#indian restaurant carina

[aeqghrwen]

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[checkoutmybookshelf]

Favorite Dragon Prince Quotes

...Yes, this is a thinly veiled excuse to talk more about this series, which my brain is refusing to shut up about lately. It's also a thinly-veiled excuse to try some different book photo things. And mess around with filters and stuff, because somehow I washed the green out of the background and managed to make the photographic covers look...well, The Dragon Prince's Betrayal full-on looks like it was done with oil pastels, so go me. I have ZERO CLUE how I did that.

What we're ACTUALLY doing with this post though is picking my favorite quotes from each book. I do not promise no spoilers, so beware and enjoy!

"Even if I was willing to marry you after one hot make-out session in a pool, you should know..." she paused, her hazel gaze skidding away from his and Toren could sense her fear. "It doesn't matter." "It kind of does," Carina said, looking up through her eyelashes at him. "Since Alaska undoubtedly has an extradition agreement with the United States and I'm pretty sure I'm wanted for murder."

-- pp. 60-61, The Dragon Prince of Alaska

The sound of shattering glass was her cue, and at that moment, she tightened her grip on the leash in her hand, yanking down as hard as she could. "Bad dog!" she shouted, and a black dragon dropped out of the sky onto them.

-- p. 224, The Dragon Prince of Alaska

"What's your plan of attack?" "I pick her up at six," Rian said. "I'll take her to the nicest Indian restaurant in the area." "Taxi? Limo? A bicycle built for two?" Rian hadn't thought that far ahead. "Ah, a limo?" "Got a company lined up? It's Friday, they might not have last-minute availability. You got a good suit to wear?" "I'm wearing my uniform." "Oh, that's subtle," Tray scoffed. [...] Do you have a hotel lined up? Where do you plan to take her afterwards?" "I..." Rian hadn't even considered what would happen next. "This is unlike you little brother," Tray teased. "Aren't you usually the one who is scheduled to the minute? I suppose you called the credit card company to let them know you'd be making purchases in Florida so they don't block you for fraud when you try to pay for your date?" "I...ah..." Rian patted his pockets in sudden alarm. "Did you at least bring a copy of your diplomatic passport?" Tray sighed. Rian gave a groan. "No passport?" Tray guessed. "I forgot my wallet." Tray really did drop his phone then; Rian could hear him chortling as he fumbled for it."

-- p. 30, The Dragon Prince's Librarian

"Toren said that he and Carina felt...what they were going to feel, before it really grew naturally between them," Rian said hesitantly. "And each other, that they felt each other. What the other one was feeling. For a little while, anyway. Spells fade." Tania winced. "I'm sorry for that, then," she said bitterly. "But I'm glad it's only for a little while. Does it go away quickly?" It took Rian a moment to understand what she meant. "I'm not sorry. This..." he gestured at her can, and the tidy row of prescription bottles on the counter, "it's part of who you are. I wish I could take it from you, but I'm not sorry to know what it's like." Tania's eyes were hollow, but tearless. "How much of it do you...get?" Rian considered. "I feel like I'm sitting on something desperately uncomfortable, not sharp pain, just dull, heavy, and heavier still because it feels so inevitable."

-- p. 43-44, The Dragon Prince's Librarian

"Those aren't the receipts for your cane," Rian said leadingly. Tania looked closer at the pages. "Five hundred hand-carved canes?" "They aren't as fancy as yours," Rian said swiftly. "That's one-of-a-kind. But you said that no one should have to make do with the ugly ones insurance covers. This won't be enough for everyone of course, but the workshop said they couldn't make more than that in three months, so we're starting here. They'll be distributed to all the clinics and village health centers." Tania made herself close her mouth as soon as she realized that it was hanging open, and she flipped to the next receipt, only to find herself opening it again in astonishment. "This is so much!" "You shouldn't have to be royalty to get decent medical care," Rian told her firmly, and Tania recognized her own words. "This ought to go a little ways and help a few people, at least. I've hired an advisor to make sure that it goes to the people who need it, and that the application process isn't a nightmare and there aren't any weird tax loopholes..."

-- p. 214, The Dragon Prince's Librarian

"I'm sure my fiancé will greatly appreciate our safe return," Leinani said gently. [...] Tray didn't even attempt politeness. "And by appreciate, her highness means that you are about to face a fuckton of angry dragons."

-- p. 61, The Dragon Prince's Bride

"We don't want you, highness," Scoff sneered. "Amara wants the princess." Tray jerked as if they'd shot him. "No, no, she promised! I have my dragon again, you can take me, you don't get to do this to her."

-- p. 182, The Dragon Prince's Bride

"You really should try to get some sleep," he said, swinging his legs off the bed. "It's hard. What you just went through. I know." He yawned and gave an exaggerated stretch. And the couch is calling me. I waited up all night, you know. That whole platonic worried roommate thing."

-- p. 191, The Dragon Prince's Bride

They had always been like water and oil, Kenth resisting his older brother's imperious direction and acting more reckless than necessary just to needle him. It had been little more than sibling rivalry at first, but the death of their mother had changed their relationship to active antipathy. Fask blamed Kenth for not being there to save her. Kenth didn't actually blame himself any less, but it poisoned any warmth that had remained between them. And then Dana...

-- pp. 33-34, The Dragon Prince's Secret

Kenth reached out and hung up. "Gig's up," he said firmly. He turned to Mackenzie. "Stay here, stay safe. We're doing this my way now." Allowing no further argument, he shifted and surged up into the sky, flying straight for the hotel and his daughter. He heard Toren protest behind him, "This is not a plan! This is the opposite of a plan! What are you doing?!"

-- p. 54, The Dragon Prince's Secret

What did you say to someone who was dying? Beg him to fight? Apologize for dragging him into this mess in the first place? Confess her feelings? She couldn't untangle the emotions in her heart, let alone on her tongue. But she could thank him, and make sure that he knew how grateful she was.

-- p. 105, The Dragon Prince's Secret

"You gave me the sky," she said, tearfully grateful and glad. "It was always yours," Kenth told her. "And no one can take it from you now."

-- p. 242, The Dragon Prince's Secret

"Oh that's glorious," she said. "Is it magic?" "No, but this is..." Raval dragged his fingers over a well-worn passage. "Pause," he said. All of the water stopped, every particle suspended in midair, and Katy sucked in her breath. Every drop was a motionless jewel, and they were standing in a chamber of glistening enchantment. It was beautiful, which had not been part of Raval's original purpose, but he was glad of it now, because Katy loved it so much. "I've never seen anything like it," she gasped. "I'm in a chandelier!" She swept a hand through the hanging drops, dragging them along behind her in a trail of sparkling lights.

-- pp. 77-78, The Dragon Prince's Magic

"You are magic," she said in awe. Then she scrutinized him. "Why does this make you feel guilty?" "It's frivolous," Raval said frankly. "It serves no one but me. It was months of work that I did only for myself. It can't be duplicated and I don't even want anyone in my bathroom to enjoy it." He quickly added, "Except for you." "You're allowed to have projects for yourself," Katy said kindly. Raval could not feel a single hint of disappointment in her, so she must understand. "It was a lot of work. I ought to focus that kind of effort on something that betters humanity or saves lives or fixes realistic problems." There was a softness to Katy's mind that made Raval recognize all the prickles of his own. "I love you," she said. "I love you to the very bottom of your giant heart."

-- p. 78, The Dragon Prince's Magic

Knowing academically about magic was a lot different from suddenly being transported somewhere unknown in a fiery magical explosion, so Katy thought it was probably understandable that she screamed and clutched at Lancelot.

-- p. 97, The Dragon Prince's Magic

A baby. Katy's baby. His baby. A baby they made.

-- p. 140, The Dragon Prince's Magic

"You are missing ussssss," a disembodied voiced boomed through the stone walls, and then, suddenly, there was a ring of spirits around the table in the center of the cavern. They looked, at a glance, mostly human, but each of them was wreathed in an aspect of their element. A man seemed made of stone, his skin moving like little pebble landslides as he walked. A woman had trees for hair and leaves over her body like feathers. One man seemed to be smoldering, shrouded in smoke, and another was actively wearing flames. And there was Angel, standing soaking wet like she'd just come up out of the water, her hair wild around her.

-- p. 291, The Dragon Prince's Betrayal

The Alaskan prince collapsed onto Angel, who gave a gargle of pain and triumph. Violet flames wreathed them both and died away, leaving only a tangle of charred flesh and a puddle that might have been water...or blood.

-- p. 297, The Dragon Prince's Betrayal

"What was the bet that had Rian wandering naked around the castle? If we're going to get married, you can't keep a secret that huge from me." Alasie's eyes danced, even though her lips were as serene as ever. "That was the bet," she revealed. Drayger stated at her, waiting for the sentence to make sense. When it didn't, he persisted. "What was the bet? How was that the bet? I don't get it." "It wasn't Rian wandering the castle in the nude," Alasie said. "It was Tray. The bet was he could mimic his twin so successfully that even if he spent a week completely stark naked he could still fool everyone." Drayger stared. "And he did."

-- pp. 323-324, The Dragon Prince's Betrayal

Y'all...these books might be silly, fluffy shifter romances, but I literally cannot explain how they ended up living rent-free in my head. Hopefully some of these quotes explain it a bit.

Barring that, you might just have to read the books to figure it out.

