This past week I had the chance to revisit London, ostensibly to support a conference for work. Of course, I figured out how to make the most of my limited time in town (and am now embarking for some much-needed PTO in Iceland and the Faroe Islands!). Way back in 2017-2018, I spent about ~3 months total in London (per my work policy, I would stay two weeks, then fly back to New York for two weeks, so I also accrued a hefty amount of airline points, which was nice!). For this trip, I figured I’d revisit some of my favorite places from those visits and then try a couple new things. Since I was primarily here on work, this blog will feel a bit more scattered – but read on if you’re interested in the Victoria & Albert Museum!

After getting settled in a my second hotel post-red eye (long story short, don’t fall for pretty pictures when booking business hotels!), I ventured to Soho to revisit one of my favorite restaurants: Dishoom Carnaby. Dishoom now has ~10 locations throughout London, so I was worried the “magic” might have evaporated, but if anything, it over-delivered as always. In my opinion, it’s a master class in customer experience for a “normal” restaurant (and the food is incredible, of course). Since they don’t take same day reservations, everyone is routed to a line outside, where you’re offered complementary sherry or housemade, warm chai (a must!). Once you’re at the front of the line, the host makes small talk (in my case, we chatted about her interest in working in tech and strategies for her to transition back to a non-hospitality career). Then, you’re swiftly moved inside to the bar, where “tipples” galore are on offer (and they seamlessly add any drinks to your table, to avoid awkward tab-related issues). Finally, you’re seated and open the newspaper-like menu to choose from a variety of Iranian-inspired Bombay-style dishes.

My go-to order 7 years ago was the New Keema Pau (a spicy vegetarian dish served with chopped red onion, cilantro and buttered buns), Chicken Ruby (think butter chicken, but with more spice and less fat) and Cheese Naan (self explanatory – basically naan stuffed with melted cheese and herbs), accompanied by the “Viceroy’s Old Fashioned” cocktail and after significant deliberation… that’s exactly what I ordered. The Viceroy’s Old Fashioned has been decolonized to the “Permit Room Old Fashioned” (still served in a cute cork-top bottle!) but otherwise, everything was just as incredible as I remembered. I’m not sure what makes the food quite so delicious, but it is by far the best Indian food I’ve experienced the world over.

After Dishoom, I headed back to the hotel to crash (in fairness, my watch recorded a total of 1 hour and 48 minutes of sleep between the red eye and the hotel fiasco!). The following morning, I woke early and took advantage of jet lag to knock out critical work items before museums opened.

I decided to make the most of my time before the event welcome dinner to see a couple items I hadn’t visited before in London: the Thin House and the Victoria & Albert Museum (also known as the V&A). Since I’m staying near Paddington Station, I figured I’d take the Circle Line. Full of excitement, I headed into the lovely, sunny London day, walking through the labyrinth of Paddington Station following signs to the Circle Line out past the taxis, past the commuter rail lines, past every other Underground entrance. I then proceeded to take what I believed was the Circle Line, but was instead a Hammersmith and Circle Line train to Edgewater. At Edgewater, I figured I’d hop off to switch to a true Circle Line train… and instead hopped on a District Line train. Coming to my senses, I fortunately hopped off the District Line before it began moving, waiting on the platform for ~10 minutes for the next Circle Line to arrive (side note: London running three trains on the same track is not an intuitive choice and I tip my hat to those who navigate the Tube daily). Long story short, the Circle Line never did come and I hopped a train back to Paddington. At the station, I chatted with an attendant who confirmed the Circle Line in that direction was suspended – but, if I wanted to try the opposite direction (it is a circle, after all!), I could walk to the entire other side of the station and try there.

So, off I went. I then found myself on another platform, waiting for another Circle Line train that never arrived. Fortunately or unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one waiting – a number of people were asking for guidance from other waiting passengers. You may notice a slight logical failure in my actions here – if the Circle Line is a circle, and it’s suspended in one direction, shouldn’t it be suspended in the other? Yes. A group of us decided to hop the next train that arrived and hope for the best.

There we were – three Americans (myself and a father-son duo who looked right out of a coming of age movie), an African tourist, and an elderly British woman, all braving the commute to South Kensington via Earl’s Court. Fortunately (in fairness, our “bravery” extended as far as finally reading a subway map and realizing we could switch trains), we made it.

