Sorry, US. You can take a lesson from the Brits about how to run a food festival. The annual Taste of London restaurant festival was held yesterday in Regent’s Park, just a few blocks from my daughter’s flat. A mind boggling array of restaurants and pubs were represented. Many of them had created charming outdoor eating areas. One pub used their own furniture (bar included) to create what looked like their actual pub without the walls or roof. I am a total foodie when it comes to anything a typical eight year old would consume if left to his own devices. This is not to say I didn’t appreciate the amazing fare, things like pork cheeks (melt in your mouth) and scrambled eggs made with truffle paste (breakfast will never be the same again). But after a short while of consuming culinary wonders I found myself scanning the horizon for the gelato stalls.
While the adults searched out real food, I took my grandson on a dessert hunt. And then I saw it: A Buffalo Milk Ice Cream stall. I love buffalo anything. The animal, not the city. Since I was a Plains Indian in several past lives (This is my blog. I can write anything I want to), I am naturally drawn to buffalo. I have been within a few feet of a real live buffalo. I love buffalo burgers. I favor old nickels. I have never heard of buffalo milk ice cream. I asked for a sample. Coffee, to be exact. The world stood still. My taste buds started singing love songs from 1930s musicals. I was told that the coffee flavor wasn’t being marketed yet, so they were only giving samples. I love the Brits. I was given four (or was it five?) humongous samples that approximated a half gallon in volume. My grandson stared at me bug eyed from his stroller. I think even he was appalled. I don’t care. Just don’t tell Grandma’s secrets. There are sure to be many more to come.