[asrisgratitudejournal]

Bath

Hola! Apakabar semua semoga baik-baik saja

Mau ngelist things to be grateful lagi karena ADA BANYAK BGT YAAMPUN betul-betul heran Allah baik banget padahal jujur sekarang solat Subuh tu beratnya minta ampun padahal ya udah 03.51 sih nggak early-early amat hmmm. Anyway, so.... mau bersyukur atas:

1. Masih agak relax pace kerja belakangan ini karena (masih berhubungan sama pos sebelumnya) orang-orang lagi pada away. Palingan lagi rada rempong aja ni ngurusin berkas-berkas persyaratan dari cpui ke pui, mana salah satunya harus pake surat sehat dari RS tipe B yakaliii di sini di maneeeee??? huf. sama kepentok di first writer jurnal nasional juga haduu, baru masih ngedraft manuscriptnya blom disubmit... ada2 aje

2. Kemarin habis trip dari Bath dan Bristol! Kali ini perginya sama Mas Indra, Dini, Carina, dan Leon terus so fun senang. Pagi-pagi ke Castle Combe dulu (ini semacam desa kecil gitu ada 1 small river flowing with a bridge) merupakan tempat shooting filmnya Steven Spielberg "Warhorse", dan Stardust. The village is very pretty! And then we continue out trip to Bath (which is also a very beautiful -and surprisingly big- city). They have HMV there! Tapi ga jajan banyak karena udah abis uang w buat trip Scotland dan trip Bath ini kemarin. Untungnya tapi tadi pagi ngecek email udah ada invoice dari HSBC duit Jardine bakal masuk sih yang September HEHE Alhamdulillah rejeki anak solehah. Kemarin tapi di Manchester udah beli poster, mug, sama gantungan RJ juga di HMV jadi sepertinya belanjanya di-pause dulu. Terus di Bath kita masuk ke Roman Bath (which is quite expensive tapi b aj, tapi ya senang lah ya, at least kalau ditanya udah pernah ke sana apa belum jadi bisa jawab udah). Terus makan di Chinese restaurant! Yang sangat enak mapo tahunya HUHU I think mapo tahu ini adalah highlight of the trip deh. Abis dari Roman Bath, we hang out a bit di park gitu sambil makan eskrim, dan scone + tea. Lanjut foto-foto di Crescent Bath, nyari owls kata Kalina ada owls tapi sepertinya sudah di-take down in 2018 :( sad. Terus dari situ tadinya kita mau ke Dorset, ke Durdle Door, tapi ternyata waktunya ga cukup karena cukup jauh dan berakhir ke Bristol. Lihat suspension bridgenya (WHICH IS VERY COOL!) -- I am really interested in human-made construction & engineering + rocks. Lalu ke citynya kita makan di Korean Restaurant - which tastes okay. Lalu jalan-jalan nyari Banksy and foto-foto depan Uni of Bristol's cathedral(?) or museum itulah. Lalu pulang deeeh. Sampai Oxf jam 22pm lalu langsung tidur.

3. Kemarin Sabtu acara Indonesia in Oxfordnya lancar! Di-pos sama akun embassy di IG, you can find it here. Hujan sih for half of the event :( so sad tapi sangat amat bersyukur dan berterima kasih pokoknya sama Archu (she's an Indian who plays badminton with us, and I asked her to be the MC of the day and she said yes!), Bu Yani (the mastermind of all, sampe menelantarkan anak-anaknya -Nadia yang cerita lol, anyway Nadia ini army juga ternyata dan dia kemarin nonton Wembley 2019!! NANGIS BGT GAKSI T_T), Leon, Kevin, semua panitia pokoknya, Pak Peter Smith! yang ngajarin aku main kenong + passionately keep performing the Gamekan in the middle of the heavy rain (kayanya akan gabung ke tim beliau, I think I should go back to be near musical instruments...). Terus randomly, beres acara, ketemu sama Bu Rosi Meilani di Turl st, dia WNI tinggal di Luton, terus punya channel youtube gitu. Katanya sih dulu doi kerjanya sama Net TV. Jadi si Bu Rosi ini pengen ke toilet tapi acaranya dah beres jadi si tourist information center (tempat beskemnya panitia acara) udah dikunci, akhirnya w ajak aja masuk Exeter college kan buat pipis. E terus jadinya malah diajak interview wkwkwk di Fellow Garden di atas ngobrol-ngobrol lumayan lama dan w ajak masuk chapel juga. Abis itu doi sama suaminya kayanya masih mau explore Oxford dan ku sendiri sudah capek banget (BARU 2 HARI SETELAH 2ND JAB JUGA!) jadi ku pamit undur diri. Sialnya malamnya susah tidur, baru tidur jam 1 apa ya, padahal besok paginya harus sudah siap-siap jam 7.15 am dijemput Mas Indra buat trip ke Bath itu. Sedih banget tapi, sebetulnya malamnya ada acara perpisahan Sergine. Sergine ini teman 1 flatnya Arthur di Wolfson terus suka main ke rumah buat dinner. She's finished her master programme and will leave Oxford for good. She'll be back in November though for the graduation so I hope I can see her then. Aslinya pas ku sampai rumah dari acara Broad st ini Kalina masih siap-siap buat acara Sergine but I can't come karena betul-betul sudah tepar gakuat. 4. Beberapa hari yang lalu juga (apa minggu lalu ya) telponan random banget sama Noumi sampe 2 jam LOLs. Ngebahas tips n trick belajar. Berat ya pasti hidupnya ambil kedokteran di Jerman. Kemarin juga sempat chat apa gitu sama Abi tapi hilang ga kulanjutin. Suka gitu dah belakangan ini chat sama orang terus berhenti aja tiba-tiba lols. Mungkin memang seperti itulah hidup.

5. Satu lagi, akan datang abon ke Oxford! Karena Alris bakal ke sini in 3 days(?) dan bawa titipanku. So happy. Kemarin tapi juga ini barang-barangnya Alris banyak bener sih yang dititipin di tempat w dari Indah (panci-panci, kipas angin, sepedah) jadi yaudah biarin aja Alris dititipin yang banyak. Si Papa sampai ke Jakarta lho di tengah-tengah PPKM untuk mengantar abon, imagine, sayang banget gaksi sama Papa....

Yaudah sepertinya itu dulu saja untuk hari ini karena ku harus bekerja. Ciao!

Woodlands Close 9, Headington, OX3 7 RY 23/08/2021 14:25 pm

[tasteculturepower]

I’m from Orange County, California, so all my life, I’ve been exposed to many different, vibrant, and delicious cuisines, all within a 5-mile radius. Indian food, Chinese food, Korean food, Japanese food, Vietnamese food, Italian food, Mexican food––you name it, we had easy access to it. Whatever food I wanted was at my fingertips. And if that wasn’t enough, there were fusion options available too: sushi burritos, kimchi fried rice, filet mignon pho, and everything in between. Food was a staple to my social life back home, as it provided the easiest way to get to know someone: getting a meal together. Every time we ate out together, food drew my friends and I closer. Eating together meant not only getting food, but also sitting with each other for the duration of the meal, talking as we wait for our food, and maybe even sharing our bits of our meals with each other. Going out to eat with my friends allowed us to socialize, interact with, and get to know each other on a deeper level. Whether it be catching each other up about what was going on in our lives at the moment, or talking about what dress we were going to wear to the dance next Friday, conversation was a key component of eating together. When my friends and I go out to eat, typically everyone orders something different in case we wanted to share or as a contingency plan if one of our orders just completely sucked. It allowed us to experience a greater diversity of the restaurant’s menu and helped us decided what foods we should order next time, if we would come back. Going out in southern California heavily revolved around getting food and trying out different, new, authentic, and fusion restaurants. Every two weeks there seemed to be a new boba place or ramen shop that would open around the corner, and my friends and I would always be eager to try. So, what tastes like home to me is the variety in the foods I order when I’m out with my friends.

Carina Lee

[jonathanbelloblog]

Mountains Climbed Lions Tamed

The bad thing about starting out on your first great South African off-road driving and safari adventure is that you and your camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hat look unbelievably stupid clomping through the gleaming marble lobby of Cape Town’s prestigious Table Bay Hotel. Hmm. Those childhood “Tarzan” movies might not have been the best source of wardrobe tips.

Once outside, we blend in so much better. Lining the hotel’s circular drive are a row of rugged Land Rover LR3s, one in Zambezi silver and four in Tangiers orange (painted in the livery of the recent G4 global adventure challenge), each accompanied by official instructor/guides dressed in matching uniforms of blue long-sleeved shirts and gray trousers. Behind them is a coterie of Land Rover North America handlers, complete with camera crew ready to record the five-star safari ahead.  

This is why we’d traveled halfway around the world. Automobile Magazine had been invited to join a band of well-heeled American adventurers who’d ponied up $8995 each (not including airfare) for the privilege of being terrified into a state of adventure nirvana for the next six days and nights. They are dressed like me, with the exception of a Bottega Veneto handbag here and a pair of Gucci loafers and Prada sunglasses there.

No, you will not meet beer-swilling, skinny-dipping, Jeep Rubicon- type revelers on the Land Rover trail. Our fellow travelers are retired captains of industry and entrepreneurs in aircraft maintenance and real-estate development. But make no mistake: over the course of the next week, in between the gourmet meals and fine wines of the Western Cape, men and women alike will slip from luxurious 1000-thread-count cocoons to muscle their pricey SUVs over perilous mountain passes, to ford rivers presumably teeming with crocodiles, and to part the dense swamp- grass home of black mambas, puff adders, and spitting cobras. Then drink.

There are a few off-road paradises left in the world, and Land Rover knows where to find them, partly because its stalwart products have already blazed those trails and can still be found merrily rolling along where pack mules fear to tread. If you own a Land Rover, you have the keys to it all, and Land Rover culture encourages you to partake.   Dealerships (called Land Rover Centres) have little on-site mountain test courses to try before you buy. Afterward, you can attend one of three magnificent off-road driving schools—at the Quail Lodge in Carmel Valley, California; at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina; or at Fairmont Le Chateau Montebello in Quebec. The next stop is a full-blown Land Rover Adventure.

South Africa, a country three times the size of Great Britain, is perfect for adventure. It splits the frigid Atlantic from the warm waters of the Indian Ocean at the Cape Point, and depending on which side you’re on, offers subtropical vegetation, rugged mountain ranges, semi-desert, rain forest, scrubby bushveld, and perfectly groomed vineyards.   Its cities are modern, the political climate is fairly stable given its tumultuous past, its little towns are quaint, and the well-marked road system of the Western Cape is in better shape than Michigan’s. All that, and wild elephants in the backyard, too.

  What could be more perfect? That would be our guides, the staff of Kwa-Zulu Natal Land Rover Experience, the world’s first franchised Land Rover off-road training group, led by the irrepressible Rob Timcke, a chain-smoking, Red Bull-slugging firecracker. Timcke is a born raconteur who nevertheless inspires utter confidence in his ability to bring everyone back alive.   Not just a talker, Timcke was raised in a hunting camp in the old Eastern Transvaal on the Mozambique border, where his first language was Zulu. He spent time in the Congo during the really bad years as a South African army intelligence officer and became a professional hunter until 1993, when Communist Party leader Chris Hani was murdered and trophy hunters stayed home. Next, he set up tourist dives to view tiger and great white sharks. Without the cage.  

Timcke then jumped into teaching people the fine art of off-road driving. “I was always a bush person,” he says, “never a sea person. After nine years of getting really seasick, I found some idiot of a bank manager to buy my operation.” His cohorts include his stunning Akrikaaner wife, Carina. (“I slept my way into a job,” she cracks. “Unfortunately, my previous job paid much more.”)   Her brother Pierre Versfeld and top fly-fishing guide Antony Diplock complete the group. Diplock is not a big talker, but then he lives alone on an island near Namibia and, at the age of eighteen, participated in the tribal coming-of-age circumcision ritual with his boyhood Zulu friends. He doesn’t need to talk much.