Up first was the Thin House! It’s apparently roughly 6-feet wide at the narrowest point (and photos do a great job exaggerating the narrowness with creative perspective), but walking up, you can see that it’s actually more of a “triangle” vs a “rectangle” at the thinnest part. According to one article I read, one of the studios that occupies the “thin” part is about 600 square feet (34 feet wide at its widest point) and, shockingly, sold for £900,000 in 2016.

The Victoria & Albert, I’m ashamed to say, wasn’t even on my radar – but after visiting, I’d highly recommend it to anyone (especially if you’re looking for an alternative to the British Museum!).

The collection includes some fascinating pieces from around the globe. The first series that caught my attention included several ancient textiles / items from ~500-900 CE, including some amazingly preserved Coptic tunics (and shoes!) where you can still see the intricate monkey motif in the tailoring.

I also found an early Christian tapestry depicting the Roman god “Mercury” incredibly interesting; from my studies of the period, I knew that as Christianity became more widespread, it co-opted and then transitioned away from local religions. Seeing that cultural crossover preserved in an artifact is amazing.

A gilded book of Psalms that scholars believe to be a gift from Charlemagne (to whom it was unclear) also caught my eye.

Lastly from this section, I enjoyed a clerical robe which displays female saints – something I haven’t seen often in preserved vestments! The curation notes suggest that it was likely created for a convent, given the female motifs.

I was also incredibly impressed with how the V&A curated the Middle East / Near East exhibits. Curation is always inherently political – regardless of how subtle those political choices may be – and I thought it was bold that the V&A had a prominently displayed exhibition on Palestinian dress from the ~1910s, when Britain was a colonial force in the region. It was clear that both the presence and location of this exhibit was intentional to draw attention to Palestinian personhood and culture, which I deeply appreciated.

The rest of the Middle Eastern exhibition also held many treasures, including beautiful plates / glassware from Iran (from a several-hundred-year span; the LHS item is from ~1200 while the RHS is from the ~1818) and a gorgeous carpet that took up a huge amount of surface area (you can see the scale in the LHS photo in below!) and is only lit for a minute on the half hour / hour marks to elongate preservation (fortunately I caught it lit up!).

I also deeply appreciated that the curation continued to showcase the theme of cross-cultural trade and that the curation focused on the “lived experience” of various items. For example, in a room showcasing beautiful oriental rugs, the museum displayed one as it would have looked in situ – i.e., as a “tablecloth” of sorts. The unaware might assume that an oriental rug would have been used at a Middle Eastern table; however, during the time, only Europeans used four-poster tables, as Middle Eastern cultures would have reclined or sat on pillows on the floor.

Similarly, an oriental rug with skulls stitched onto it must have been intended for a European audience, as Middle Eastern designs rarely feature these “realistic” images. I also appreciated when they called out historical misperceptions about the origin of various goods – for example, a whole collection of meticulously decorated vessels were previously thought to have been carved in the southern Mediterranean, but in fact must have been crafted in Egypt and shipped northward across the Mediterranean. As with the Palestine exhibit mentioned above, I found it bold that the curation notes had an anticolonial tone and instead centered non-European perspectives and craftsmanship.

I also got the see the “Luck of Edenhall” which apparently is both one of the most famous pieces in the collection and a rare example of luxury Syrian glass. According to the curation notes, the glass is from ~1350 CE and is believed to have been a souvenir from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. As legend goes, it became a talisman for the Edenhall family and they believed it to have belonged to fairies, who fled the cup saying, “If this cup should break or fall, farewell the luck of Edenhall!” I also found a second glass, which appears lit from within, equally impressive.

They also had an excellent exhibit on items from India, primarily gathered by the East India Company. One of these displays was on chintz (Indian painted cotton, often with repeating floral patterns), which became fashionable in France and Holland in the 1660s. By the early 1700s, laws to stop the massive import of chintzes were in place, but it continued to be smuggled into Britain. Frankly, there were too many incredible pieces from this exhibit to display here; everything from the golden throne of a Punjabi leader to an incredible turban worn by a Sikh leader (which was adorned with multiple weapons – “Easy access!” according to the curation notes!). I also loved the gorgeous instruments on display.

