorite bites of 2009 was a bit of a trek, which is most unfortunate because if I lived nearby I would be a regular. I'd eat there so often they'd probably have to name a table after me. The last time I was there I ate the perfect meal and as simple as it sounds, it's impossible to replicate. Scenery and location are always a bonus and The Smuggler's Speciality Restaurant could qualify for a memorable meal for those reasons alone.

"Smuggler's" as the locals call it, is in Waterville, Ireland at the end of the Ring of Kerry. It's not fancy, inside or out, but it doesn't need to be. It sits on Balliskelligs Bay where the mountains meet the sea and every table has a view. I had been there many years ago and when my best friend Missy and I decided to drive the countryside of western Ireland for a week in September, Smuggler's immediately came to mind. I love their logo "The fish is only fresher if it's in the sea." And I love the directions they give on their website, "One mile from Waterville on a sandy beach."

Can we talk about how strange a yoga class in London is?  Stretch out your kidneys, she kept saying.  Elongate your kidneys.  Her British accent easing me from one pose to another…but…kidneys?  Really?  I don’t even know where my kidneys are.  Honestly, I know they’re somewhere in my torso region but to the point where I could isolate them into a stretch.  It was really strange. 

And it got me thinking about other body parts that in my opinion have nothing to do with yoga.  Like my esophagus.  And my appendix.  And, well, my stomach.  Was it grumbling?  Or was I distracted?  By the time we got out and started wandering around Primrose Hill, the gray sky somehow bright and exciting like I wouldn’t mind if it started raining, by that time my stomach definitely was growling.  I’m still not sure what my kidneys were doing but I was hungry.  And it had to be breakfast