Handshakes and hellos out of the way, we climb behind right-hand-mounted steering wheels and head south in convoy. To acclimate us to driving on the wrong side of the road, Timcke has sent us down the coast road past the rugged Twelve Apostles mountain chain flanking our left and the beach towns of Camps Bay and Llandudno on our right.   We climb the Chapman’s Peak toll road clinging to seaside cliffs and rumble through the shrubby natural fynbos (“fine bush”) habitat of the Cape of Good Hope nature reserve splashed with the bright spikey blooms of protea.

South Africans are rightfully proud of this, the densest of the world’s six floral kingdoms, counting between 8500 and 9000 species packed in an L-shaped area centered around Cape Town, no more than sixty miles wide. The camera car just misses a turtle in front of us. “Ooh, a fynbos tortoise,” chuckles Timcke. “They’re quite rare.”

The plan for a brief mountainside sojourn in the dirt is scratched due to a hard, fast storm blowing in from the south. This brings fond memories to Timcke: “Carina and I ran a safari in Botswana. We were camping when massive, massive thunderstorms rolled in. You could see lightning for miles.   She was setting the table with white linen, and I noticed the ground was alive. Scorpions and spiders. ‘You take me home and you take me home now!’ she yelled. This other time we were scouting in Zambia, and I sent her out to check the depth of the river crossing. She was chest-deep and turned and yelled, ‘What if there are crocs?’ I told her, ‘Don’t splash.’ ” What a gal.

We carry on to the mountain-ringed Cape Winelands surrounding Paarl, Franschhoek, and Stellenbosch (founded by Dutch and Huguenot settlers in the late 1600s) for a world-class lunch at Bosman’s Restaurant at Grande Roche, Africa’s only Relais Gourmand.   We taste the superb wines of Grand Roche, Boschendal, and Spier. Instructors become chauffeurs. Back in Cape Town, a native choir welcomes us to dinner at the prime minister’s historic residence. It seems that there’ll be no end to the eating and drinking. And drinking.

Real off-roading comes early the next day, and it is very, very good. Our LR3 has a 300-hp V-8 that shifts through a six-speed manu-matic and a hill-descent control system that won’t let the vehicle roll downhill unchecked with your foot off the brake—which is most helpful when it gets dicey. Terrain response allows the perfect tractive selection with the spin of a knob. I select the rock icon to climb into the pines, spotting a mongoose and a few klipspringers, which look like tiny reindeer perched on clothespins.   It looks like Colorado, I think. Baboons run out. Colorado, but with baboons. A sentry male barks and moves toward us, menacing, while the rest of the troop flees. “I raised four baboons,” says Timcke. “They ran loose at our safari lodge. The males are domineering and see humans as other primates. There will be one alpha male and lots of beta males. My mom, they hung on her leg. My dad was the dominant male. At maturity, they challenge the troop. This one, he’d demonstrate his strength to the weaker part of the troop. That would be my sister. He eventually nipped her, drew blood, and I got out the revolver and shot him.” OK, then.

Once through the forest, we dive into a thicket of grass and find that the rain has made a lake of our trail. Knowing that an LR3 can push through water high enough to break over the hood, I press confidently along, completely forgetting I am on highway tires. No problem. We come out in the fynbos, a riotous blast of purple, pink, yellow, and blue spikes, flowers your florist would die for.

Back to Stellenbosch for an open-air Indonesian and Cape Malay buffet with delicacies such as springbok saut and gnu stew. (I made that last one up.) In the city center, there’s a great crafts market, but I’ve decided to not tell you about buying the Congolese mask from the Zairian merchant, whom I somehow bargained up from 280 to 300 rand, about fifty dollars. Rob is suffused with mirth as I climb in with my precious cargo. The guy was sweating. He pleaded. I felt sorry for him. Forget it.

Luggage stowed, we head for an overnight in the coastal town of Knysna. We of course go the longest, most difficult way. There is a dirt trail all the way from Cape Town to Knysna, but we don’t patch into it until we turn off just west of Mossel Bay on Route 327, pass ostrich farms that line the road on both sides, and head into the Centre Valley of the Western Cape, the arid red earth and rocklands of the Little Karoo.

In the distance, two wild ostriches haul tailfeathers across the bleak plain. “Damn quick little buggers,” says Rob. “Sixty kph [37 mph] at full speed.” The road turns to lane, the lane to trail, and soon we are climbing past a sign that reads, ‘Men remove dentures, ladies fasten your bras.’ It’s the oxwagon autobahn, the path of Dutch settlers between 1689 and 1869. If they could do it, so can we.

We see wild Boerperds—native horses—and the most colorful birds imaginable. When we can look. Because now we are creeping downhill. The rocks are loose and have sharp edges, it is scary steep, and in some places the holes are so deep that both rear wheels lift off the ground in a pirouette straight from hell, which gives me shallow breathing. As I crawl from that horror, I loosen my sweaty stranglehold on the wheel, letting it spin free in my hands.

“You mustn’t do that or the ruts in the road will dictate where your tires will be,” Rob corrects me. I forgot he was even there, focusing as I am on the sharp rocks that line the downward slope of this path. I feel six inches too close to everything—the steering wheel, the pedals, the brakes, God. “Take the brake off,” says Rob. Huh?   I have to unhook all ten toes from their death grip on the pedal. I don’t want to. But the LR3 slowly finishes the gradual descent without my feet. We are at Bonniedale, a 1650-hectare guest farm that was named one of the top 4×4 destinations in South Africa for two years.   It’s open to the public for anything from a day’s driving fun to camping and horse trekking. Nico Hesterman, a former conservation officer, and his wife, Danette, have lived in this wilderness for eighteen years and have a traditional outdoor barbecue, or braai, waiting in camp for us. A cold, Namibia-brewed Windhoek lager would have to wait ’til that evening.  

We were sorely ready for the rain forest town of Knysna and its ultraluxurious, ultrachic Pezula Resort. Again we arrive with the camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hats, tromping through someone’s hushed art gallery of a hotel lobby.   But this time, we throw ourselves on the nearest beer bottle, nearly weeping with relief for having made it thus far unscathed. Okay, maybe that really nice lady with the Bottega Veneto bag and Gucci loafers, who rode serenely down that same awful hill, confident in her young son’s ability at the wheel, sipped white wine.  

IFTTT

[jesusvasser]

Mountains Climbed Lions Tamed

The bad thing about starting out on your first great South African off-road driving and safari adventure is that you and your camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hat look unbelievably stupid clomping through the gleaming marble lobby of Cape Town’s prestigious Table Bay Hotel. Hmm. Those childhood “Tarzan” movies might not have been the best source of wardrobe tips.

Once outside, we blend in so much better. Lining the hotel’s circular drive are a row of rugged Land Rover LR3s, one in Zambezi silver and four in Tangiers orange (painted in the livery of the recent G4 global adventure challenge), each accompanied by official instructor/guides dressed in matching uniforms of blue long-sleeved shirts and gray trousers. Behind them is a coterie of Land Rover North America handlers, complete with camera crew ready to record the five-star safari ahead.  

This is why we’d traveled halfway around the world. Automobile Magazine had been invited to join a band of well-heeled American adventurers who’d ponied up $8995 each (not including airfare) for the privilege of being terrified into a state of adventure nirvana for the next six days and nights. They are dressed like me, with the exception of a Bottega Veneto handbag here and a pair of Gucci loafers and Prada sunglasses there.

No, you will not meet beer-swilling, skinny-dipping, Jeep Rubicon- type revelers on the Land Rover trail. Our fellow travelers are retired captains of industry and entrepreneurs in aircraft maintenance and real-estate development. But make no mistake: over the course of the next week, in between the gourmet meals and fine wines of the Western Cape, men and women alike will slip from luxurious 1000-thread-count cocoons to muscle their pricey SUVs over perilous mountain passes, to ford rivers presumably teeming with crocodiles, and to part the dense swamp- grass home of black mambas, puff adders, and spitting cobras. Then drink.

There are a few off-road paradises left in the world, and Land Rover knows where to find them, partly because its stalwart products have already blazed those trails and can still be found merrily rolling along where pack mules fear to tread. If you own a Land Rover, you have the keys to it all, and Land Rover culture encourages you to partake.   Dealerships (called Land Rover Centres) have little on-site mountain test courses to try before you buy. Afterward, you can attend one of three magnificent off-road driving schools—at the Quail Lodge in Carmel Valley, California; at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina; or at Fairmont Le Chateau Montebello in Quebec. The next stop is a full-blown Land Rover Adventure.

South Africa, a country three times the size of Great Britain, is perfect for adventure. It splits the frigid Atlantic from the warm waters of the Indian Ocean at the Cape Point, and depending on which side you’re on, offers subtropical vegetation, rugged mountain ranges, semi-desert, rain forest, scrubby bushveld, and perfectly groomed vineyards.   Its cities are modern, the political climate is fairly stable given its tumultuous past, its little towns are quaint, and the well-marked road system of the Western Cape is in better shape than Michigan’s. All that, and wild elephants in the backyard, too.

  What could be more perfect? That would be our guides, the staff of Kwa-Zulu Natal Land Rover Experience, the world’s first franchised Land Rover off-road training group, led by the irrepressible Rob Timcke, a chain-smoking, Red Bull-slugging firecracker. Timcke is a born raconteur who nevertheless inspires utter confidence in his ability to bring everyone back alive.   Not just a talker, Timcke was raised in a hunting camp in the old Eastern Transvaal on the Mozambique border, where his first language was Zulu. He spent time in the Congo during the really bad years as a South African army intelligence officer and became a professional hunter until 1993, when Communist Party leader Chris Hani was murdered and trophy hunters stayed home. Next, he set up tourist dives to view tiger and great white sharks. Without the cage.  

Timcke then jumped into teaching people the fine art of off-road driving. “I was always a bush person,” he says, “never a sea person. After nine years of getting really seasick, I found some idiot of a bank manager to buy my operation.” His cohorts include his stunning Akrikaaner wife, Carina. (“I slept my way into a job,” she cracks. “Unfortunately, my previous job paid much more.”)   Her brother Pierre Versfeld and top fly-fishing guide Antony Diplock complete the group. Diplock is not a big talker, but then he lives alone on an island near Namibia and, at the age of eighteen, participated in the tribal coming-of-age circumcision ritual with his boyhood Zulu friends. He doesn’t need to talk much.

Handshakes and hellos out of the way, we climb behind right-hand-mounted steering wheels and head south in convoy. To acclimate us to driving on the wrong side of the road, Timcke has sent us down the coast road past the rugged Twelve Apostles mountain chain flanking our left and the beach towns of Camps Bay and Llandudno on our right.   We climb the Chapman’s Peak toll road clinging to seaside cliffs and rumble through the shrubby natural fynbos (“fine bush”) habitat of the Cape of Good Hope nature reserve splashed with the bright spikey blooms of protea.