The V&A also had an incredible East Asia collection, featuring pieces from Japan, China and Korea. The Japanese exhibit had some excellent representations of samurai armor from various periods. On the LHS, you can see one from ~1800, which also includes an iki-ningyo (i.e., a “living doll” that was used for exhibitions in Japan and beyond as part of dioramas on Japanese life / history. The middle is from ~1400-1500 and called “o-yoroi” or great armor, incorporating plates of lacquered leather or iron laced together in rows. Lastly, the the RHS represents the haramaki style, from the Edo period. It was primarily ceremonial, and therefore less heavy than previous versions.

They also had a wonderful collection of inro, which were containers that would be suspended from the sash of traditional Japanese robes. The most impressive example at the V&A is a collection of 12 inro, representing the 12 months of the year and created by Zeshin, one of the most famed lacquer artists, in 1865.

I also loved the modern items included in the Korea exhibit – especially this vase that is a study in pop culture and consumerism!

Before we entered the premodern and modern exhibits, I also ducked into the “Cast Courts”. Initially skeptical, this was actually a fascinating and quite unique series of rooms. Back in the Victorian period, it was much more difficult to travel – so the museum took “casts” of a variety of items from around the world, and filled these rooms with them as part of the mission of providing art education. Apparently, the original the goal of these casts was to inspire British artists, designers and artisans and to supply better designs to British factories, as well as to help consumers become more discerning in their choices.  The curation has very little rhyme or reason – apparently exactly as it would have looked in the Victorian period! It felt like stepping into the “treasure room” from National Treasure walking among everything from crypts of famous individuals to Roman and Greek statues, to amazing architectural elements.

The medieval and premodern exhibits continued to provide new insights. I loved the dish showing “Leda and the Swan” – the style (to me) looks incredibly modern, but it’s actually from 1515!

Of course, an exhibit wouldn’t be complete without beautiful old Dutch shoes, a highly decorated harpsichord, or a massive stove (with a built in throne, all the better for enjoying your riches on a cold winter night!).  

Then, it was on to the British history, which was more interesting than I expected. It included a vast array of items, from the music room at a country estate to men’s costumes from the late 1700s, to a very large collection of ironworks (including your average older-model park bench, which sadly you’re not allowed to sit on!).

Two items from this collection sparked my interest. The first were items representing “Spitalfields Silk” – i.e., silk produced in the Spitalfields area of London.

The second were furniture items designed in the “Chinoises” style, which is a fancy word for complete appropriation of East Asian design elements and motifs.

Since I had limited time remaining before I needed to return to my hotel to freshen up before the welcome dinner for the event I was supporting, I decided to cut myself off and head to my next destination: the offices of a money exchange agency specializing in the exchange of “closed” currencies. As a quick reminder, we visited Albania earlier this year and in a boneheaded move, I withdrew the equivalent of $500 instead of $50 from an ATM on our last day in town. As it turns out, the Albanian LEK is a “closed currency” which essentially means it cannot be traded or exchanged outside of the country (other currencies with this lovely designation include those of Cuba and Iran, among others). So, after calling my bank, a friend’s bank, and strongly considering going from store to store in SF’s Little Russia to see if anyone was making a trip back to the region any time soon, I began scouring the internet for options, and thankfully, this office in London would accept a physical drop off!

To get there, I took one of London’s famous double decker buses, passing some amusing sights along the way, including Salt Bae’s restaurant (the exterior, located under the saddest casino I’ve seen, completely matched what I’ve heard about his food – designed for social media, not worth the price) and a bus filled with passengers experiencing high tea (fit all your tourist trap experiences into one hour as you navigate London traffic!).

Finally, I found the office tucked into a side street and made my delivery (much to the confusion of the 5 or so construction workers inside the building).

Then, I headed back to Carnaby to grab a quick lunch at Kingly Court, which is a new food court filled with trendy restaurants (I also noticed some of my former Soho favorites, such as the Cahoots! speakeasy, now have outposts here). I tried Le Bab, which is a Mediterranean fusion restaurant – both the “posh” G&T and the paneer kebab were delicious.

On my way back to my hotel, I stopped by the Sherlock Holmes Museum at Baker Street. Honestly, it wasn’t nearly worth the 20 GBP I spent on the ticket, but it would be a cute experience for anyone traveling with kids. As Sherlock is obviously a fictional character, the entire property is kind of a gimmick – they basically gathered artifacts that felt apropos to the character, created a (VERY rehearsed) talk track as though the character were a real person, and then allowed exploration of the remaining two floors of the property (a good deal of which were rooms with various types of Victorian toilets and a statue of a very creepy child).