South Africans are rightfully proud of this, the densest of the world’s six floral kingdoms, counting between 8500 and 9000 species packed in an L-shaped area centered around Cape Town, no more than sixty miles wide. The camera car just misses a turtle in front of us. “Ooh, a fynbos tortoise,” chuckles Timcke. “They’re quite rare.”

The plan for a brief mountainside sojourn in the dirt is scratched due to a hard, fast storm blowing in from the south. This brings fond memories to Timcke: “Carina and I ran a safari in Botswana. We were camping when massive, massive thunderstorms rolled in. You could see lightning for miles.   She was setting the table with white linen, and I noticed the ground was alive. Scorpions and spiders. ‘You take me home and you take me home now!’ she yelled. This other time we were scouting in Zambia, and I sent her out to check the depth of the river crossing. She was chest-deep and turned and yelled, ‘What if there are crocs?’ I told her, ‘Don’t splash.’ ” What a gal.

We carry on to the mountain-ringed Cape Winelands surrounding Paarl, Franschhoek, and Stellenbosch (founded by Dutch and Huguenot settlers in the late 1600s) for a world-class lunch at Bosman’s Restaurant at Grande Roche, Africa’s only Relais Gourmand.   We taste the superb wines of Grand Roche, Boschendal, and Spier. Instructors become chauffeurs. Back in Cape Town, a native choir welcomes us to dinner at the prime minister’s historic residence. It seems that there’ll be no end to the eating and drinking. And drinking.

Real off-roading comes early the next day, and it is very, very good. Our LR3 has a 300-hp V-8 that shifts through a six-speed manu-matic and a hill-descent control system that won’t let the vehicle roll downhill unchecked with your foot off the brake—which is most helpful when it gets dicey. Terrain response allows the perfect tractive selection with the spin of a knob. I select the rock icon to climb into the pines, spotting a mongoose and a few klipspringers, which look like tiny reindeer perched on clothespins.   It looks like Colorado, I think. Baboons run out. Colorado, but with baboons. A sentry male barks and moves toward us, menacing, while the rest of the troop flees. “I raised four baboons,” says Timcke. “They ran loose at our safari lodge. The males are domineering and see humans as other primates. There will be one alpha male and lots of beta males. My mom, they hung on her leg. My dad was the dominant male. At maturity, they challenge the troop. This one, he’d demonstrate his strength to the weaker part of the troop. That would be my sister. He eventually nipped her, drew blood, and I got out the revolver and shot him.” OK, then.

Once through the forest, we dive into a thicket of grass and find that the rain has made a lake of our trail. Knowing that an LR3 can push through water high enough to break over the hood, I press confidently along, completely forgetting I am on highway tires. No problem. We come out in the fynbos, a riotous blast of purple, pink, yellow, and blue spikes, flowers your florist would die for.

Back to Stellenbosch for an open-air Indonesian and Cape Malay buffet with delicacies such as springbok saut and gnu stew. (I made that last one up.) In the city center, there’s a great crafts market, but I’ve decided to not tell you about buying the Congolese mask from the Zairian merchant, whom I somehow bargained up from 280 to 300 rand, about fifty dollars. Rob is suffused with mirth as I climb in with my precious cargo. The guy was sweating. He pleaded. I felt sorry for him. Forget it.

Luggage stowed, we head for an overnight in the coastal town of Knysna. We of course go the longest, most difficult way. There is a dirt trail all the way from Cape Town to Knysna, but we don’t patch into it until we turn off just west of Mossel Bay on Route 327, pass ostrich farms that line the road on both sides, and head into the Centre Valley of the Western Cape, the arid red earth and rocklands of the Little Karoo.

In the distance, two wild ostriches haul tailfeathers across the bleak plain. “Damn quick little buggers,” says Rob. “Sixty kph [37 mph] at full speed.” The road turns to lane, the lane to trail, and soon we are climbing past a sign that reads, ‘Men remove dentures, ladies fasten your bras.’ It’s the oxwagon autobahn, the path of Dutch settlers between 1689 and 1869. If they could do it, so can we.

We see wild Boerperds—native horses—and the most colorful birds imaginable. When we can look. Because now we are creeping downhill. The rocks are loose and have sharp edges, it is scary steep, and in some places the holes are so deep that both rear wheels lift off the ground in a pirouette straight from hell, which gives me shallow breathing. As I crawl from that horror, I loosen my sweaty stranglehold on the wheel, letting it spin free in my hands.

“You mustn’t do that or the ruts in the road will dictate where your tires will be,” Rob corrects me. I forgot he was even there, focusing as I am on the sharp rocks that line the downward slope of this path. I feel six inches too close to everything—the steering wheel, the pedals, the brakes, God. “Take the brake off,” says Rob. Huh?   I have to unhook all ten toes from their death grip on the pedal. I don’t want to. But the LR3 slowly finishes the gradual descent without my feet. We are at Bonniedale, a 1650-hectare guest farm that was named one of the top 4×4 destinations in South Africa for two years.   It’s open to the public for anything from a day’s driving fun to camping and horse trekking. Nico Hesterman, a former conservation officer, and his wife, Danette, have lived in this wilderness for eighteen years and have a traditional outdoor barbecue, or braai, waiting in camp for us. A cold, Namibia-brewed Windhoek lager would have to wait ’til that evening.  

We were sorely ready for the rain forest town of Knysna and its ultraluxurious, ultrachic Pezula Resort. Again we arrive with the camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hats, tromping through someone’s hushed art gallery of a hotel lobby.   But this time, we throw ourselves on the nearest beer bottle, nearly weeping with relief for having made it thus far unscathed. Okay, maybe that really nice lady with the Bottega Veneto bag and Gucci loafers, who rode serenely down that same awful hill, confident in her young son’s ability at the wheel, sipped white wine.  

IFTTT

[eddiejpoplar]

Mountains Climbed Lions Tamed

The bad thing about starting out on your first great South African off-road driving and safari adventure is that you and your camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hat look unbelievably stupid clomping through the gleaming marble lobby of Cape Town’s prestigious Table Bay Hotel. Hmm. Those childhood “Tarzan” movies might not have been the best source of wardrobe tips.

Once outside, we blend in so much better. Lining the hotel’s circular drive are a row of rugged Land Rover LR3s, one in Zambezi silver and four in Tangiers orange (painted in the livery of the recent G4 global adventure challenge), each accompanied by official instructor/guides dressed in matching uniforms of blue long-sleeved shirts and gray trousers. Behind them is a coterie of Land Rover North America handlers, complete with camera crew ready to record the five-star safari ahead.  

This is why we’d traveled halfway around the world. Automobile Magazine had been invited to join a band of well-heeled American adventurers who’d ponied up $8995 each (not including airfare) for the privilege of being terrified into a state of adventure nirvana for the next six days and nights. They are dressed like me, with the exception of a Bottega Veneto handbag here and a pair of Gucci loafers and Prada sunglasses there.

No, you will not meet beer-swilling, skinny-dipping, Jeep Rubicon- type revelers on the Land Rover trail. Our fellow travelers are retired captains of industry and entrepreneurs in aircraft maintenance and real-estate development. But make no mistake: over the course of the next week, in between the gourmet meals and fine wines of the Western Cape, men and women alike will slip from luxurious 1000-thread-count cocoons to muscle their pricey SUVs over perilous mountain passes, to ford rivers presumably teeming with crocodiles, and to part the dense swamp- grass home of black mambas, puff adders, and spitting cobras. Then drink.

There are a few off-road paradises left in the world, and Land Rover knows where to find them, partly because its stalwart products have already blazed those trails and can still be found merrily rolling along where pack mules fear to tread. If you own a Land Rover, you have the keys to it all, and Land Rover culture encourages you to partake.   Dealerships (called Land Rover Centres) have little on-site mountain test courses to try before you buy. Afterward, you can attend one of three magnificent off-road driving schools—at the Quail Lodge in Carmel Valley, California; at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina; or at Fairmont Le Chateau Montebello in Quebec. The next stop is a full-blown Land Rover Adventure.

South Africa, a country three times the size of Great Britain, is perfect for adventure. It splits the frigid Atlantic from the warm waters of the Indian Ocean at the Cape Point, and depending on which side you’re on, offers subtropical vegetation, rugged mountain ranges, semi-desert, rain forest, scrubby bushveld, and perfectly groomed vineyards.   Its cities are modern, the political climate is fairly stable given its tumultuous past, its little towns are quaint, and the well-marked road system of the Western Cape is in better shape than Michigan’s. All that, and wild elephants in the backyard, too.

  What could be more perfect? That would be our guides, the staff of Kwa-Zulu Natal Land Rover Experience, the world’s first franchised Land Rover off-road training group, led by the irrepressible Rob Timcke, a chain-smoking, Red Bull-slugging firecracker. Timcke is a born raconteur who nevertheless inspires utter confidence in his ability to bring everyone back alive.   Not just a talker, Timcke was raised in a hunting camp in the old Eastern Transvaal on the Mozambique border, where his first language was Zulu. He spent time in the Congo during the really bad years as a South African army intelligence officer and became a professional hunter until 1993, when Communist Party leader Chris Hani was murdered and trophy hunters stayed home. Next, he set up tourist dives to view tiger and great white sharks. Without the cage.  

Timcke then jumped into teaching people the fine art of off-road driving. “I was always a bush person,” he says, “never a sea person. After nine years of getting really seasick, I found some idiot of a bank manager to buy my operation.” His cohorts include his stunning Akrikaaner wife, Carina. (“I slept my way into a job,” she cracks. “Unfortunately, my previous job paid much more.”)   Her brother Pierre Versfeld and top fly-fishing guide Antony Diplock complete the group. Diplock is not a big talker, but then he lives alone on an island near Namibia and, at the age of eighteen, participated in the tribal coming-of-age circumcision ritual with his boyhood Zulu friends. He doesn’t need to talk much.

Handshakes and hellos out of the way, we climb behind right-hand-mounted steering wheels and head south in convoy. To acclimate us to driving on the wrong side of the road, Timcke has sent us down the coast road past the rugged Twelve Apostles mountain chain flanking our left and the beach towns of Camps Bay and Llandudno on our right.   We climb the Chapman’s Peak toll road clinging to seaside cliffs and rumble through the shrubby natural fynbos (“fine bush”) habitat of the Cape of Good Hope nature reserve splashed with the bright spikey blooms of protea.

South Africans are rightfully proud of this, the densest of the world’s six floral kingdoms, counting between 8500 and 9000 species packed in an L-shaped area centered around Cape Town, no more than sixty miles wide. The camera car just misses a turtle in front of us. “Ooh, a fynbos tortoise,” chuckles Timcke. “They’re quite rare.”

The plan for a brief mountainside sojourn in the dirt is scratched due to a hard, fast storm blowing in from the south. This brings fond memories to Timcke: “Carina and I ran a safari in Botswana. We were camping when massive, massive thunderstorms rolled in. You could see lightning for miles.   She was setting the table with white linen, and I noticed the ground was alive. Scorpions and spiders. ‘You take me home and you take me home now!’ she yelled. This other time we were scouting in Zambia, and I sent her out to check the depth of the river crossing. She was chest-deep and turned and yelled, ‘What if there are crocs?’ I told her, ‘Don’t splash.’ ” What a gal.

We carry on to the mountain-ringed Cape Winelands surrounding Paarl, Franschhoek, and Stellenbosch (founded by Dutch and Huguenot settlers in the late 1600s) for a world-class lunch at Bosman’s Restaurant at Grande Roche, Africa’s only Relais Gourmand.   We taste the superb wines of Grand Roche, Boschendal, and Spier. Instructors become chauffeurs. Back in Cape Town, a native choir welcomes us to dinner at the prime minister’s historic residence. It seems that there’ll be no end to the eating and drinking. And drinking.

Real off-roading comes early the next day, and it is very, very good. Our LR3 has a 300-hp V-8 that shifts through a six-speed manu-matic and a hill-descent control system that won’t let the vehicle roll downhill unchecked with your foot off the brake—which is most helpful when it gets dicey. Terrain response allows the perfect tractive selection with the spin of a knob. I select the rock icon to climb into the pines, spotting a mongoose and a few klipspringers, which look like tiny reindeer perched on clothespins.   It looks like Colorado, I think. Baboons run out. Colorado, but with baboons. A sentry male barks and moves toward us, menacing, while the rest of the troop flees. “I raised four baboons,” says Timcke. “They ran loose at our safari lodge. The males are domineering and see humans as other primates. There will be one alpha male and lots of beta males. My mom, they hung on her leg. My dad was the dominant male. At maturity, they challenge the troop. This one, he’d demonstrate his strength to the weaker part of the troop. That would be my sister. He eventually nipped her, drew blood, and I got out the revolver and shot him.” OK, then.

Once through the forest, we dive into a thicket of grass and find that the rain has made a lake of our trail. Knowing that an LR3 can push through water high enough to break over the hood, I press confidently along, completely forgetting I am on highway tires. No problem. We come out in the fynbos, a riotous blast of purple, pink, yellow, and blue spikes, flowers your florist would die for.

Back to Stellenbosch for an open-air Indonesian and Cape Malay buffet with delicacies such as springbok saut and gnu stew. (I made that last one up.) In the city center, there’s a great crafts market, but I’ve decided to not tell you about buying the Congolese mask from the Zairian merchant, whom I somehow bargained up from 280 to 300 rand, about fifty dollars. Rob is suffused with mirth as I climb in with my precious cargo. The guy was sweating. He pleaded. I felt sorry for him. Forget it.

Luggage stowed, we head for an overnight in the coastal town of Knysna. We of course go the longest, most difficult way. There is a dirt trail all the way from Cape Town to Knysna, but we don’t patch into it until we turn off just west of Mossel Bay on Route 327, pass ostrich farms that line the road on both sides, and head into the Centre Valley of the Western Cape, the arid red earth and rocklands of the Little Karoo.

In the distance, two wild ostriches haul tailfeathers across the bleak plain. “Damn quick little buggers,” says Rob. “Sixty kph [37 mph] at full speed.” The road turns to lane, the lane to trail, and soon we are climbing past a sign that reads, ‘Men remove dentures, ladies fasten your bras.’ It’s the oxwagon autobahn, the path of Dutch settlers between 1689 and 1869. If they could do it, so can we.

We see wild Boerperds—native horses—and the most colorful birds imaginable. When we can look. Because now we are creeping downhill. The rocks are loose and have sharp edges, it is scary steep, and in some places the holes are so deep that both rear wheels lift off the ground in a pirouette straight from hell, which gives me shallow breathing. As I crawl from that horror, I loosen my sweaty stranglehold on the wheel, letting it spin free in my hands.

“You mustn’t do that or the ruts in the road will dictate where your tires will be,” Rob corrects me. I forgot he was even there, focusing as I am on the sharp rocks that line the downward slope of this path. I feel six inches too close to everything—the steering wheel, the pedals, the brakes, God. “Take the brake off,” says Rob. Huh?   I have to unhook all ten toes from their death grip on the pedal. I don’t want to. But the LR3 slowly finishes the gradual descent without my feet. We are at Bonniedale, a 1650-hectare guest farm that was named one of the top 4×4 destinations in South Africa for two years.   It’s open to the public for anything from a day’s driving fun to camping and horse trekking. Nico Hesterman, a former conservation officer, and his wife, Danette, have lived in this wilderness for eighteen years and have a traditional outdoor barbecue, or braai, waiting in camp for us. A cold, Namibia-brewed Windhoek lager would have to wait ’til that evening.  

We were sorely ready for the rain forest town of Knysna and its ultraluxurious, ultrachic Pezula Resort. Again we arrive with the camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hats, tromping through someone’s hushed art gallery of a hotel lobby.   But this time, we throw ourselves on the nearest beer bottle, nearly weeping with relief for having made it thus far unscathed. Okay, maybe that really nice lady with the Bottega Veneto bag and Gucci loafers, who rode serenely down that same awful hill, confident in her young son’s ability at the wheel, sipped white wine.  

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[zillowcondo]

A Foodie’s Guide of Where to Eat in Edinburgh

Edinburgh is blessed with a multitude of great places to eat and drink as well as local Scottish produce of the highest quality. We were recently invited to discover the region’s culinary delights on a foodie exploration of Edinburgh, Fife and St. Andrew’s by Visit Scotland.  We’ll be sharing more about our adventures along the picturesque coastline soon, but for now let’s head to Scotland’s capital for our guide of where to eat in Edinburgh.

Coffee and doughnuts at Baba Budan

If you’re a fan of doughnuts then don’t miss the delicious ones on offer at Baba Budan, Located in the new Waverley Arches development, they also have plans to bring their artisan coffee and doughnuts to markets across the city. The doughnut fillings change regularly – we were tempted by the chocolate one, after a tasty mushroom and poached eggs on toast. Coffee is equally flavourful, with Square Mile and Coffee Collective being their preferred suppliers.

Contemporary Indian dining at Dishoom

For Indian dining with a contemporary twist, you can’t beat Dishoom, one of our favourite places to eat in Edinburgh. Located in a handsome stone building on St Andrew Square, the restaurant is an homage to Sir Patrick Geddes, a Scottish botanist and town planner born in 1854. After improving living conditions in the Old Town in Edinburgh, he travelled to Bombay where he became a confidant of Gandhi and helped to plan many Indian cities.

Whilst Dishoom is new to Edinburgh, they’re very well established in London thanks to their succulent vegetable, fish and meat dishes. The atmosphere in their Edinburgh restaurant is vibrant with knowledgeable staff who will talk you through the many specialties on offer.

Try a lassi to go with your meal – these yoghurt based drinks are truly refreshing. Finish with kulfi on a stick, this Indian ice cream makes a perfect dessert.

Deli delights at Valvona and Crolla

Valvona & Crolla is well known as the oldest deli and Italian wine merchant in Scotland. From their foodhall situated on Elm Row to their new café on luxurious Multrees Walk and their outposts in Jenners department store and online delivery, they’ve been serving the UK since 1934. A family run business, they’re a great source for freshly baked bread, cheese, wine and much more. There’s even a book store that becomes a theatre during the Fringe Festival. We had the chance to sample their delicious produce, thanks to an innovative agreement with The Old Town Chambers. Our home from home in Edinburgh was a great base from which to explore the city and we’ll be writing about it in detail soon. Guests staying at these luxury serviced apartments can choose to receive a fantastic breakfast box with a lovely selection of food. The gold box decorated with green ribbon is a work of art in itself.

Inside you’ll find an array of cold meats, specialty cheeses, fresh fruit, bread, pastries and organic fruit juice. A great way to start your day in style!

Foraged food at Forage and Chatter

Forage & Chatter is a dining experience like no other, tucked away in Edinburgh’s West End. They focus on locally sourced Scottish cuisine, with much of the menu having been sourced by an expert licensed forager. Owner and manager Cameron McNeil called on his family to assist with the restaurant, and his mother has overseen the interior design. There are cosy booths decorated with Balmoral tweed and an airy conservatory to the rear with tables designed by Cameron’s brother, Nicholas.

They’re currently ranked number 2 on TripAdvisor, and aiming to be number 1. We can certainly see why they’re so popular – this is the first time that we’ve been asked if the temperature suited us in a restaurant, and that’s just one example of their attentiveness. As for the food, it comes from within a 25 mile radius with some ingredients having been foraged, such as the mushrooms in this mouthwatering carpaccio of goats cheese and herbs.

A starter of BBQ pork shoulder with crispy squid, radish and cauliflower was equally good, as was a main course of West Coast hake with onion, dill, courgettes and wild leeks. We enjoyed it with a tasty side of garlic and ginger broccoli. The wine list is made up of interesting wines that tell a story. They’re great value, like the set lunches at 2 courses for £14.95 and 3 courses for £17.95. For dessert, we recommend the Vahlrona Chocolate with malt and peanuts or the local Scottish cheese platter.

Italian small plates at Contini

You can’t help but be impressed by the beautiful exterior of Contini George Street. Formerly a bank, it’s now a cool restaurant that successfully combines Italian flare with the very best Scottish ingredients. Victor and Carina Contini run several popular eateries, including Cannonball near Edinburgh Castle and The Scottish Café and Restaurant within The Scottish National Gallery.

The interior is equally impressive, with an elegant bar where you can enjoy an aperitivo. They have a an excellent aperitivo menu with any 3 dishes of your choice served with a glass of Prosecco for £15 from Monday to Friday between 3 and 7 pm.

We were here though to sample the a la carte menu, with a lovely selection of dishes. Highlights included crispy risotto balls with mozzarella di bufala, stracchino cow’s milk cheese and wild garlic pesto, as well as the raw fennel salad with Tarocco orange, green olives and acacia honey. The pasta here is cooked al dente to retain flavour and our dish of fresh recchiette with Italian piccante sausage, cremini and dried porcini mushrooms with rocket, fresh cream and Parmigiano Reggiano was a real treat.