They also had “the” famous duck-hunter hat, which apparently Sherlock “hated” (I found it super weird none of these emotions were attributed to Arthur Conan Doyle and that these artifacts were presented as “authentic”). The talk track was similarly confusing – a solid half of it was about Sherlock’s “friends” aka famous serial killers from the Victorian era, including a weird tangent about the Lambeth Poisoner (in fact, I learned way more about him than anything about Sherlock!).

Of course, the train was also suspended on my way back.

The next three days were primarily spent at my conference, but I did manage to make it out for dinner on both nights. I tried Oita, which is purportedly the “best” karaage (Japanese-style fried chicken) in London (the karaage was good, although the rest of the meal was disappointing and I was extremely confused by the 4.7 rating on Google). Similarly, I tried the Banana Tree (4.9!) the following night and was treated to curry with an honest-to-God side portion of coleslaw, so you can guess how I felt about that. I did try one of the trendy bars, the Little Violet Door, and the drinks were good and the vibe quirky as expected. I suspect I might have enjoyed it more were I not continuing to work a 14-hour day, including 7 hours previously working a conference booth.

I did want to also record my celebratory dinner on my last night in London. Somehow, I was able to snag a reservation at Kitchen Table, a 2 Michelin star restaurant with a menu that changes daily and which ranks currently on a “Top 100 in Europe” list (well deserved!).

The meal was truly incredible. The premise is that you’re sitting at the chef’s “kitchen table” and it felt almost like a theater production watching the chef and his team cook, plate, and explain each of the 17 bites / courses (picture of the menu shared by the team below!).

I also appreciated that Chef Knappett was not only present, but incredibly friendly both during service and after (he’s the one saucing my plate in the photo below). As we were winding down and moving back to the “lounge” I asked him about his experiences working as a young chef under Gordon Ramsay (among other topics – for anyone planning to go, ask about his Michelin Man collection!). Surprisingly, he spent about 15 minutes sharing what were ultimately pretty vulnerable stories about his early career in ‘90s kitchens under Ramsay and other master chefs (suffice to say, it was a totally different era and Kitchen Confidential wasn’t all that far off in terms of interpersonal treatment, although it sounds like he deeply appreciates Ramsay’s approach looking back and has great respect for him even today). His stories are his to tell, but the “stock” story I heard him sharing with others was that on his first day, he showed up 15 minutes early for his first shift, was told he was 15 minutes late (he wasn’t!) and was promptly put to work. Of course, all these stories were told with lots of smiles and cheeky British humor!

Among my favorite bites:

• The oyster was unique, with three different types of elderflower presentations (including a jelly, granita, and the flower itself)
• The cuttlefish felt like a noodle dish, which was so creative; the spices and scrambled egg were also the perfect complements
• The wild garlic rigatoni was unbelievably delicious; I could have eaten a whole Olive Garden-sized portion
• The tomato gallate dessert was fascinating – it came with creamy cheese and black olive jam that paired really nicely

While I did the wine pairing with the dinner, the restaurant also plans a 45-minute welcome in the “lounge” and allows you to stay as late as you like after dinner. I’m so glad I did both, as the mixology program was fantastic – I tried the “celery” cocktail, which included a celery liqueur and celery seed and yet tasted like a refreshing, fruity cocktail. I also tried the special Macallan “perfect” Manhattan, which I have to say was a touch above all of the standard Manhattans I’ve enjoyed. The “perfect” component refers to the fact that it includes both sweet and dry vermouth, making it slightly more balanced than your average Manhattan. I’m not sure if mixologists in the US are familiar with this approach, but I’ll ask next time I’m at a restaurant or bar that I suspect might know how to make it.

My final day in London was tragically spent attempting to get to Gatwick airport. London thankfully has an excellent train system, but after my previous experience on the Circle Line, I opted to take the Lizzy Line (as the Brits call the Elizabeth Line) one last time to transfer to a Thameslink train. Since Gatwick is actually much closer to Brighton than London, it was quite the hike – and, hilariously, we got passed by the Gatwick express not once but twice on the ~1.5 hour journey. Once at Gatwick, I stopped at the Sonoma California restaurant (located helpfully next to the California Burrito restaurant!) and had a fish & chips that was hilariously a better meal than the two dinners I had earlier in the week.

Now, as I type this, I’m somewhere above the shimmering Sea of Ireland on my way to my next stop: Reykjavik, Iceland!