Quirky cafe at Roseleaf

Roseleaf Café is located in Leith near the port and Royal Yacht Britannia, so handy if you’re planning a visit there. Established in 2007, they’re family run and a cross between a gastro pub, cafe and bistro. Decorated with vintage furniture, hats from around the world and other quirky finds, they’re open from 10 am to 10 pm every day. Everything is cooked from scratch, using the best sustainable and seasonal produce.

Try a burger with Scottish mature cheddar and tomato relish, served in a homemade toasted sesame seed bun. The hand cut double dipped chips are pretty tasty too! Wash it down with a real ale or a Pot-Tail aka a cocktail in a teapot!

For dessert, the triple chocolate cake with Scottish raspberries and ice cream is a good pick, and their cakes are available to take home too. By the way, if you happen to be visiting Royal Yacht Britannia, make sure to try some of their delicious fudge which is made onboard.

Secret bar at Panda and Sons

Hidden in plain sight on Queen Street, you’ll find Panda & Sons speakeasy.

It’s disguised as a barber shop, but if you head down the stairs you’ll find a bookcase that’s a secret entrance to the bar behind. There are many eccentric touches inside, like hairdressing chairs, a vintage phone booth and cocktails served up in unusual containers. They also do a good line in craft beers and wine too.

Tea and chocolate tasting at Eteaket

Eteaket is making a name for itself as one of Scotland’s most successful food producers. Their high quality teas are in demand with restaurants and hotels worldwide. Members of the public can sample them in their Tea Room on Frederick Street and Concept Store on Rose Street. In the award winning Tea Room you’ll find a charming cafe open seven days a week as well as a range of eteaket teas to take away. Depending on the time of day, you might prefer a lunch dish like this succulent burger served on vintage crockery, or their renowned afternoon tea. The friendly staff bring you a timer with your cuppa, so that your tea is infused for just the right duration. If you fancy something different, there are tea cocktails, iced teas and tea lattes.

Over on Rose Street, eteaket’s Concept Store has a fantastic array of tea ware and gifts. We recommend the Tea Flight, a pairing of 5 different teas and tea-infused chocolate – it’s a real eye opener. Founder Erica Moore or one of her friendly colleagues will take you on a journey through the world of tea, starting with the tea plant itself. They adapt the tea tasting to your preferences and there are some interesting creations to try such as their Isle of Harris Gin Tea. Rest assured that it’s non-alcoholic and caffeine free!

Watch as the tea is brewed before your eyes in a Syphon machine and enjoy the innovative flavours of eteaket’s loose leaf teas and chocolate.

Other Places to Eat in Edinburgh

We didn’t get time to visit these culinary hotspots also recommended to us:

• The Kitchin – Tom Kitchin’s canalside restaurant in Leith

• Le Roi Fou – Jerome Henry’s French restaurant on Forth Street

• Martin Wishart – Michelin starred dining in Leith

• The Wee Restaurant – Scottish cuisine on Frederick Street

• Timberyard – locally sourced food in a warehouse space

However, we’d love to hear your recommendations of where to eat in Edinburgh, as we’ll definitely be back!

The post A Foodie’s Guide of Where to Eat in Edinburgh appeared first on Luxury Columnist.

A Foodie’s Guide of Where to Eat in Edinburgh published first on http://ift.tt/2pewpEF

[eddiejpoplar]

AUTOMOBiLE Flashback: Mountains Climbed Lions Tamed

The bad thing about starting out on your first great South African off-road driving and safari adventure is that you and your camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hat look unbelievably stupid clomping through the gleaming marble lobby of Cape Town’s prestigious Table Bay Hotel. Hmm. Those childhood “Tarzan” movies might not have been the best source of wardrobe tips.

Once outside, we blend in so much better. Lining the hotel’s circular drive are a row of rugged Land Rover LR3s, one in Zambezi silver and four in Tangiers orange (painted in the livery of the recent G4 global adventure challenge), each accompanied by official instructor/guides dressed in matching uniforms of blue long-sleeved shirts and gray trousers. Behind them is a coterie of Land Rover North America handlers, complete with camera crew ready to record the five-star safari ahead.  

This is why we’d traveled halfway around the world. Automobile Magazine had been invited to join a band of well-heeled American adventurers who’d ponied up $8995 each (not including airfare) for the privilege of being terrified into a state of adventure nirvana for the next six days and nights. They are dressed like me, with the exception of a Bottega Veneto handbag here and a pair of Gucci loafers and Prada sunglasses there.

No, you will not meet beer-swilling, skinny-dipping, Jeep Rubicon- type revelers on the Land Rover trail. Our fellow travelers are retired captains of industry and entrepreneurs in aircraft maintenance and real-estate development. But make no mistake: over the course of the next week, in between the gourmet meals and fine wines of the Western Cape, men and women alike will slip from luxurious 1000-thread-count cocoons to muscle their pricey SUVs over perilous mountain passes, to ford rivers presumably teeming with crocodiles, and to part the dense swamp- grass home of black mambas, puff adders, and spitting cobras. Then drink.

There are a few off-road paradises left in the world, and Land Rover knows where to find them, partly because its stalwart products have already blazed those trails and can still be found merrily rolling along where pack mules fear to tread. If you own a Land Rover, you have the keys to it all, and Land Rover culture encourages you to partake.   Dealerships (called Land Rover Centres) have little on-site mountain test courses to try before you buy. Afterward, you can attend one of three magnificent off-road driving schools—at the Quail Lodge in Carmel Valley, California; at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina; or at Fairmont Le Chateau Montebello in Quebec. The next stop is a full-blown Land Rover Adventure.

South Africa, a country three times the size of Great Britain, is perfect for adventure. It splits the frigid Atlantic from the warm waters of the Indian Ocean at the Cape Point, and depending on which side you’re on, offers subtropical vegetation, rugged mountain ranges, semi-desert, rain forest, scrubby bushveld, and perfectly groomed vineyards.   Its cities are modern, the political climate is fairly stable given its tumultuous past, its little towns are quaint, and the well-marked road system of the Western Cape is in better shape than Michigan’s. All that, and wild elephants in the backyard, too.

  What could be more perfect? That would be our guides, the staff of Kwa-Zulu Natal Land Rover Experience, the world’s first franchised Land Rover off-road training group, led by the irrepressible Rob Timcke, a chain-smoking, Red Bull-slugging firecracker. Timcke is a born raconteur who nevertheless inspires utter confidence in his ability to bring everyone back alive.   Not just a talker, Timcke was raised in a hunting camp in the old Eastern Transvaal on the Mozambique border, where his first language was Zulu. He spent time in the Congo during the really bad years as a South African army intelligence officer and became a professional hunter until 1993, when Communist Party leader Chris Hani was murdered and trophy hunters stayed home. Next, he set up tourist dives to view tiger and great white sharks. Without the cage.  

Timcke then jumped into teaching people the fine art of off-road driving. “I was always a bush person,” he says, “never a sea person. After nine years of getting really seasick, I found some idiot of a bank manager to buy my operation.” His cohorts include his stunning Akrikaaner wife, Carina. (“I slept my way into a job,” she cracks. “Unfortunately, my previous job paid much more.”)   Her brother Pierre Versfeld and top fly-fishing guide Antony Diplock complete the group. Diplock is not a big talker, but then he lives alone on an island near Namibia and, at the age of eighteen, participated in the tribal coming-of-age circumcision ritual with his boyhood Zulu friends. He doesn’t need to talk much.

Handshakes and hellos out of the way, we climb behind right-hand-mounted steering wheels and head south in convoy. To acclimate us to driving on the wrong side of the road, Timcke has sent us down the coast road past the rugged Twelve Apostles mountain chain flanking our left and the beach towns of Camps Bay and Llandudno on our right.   We climb the Chapman’s Peak toll road clinging to seaside cliffs and rumble through the shrubby natural fynbos (“fine bush”) habitat of the Cape of Good Hope nature reserve splashed with the bright spikey blooms of protea.

South Africans are rightfully proud of this, the densest of the world’s six floral kingdoms, counting between 8500 and 9000 species packed in an L-shaped area centered around Cape Town, no more than sixty miles wide. The camera car just misses a turtle in front of us. “Ooh, a fynbos tortoise,” chuckles Timcke. “They’re quite rare.”

The plan for a brief mountainside sojourn in the dirt is scratched due to a hard, fast storm blowing in from the south. This brings fond memories to Timcke: “Carina and I ran a safari in Botswana. We were camping when massive, massive thunderstorms rolled in. You could see lightning for miles.   She was setting the table with white linen, and I noticed the ground was alive. Scorpions and spiders. ‘You take me home and you take me home now!’ she yelled. This other time we were scouting in Zambia, and I sent her out to check the depth of the river crossing. She was chest-deep and turned and yelled, ‘What if there are crocs?’ I told her, ‘Don’t splash.’ ” What a gal.

We carry on to the mountain-ringed Cape Winelands surrounding Paarl, Franschhoek, and Stellenbosch (founded by Dutch and Huguenot settlers in the late 1600s) for a world-class lunch at Bosman’s Restaurant at Grande Roche, Africa’s only Relais Gourmand.   We taste the superb wines of Grand Roche, Boschendal, and Spier. Instructors become chauffeurs. Back in Cape Town, a native choir welcomes us to dinner at the prime minister’s historic residence. It seems that there’ll be no end to the eating and drinking. And drinking.

Real off-roading comes early the next day, and it is very, very good. Our LR3 has a 300-hp V-8 that shifts through a six-speed manu-matic and a hill-descent control system that won’t let the vehicle roll downhill unchecked with your foot off the brake—which is most helpful when it gets dicey. Terrain response allows the perfect tractive selection with the spin of a knob. I select the rock icon to climb into the pines, spotting a mongoose and a few klipspringers, which look like tiny reindeer perched on clothespins.   It looks like Colorado, I think. Baboons run out. Colorado, but with baboons. A sentry male barks and moves toward us, menacing, while the rest of the troop flees. “I raised four baboons,” says Timcke. “They ran loose at our safari lodge. The males are domineering and see humans as other primates. There will be one alpha male and lots of beta males. My mom, they hung on her leg. My dad was the dominant male. At maturity, they challenge the troop. This one, he’d demonstrate his strength to the weaker part of the troop. That would be my sister. He eventually nipped her, drew blood, and I got out the revolver and shot him.” OK, then.

Once through the forest, we dive into a thicket of grass and find that the rain has made a lake of our trail. Knowing that an LR3 can push through water high enough to break over the hood, I press confidently along, completely forgetting I am on highway tires. No problem. We come out in the fynbos, a riotous blast of purple, pink, yellow, and blue spikes, flowers your florist would die for.

Back to Stellenbosch for an open-air Indonesian and Cape Malay buffet with delicacies such as springbok saut and gnu stew. (I made that last one up.) In the city center, there’s a great crafts market, but I’ve decided to not tell you about buying the Congolese mask from the Zairian merchant, whom I somehow bargained up from 280 to 300 rand, about fifty dollars. Rob is suffused with mirth as I climb in with my precious cargo. The guy was sweating. He pleaded. I felt sorry for him. Forget it.

Luggage stowed, we head for an overnight in the coastal town of Knysna. We of course go the longest, most difficult way. There is a dirt trail all the way from Cape Town to Knysna, but we don’t patch into it until we turn off just west of Mossel Bay on Route 327, pass ostrich farms that line the road on both sides, and head into the Centre Valley of the Western Cape, the arid red earth and rocklands of the Little Karoo.

In the distance, two wild ostriches haul tailfeathers across the bleak plain. “Damn quick little buggers,” says Rob. “Sixty kph [37 mph] at full speed.” The road turns to lane, the lane to trail, and soon we are climbing past a sign that reads, ‘Men remove dentures, ladies fasten your bras.’ It’s the oxwagon autobahn, the path of Dutch settlers between 1689 and 1869. If they could do it, so can we.

We see wild Boerperds—native horses—and the most colorful birds imaginable. When we can look. Because now we are creeping downhill. The rocks are loose and have sharp edges, it is scary steep, and in some places the holes are so deep that both rear wheels lift off the ground in a pirouette straight from hell, which gives me shallow breathing. As I crawl from that horror, I loosen my sweaty stranglehold on the wheel, letting it spin free in my hands.

“You mustn’t do that or the ruts in the road will dictate where your tires will be,” Rob corrects me. I forgot he was even there, focusing as I am on the sharp rocks that line the downward slope of this path. I feel six inches too close to everything—the steering wheel, the pedals, the brakes, God. “Take the brake off,” says Rob. Huh?   I have to unhook all ten toes from their death grip on the pedal. I don’t want to. But the LR3 slowly finishes the gradual descent without my feet. We are at Bonniedale, a 1650-hectare guest farm that was named one of the top 4×4 destinations in South Africa for two years.   It’s open to the public for anything from a day’s driving fun to camping and horse trekking. Nico Hesterman, a former conservation officer, and his wife, Danette, have lived in this wilderness for eighteen years and have a traditional outdoor barbecue, or braai, waiting in camp for us. A cold, Namibia-brewed Windhoek lager would have to wait ’til that evening.  

We were sorely ready for the rain forest town of Knysna and its ultraluxurious, ultrachic Pezula Resort. Again we arrive with the camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hats, tromping through someone’s hushed art gallery of a hotel lobby.   But this time, we throw ourselves on the nearest beer bottle, nearly weeping with relief for having made it thus far unscathed. Okay, maybe that really nice lady with the Bottega Veneto bag and Gucci loafers, who rode serenely down that same awful hill, confident in her young son’s ability at the wheel, sipped white wine.  

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[jonathanbelloblog]

AUTOMOBiLE Flashback: Mountains Climbed Lions Tamed

The bad thing about starting out on your first great South African off-road driving and safari adventure is that you and your camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hat look unbelievably stupid clomping through the gleaming marble lobby of Cape Town’s prestigious Table Bay Hotel. Hmm. Those childhood “Tarzan” movies might not have been the best source of wardrobe tips.

Once outside, we blend in so much better. Lining the hotel’s circular drive are a row of rugged Land Rover LR3s, one in Zambezi silver and four in Tangiers orange (painted in the livery of the recent G4 global adventure challenge), each accompanied by official instructor/guides dressed in matching uniforms of blue long-sleeved shirts and gray trousers. Behind them is a coterie of Land Rover North America handlers, complete with camera crew ready to record the five-star safari ahead.  

This is why we’d traveled halfway around the world. Automobile Magazine had been invited to join a band of well-heeled American adventurers who’d ponied up $8995 each (not including airfare) for the privilege of being terrified into a state of adventure nirvana for the next six days and nights. They are dressed like me, with the exception of a Bottega Veneto handbag here and a pair of Gucci loafers and Prada sunglasses there.

No, you will not meet beer-swilling, skinny-dipping, Jeep Rubicon- type revelers on the Land Rover trail. Our fellow travelers are retired captains of industry and entrepreneurs in aircraft maintenance and real-estate development. But make no mistake: over the course of the next week, in between the gourmet meals and fine wines of the Western Cape, men and women alike will slip from luxurious 1000-thread-count cocoons to muscle their pricey SUVs over perilous mountain passes, to ford rivers presumably teeming with crocodiles, and to part the dense swamp- grass home of black mambas, puff adders, and spitting cobras. Then drink.

There are a few off-road paradises left in the world, and Land Rover knows where to find them, partly because its stalwart products have already blazed those trails and can still be found merrily rolling along where pack mules fear to tread. If you own a Land Rover, you have the keys to it all, and Land Rover culture encourages you to partake.   Dealerships (called Land Rover Centres) have little on-site mountain test courses to try before you buy. Afterward, you can attend one of three magnificent off-road driving schools—at the Quail Lodge in Carmel Valley, California; at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina; or at Fairmont Le Chateau Montebello in Quebec. The next stop is a full-blown Land Rover Adventure.

South Africa, a country three times the size of Great Britain, is perfect for adventure. It splits the frigid Atlantic from the warm waters of the Indian Ocean at the Cape Point, and depending on which side you’re on, offers subtropical vegetation, rugged mountain ranges, semi-desert, rain forest, scrubby bushveld, and perfectly groomed vineyards.   Its cities are modern, the political climate is fairly stable given its tumultuous past, its little towns are quaint, and the well-marked road system of the Western Cape is in better shape than Michigan’s. All that, and wild elephants in the backyard, too.

  What could be more perfect? That would be our guides, the staff of Kwa-Zulu Natal Land Rover Experience, the world’s first franchised Land Rover off-road training group, led by the irrepressible Rob Timcke, a chain-smoking, Red Bull-slugging firecracker. Timcke is a born raconteur who nevertheless inspires utter confidence in his ability to bring everyone back alive.   Not just a talker, Timcke was raised in a hunting camp in the old Eastern Transvaal on the Mozambique border, where his first language was Zulu. He spent time in the Congo during the really bad years as a South African army intelligence officer and became a professional hunter until 1993, when Communist Party leader Chris Hani was murdered and trophy hunters stayed home. Next, he set up tourist dives to view tiger and great white sharks. Without the cage.  

Timcke then jumped into teaching people the fine art of off-road driving. “I was always a bush person,” he says, “never a sea person. After nine years of getting really seasick, I found some idiot of a bank manager to buy my operation.” His cohorts include his stunning Akrikaaner wife, Carina. (“I slept my way into a job,” she cracks. “Unfortunately, my previous job paid much more.”)   Her brother Pierre Versfeld and top fly-fishing guide Antony Diplock complete the group. Diplock is not a big talker, but then he lives alone on an island near Namibia and, at the age of eighteen, participated in the tribal coming-of-age circumcision ritual with his boyhood Zulu friends. He doesn’t need to talk much.

Handshakes and hellos out of the way, we climb behind right-hand-mounted steering wheels and head south in convoy. To acclimate us to driving on the wrong side of the road, Timcke has sent us down the coast road past the rugged Twelve Apostles mountain chain flanking our left and the beach towns of Camps Bay and Llandudno on our right.   We climb the Chapman’s Peak toll road clinging to seaside cliffs and rumble through the shrubby natural fynbos (“fine bush”) habitat of the Cape of Good Hope nature reserve splashed with the bright spikey blooms of protea.

South Africans are rightfully proud of this, the densest of the world’s six floral kingdoms, counting between 8500 and 9000 species packed in an L-shaped area centered around Cape Town, no more than sixty miles wide. The camera car just misses a turtle in front of us. “Ooh, a fynbos tortoise,” chuckles Timcke. “They’re quite rare.”

The plan for a brief mountainside sojourn in the dirt is scratched due to a hard, fast storm blowing in from the south. This brings fond memories to Timcke: “Carina and I ran a safari in Botswana. We were camping when massive, massive thunderstorms rolled in. You could see lightning for miles.   She was setting the table with white linen, and I noticed the ground was alive. Scorpions and spiders. ‘You take me home and you take me home now!’ she yelled. This other time we were scouting in Zambia, and I sent her out to check the depth of the river crossing. She was chest-deep and turned and yelled, ‘What if there are crocs?’ I told her, ‘Don’t splash.’ ” What a gal.

We carry on to the mountain-ringed Cape Winelands surrounding Paarl, Franschhoek, and Stellenbosch (founded by Dutch and Huguenot settlers in the late 1600s) for a world-class lunch at Bosman’s Restaurant at Grande Roche, Africa’s only Relais Gourmand.   We taste the superb wines of Grand Roche, Boschendal, and Spier. Instructors become chauffeurs. Back in Cape Town, a native choir welcomes us to dinner at the prime minister’s historic residence. It seems that there’ll be no end to the eating and drinking. And drinking.

Real off-roading comes early the next day, and it is very, very good. Our LR3 has a 300-hp V-8 that shifts through a six-speed manu-matic and a hill-descent control system that won’t let the vehicle roll downhill unchecked with your foot off the brake—which is most helpful when it gets dicey. Terrain response allows the perfect tractive selection with the spin of a knob. I select the rock icon to climb into the pines, spotting a mongoose and a few klipspringers, which look like tiny reindeer perched on clothespins.   It looks like Colorado, I think. Baboons run out. Colorado, but with baboons. A sentry male barks and moves toward us, menacing, while the rest of the troop flees. “I raised four baboons,” says Timcke. “They ran loose at our safari lodge. The males are domineering and see humans as other primates. There will be one alpha male and lots of beta males. My mom, they hung on her leg. My dad was the dominant male. At maturity, they challenge the troop. This one, he’d demonstrate his strength to the weaker part of the troop. That would be my sister. He eventually nipped her, drew blood, and I got out the revolver and shot him.” OK, then.

Once through the forest, we dive into a thicket of grass and find that the rain has made a lake of our trail. Knowing that an LR3 can push through water high enough to break over the hood, I press confidently along, completely forgetting I am on highway tires. No problem. We come out in the fynbos, a riotous blast of purple, pink, yellow, and blue spikes, flowers your florist would die for.

Back to Stellenbosch for an open-air Indonesian and Cape Malay buffet with delicacies such as springbok saut and gnu stew. (I made that last one up.) In the city center, there’s a great crafts market, but I’ve decided to not tell you about buying the Congolese mask from the Zairian merchant, whom I somehow bargained up from 280 to 300 rand, about fifty dollars. Rob is suffused with mirth as I climb in with my precious cargo. The guy was sweating. He pleaded. I felt sorry for him. Forget it.

Luggage stowed, we head for an overnight in the coastal town of Knysna. We of course go the longest, most difficult way. There is a dirt trail all the way from Cape Town to Knysna, but we don’t patch into it until we turn off just west of Mossel Bay on Route 327, pass ostrich farms that line the road on both sides, and head into the Centre Valley of the Western Cape, the arid red earth and rocklands of the Little Karoo.

In the distance, two wild ostriches haul tailfeathers across the bleak plain. “Damn quick little buggers,” says Rob. “Sixty kph [37 mph] at full speed.” The road turns to lane, the lane to trail, and soon we are climbing past a sign that reads, ‘Men remove dentures, ladies fasten your bras.’ It’s the oxwagon autobahn, the path of Dutch settlers between 1689 and 1869. If they could do it, so can we.

We see wild Boerperds—native horses—and the most colorful birds imaginable. When we can look. Because now we are creeping downhill. The rocks are loose and have sharp edges, it is scary steep, and in some places the holes are so deep that both rear wheels lift off the ground in a pirouette straight from hell, which gives me shallow breathing. As I crawl from that horror, I loosen my sweaty stranglehold on the wheel, letting it spin free in my hands.

“You mustn’t do that or the ruts in the road will dictate where your tires will be,” Rob corrects me. I forgot he was even there, focusing as I am on the sharp rocks that line the downward slope of this path. I feel six inches too close to everything—the steering wheel, the pedals, the brakes, God. “Take the brake off,” says Rob. Huh?   I have to unhook all ten toes from their death grip on the pedal. I don’t want to. But the LR3 slowly finishes the gradual descent without my feet. We are at Bonniedale, a 1650-hectare guest farm that was named one of the top 4×4 destinations in South Africa for two years.   It’s open to the public for anything from a day’s driving fun to camping and horse trekking. Nico Hesterman, a former conservation officer, and his wife, Danette, have lived in this wilderness for eighteen years and have a traditional outdoor barbecue, or braai, waiting in camp for us. A cold, Namibia-brewed Windhoek lager would have to wait ’til that evening.  

We were sorely ready for the rain forest town of Knysna and its ultraluxurious, ultrachic Pezula Resort. Again we arrive with the camouflage pants, lug-soled hiking boots, and zebra-trimmed bush hats, tromping through someone’s hushed art gallery of a hotel lobby.   But this time, we throw ourselves on the nearest beer bottle, nearly weeping with relief for having made it thus far unscathed. Okay, maybe that really nice lady with the Bottega Veneto bag and Gucci loafers, who rode serenely down that same awful hill, confident in her young son’s ability at the wheel, sipped white wine.  

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[zillowcondo]

A Foodie’s Guide of Where to Eat in Edinburgh

Edinburgh is blessed with a multitude of great places to eat and drink as well as local Scottish produce of the highest quality. We were recently invited to discover the region’s culinary delights on a foodie exploration of Edinburgh, Fife and St. Andrew’s by Visit Scotland.  We’ll be sharing more about our adventures along the picturesque coastline soon, but for now let’s head to Scotland’s capital for our guide of where to eat in Edinburgh.

Coffee and doughnuts at Baba Budan

If you’re a fan of doughnuts then don’t miss the delicious ones on offer at Baba Budan, Located in the new Waverley Arches development, they also have plans to bring their artisan coffee and doughnuts to markets across the city. The doughnut fillings change regularly – we were tempted by the chocolate one, after a tasty mushroom and poached eggs on toast. Coffee is equally flavourful, with Square Mile and Coffee Collective being their preferred suppliers.

Contemporary Indian dining at Dishoom

For Indian dining with a contemporary twist, you can’t beat Dishoom, one of our favourite places to eat in Edinburgh. Located in a handsome stone building on St Andrew Square, the restaurant is an homage to Sir Patrick Geddes, a Scottish botanist and town planner born in 1854. After improving living conditions in the Old Town in Edinburgh, he travelled to Bombay where he became a confidant of Gandhi and helped to plan many Indian cities.

Whilst Dishoom is new to Edinburgh, they’re very well established in London thanks to their succulent vegetable, fish and meat dishes. The atmosphere in their Edinburgh restaurant is vibrant with knowledgeable staff who will talk you through the many specialties on offer.

Try a lassi to go with your meal – these yoghurt based drinks are truly refreshing. Finish with kulfi on a stick, this Indian ice cream makes a perfect dessert.

Deli delights at Valvona and Crolla

Valvona & Crolla is well known as the oldest deli and Italian wine merchant in Scotland. From their foodhall situated on Elm Row to their new café on luxurious Multrees Walk and their outposts in Jenners department store and online delivery, they’ve been serving the UK since 1934. A family run business, they’re a great source for freshly baked bread, cheese, wine and much more. There’s even a book store that becomes a theatre during the Fringe Festival. We had the chance to sample their delicious produce, thanks to an innovative agreement with The Old Town Chambers. Our home from home in Edinburgh was a great base from which to explore the city and we’ll be writing about it in detail soon. Guests staying at these luxury serviced apartments can choose to receive a fantastic breakfast box with a lovely selection of food. The gold box decorated with green ribbon is a work of art in itself.

Inside you’ll find an array of cold meats, specialty cheeses, fresh fruit, bread, pastries and organic fruit juice. A great way to start your day in style!

Foraged food at Forage and Chatter

Forage & Chatter is a dining experience like no other, tucked away in Edinburgh’s West End. They focus on locally sourced Scottish cuisine, with much of the menu having been sourced by an expert licensed forager. Owner and manager Cameron McNeil called on his family to assist with the restaurant, and his mother has overseen the interior design. There are cosy booths decorated with Balmoral tweed and an airy conservatory to the rear with tables designed by Cameron’s brother, Nicholas.

They’re currently ranked number 2 on TripAdvisor, and aiming to be number 1. We can certainly see why they’re so popular – this is the first time that we’ve been asked if the temperature suited us in a restaurant, and that’s just one example of their attentiveness. As for the food, it comes from within a 25 mile radius with some ingredients having been foraged, such as the mushrooms in this mouthwatering carpaccio of goats cheese and herbs.

A starter of BBQ pork shoulder with crispy squid, radish and cauliflower was equally good, as was a main course of West Coast hake with onion, dill, courgettes and wild leeks. We enjoyed it with a tasty side of garlic and ginger broccoli. The wine list is made up of interesting wines that tell a story. They’re great value, like the set lunches at 2 courses for £14.95 and 3 courses for £17.95. For dessert, we recommend the Vahlrona Chocolate with malt and peanuts or the local Scottish cheese platter.

Italian small plates at Contini

You can’t help but be impressed by the beautiful exterior of Contini George Street. Formerly a bank, it’s now a cool restaurant that successfully combines Italian flare with the very best Scottish ingredients. Victor and Carina Contini run several popular eateries, including Cannonball near Edinburgh Castle and The Scottish Café and Restaurant within The Scottish National Gallery.

The interior is equally impressive, with an elegant bar where you can enjoy an aperitivo. They have a an excellent aperitivo menu with any 3 dishes of your choice served with a glass of Prosecco for £15 from Monday to Friday between 3 and 7 pm.

We were here though to sample the a la carte menu, with a lovely selection of dishes. Highlights included crispy risotto balls with mozzarella di bufala, stracchino cow’s milk cheese and wild garlic pesto, as well as the raw fennel salad with Tarocco orange, green olives and acacia honey. The pasta here is cooked al dente to retain flavour and our dish of fresh recchiette with Italian piccante sausage, cremini and dried porcini mushrooms with rocket, fresh cream and Parmigiano Reggiano was a real treat.

Quirky cafe at Roseleaf

Roseleaf Café is located in Leith near the port and Royal Yacht Britannia, so handy if you’re planning a visit there. Established in 2007, they’re family run and a cross between a gastro pub, cafe and bistro. Decorated with vintage furniture, hats from around the world and other quirky finds, they’re open from 10 am to 10 pm every day. Everything is cooked from scratch, using the best sustainable and seasonal produce.

Try a burger with Scottish mature cheddar and tomato relish, served in a homemade toasted sesame seed bun. The hand cut double dipped chips are pretty tasty too! Wash it down with a real ale or a Pot-Tail aka a cocktail in a teapot!

For dessert, the triple chocolate cake with Scottish raspberries and ice cream is a good pick, and their cakes are available to take home too. By the way, if you happen to be visiting Royal Yacht Britannia, make sure to try some of their delicious fudge which is made onboard.

Secret bar at Panda and Sons

Hidden in plain sight on Queen Street, you’ll find Panda & Sons speakeasy.

It’s disguised as a barber shop, but if you head down the stairs you’ll find a bookcase that’s a secret entrance to the bar behind. There are many eccentric touches inside, like hairdressing chairs, a vintage phone booth and cocktails served up in unusual containers. They also do a good line in craft beers and wine too.

Tea and chocolate tasting at Eteaket

Eteaket is making a name for itself as one of Scotland’s most successful food producers. Their high quality teas are in demand with restaurants and hotels worldwide. Members of the public can sample them in their Tea Room on Frederick Street and Concept Store on Rose Street. In the award winning Tea Room you’ll find a charming cafe open seven days a week as well as a range of eteaket teas to take away. Depending on the time of day, you might prefer a lunch dish like this succulent burger served on vintage crockery, or their renowned afternoon tea. The friendly staff bring you a timer with your cuppa, so that your tea is infused for just the right duration. If you fancy something different, there are tea cocktails, iced teas and tea lattes.

Over on Rose Street, eteaket’s Concept Store has a fantastic array of tea ware and gifts. We recommend the Tea Flight, a pairing of 5 different teas and tea-infused chocolate – it’s a real eye opener. Founder Erica Moore or one of her friendly colleagues will take you on a journey through the world of tea, starting with the tea plant itself. They adapt the tea tasting to your preferences and there are some interesting creations to try such as their Isle of Harris Gin Tea. Rest assured that it’s non-alcoholic and caffeine free!

Watch as the tea is brewed before your eyes in a Syphon machine and enjoy the innovative flavours of eteaket’s loose leaf teas and chocolate.

Other Places to Eat in Edinburgh

We didn’t get time to visit these culinary hotspots also recommended to us:

• The Kitchin – Tom Kitchin’s canalside restaurant in Leith

• Le Roi Fou – Jerome Henry’s French restaurant on Forth Street

• Martin Wishart – Michelin starred dining in Leith

• The Wee Restaurant – Scottish cuisine on Frederick Street

• Timberyard – locally sourced food in a warehouse space

However, we’d love to hear your recommendations of where to eat in Edinburgh, as we’ll definitely be back!

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