Italian dinner

Dinner with blogger friend Philip on Tuesday night in London was as usual most enjoyable. After a bit of wandering around in the surprisingly warm evening we decided on Ristorante Sirena on James Street. A classic Italian restaurant with traditional home made cooking. While ordering we nibbled on bread, olives, chopped mozzarella and tomatoes. Having never liked olives I tried again, but no. I do not like olives. Green or black, it doesn’t matter. Olives are just not for me.

For starters we both ordered bruschetta, which turned out to be two big slices of bread filled with loads of fresh tomatoes. One thing was for sure, we ere not going to leave this place hungry. As main course Philip decided on home made ravioli while I went with smoked salmon in creamy sauce with fettuccine. A sauce so creamy I managed to splash Philip’s tie across the table.

Right in the middle of a discussion about WWII and Sweden being neutral or not, six men came downstairs where we were sitting. Pretty fast I realised they were Swedish and after a couple of more minutes I understood that they were from Gothenburg. Thankfully I was sitting with my back to them, but I noticed in a mirror how one of them were listing while we continued talking about the Swedish Minister of Trade who resigned after only eight days as minister. And the Minister of Culture who resigned after ten days. Swedish politicians at their best…

After finishing off the very tasty wine (I don’t remember the name. Just that it was very dark red close to almost purple) we strolled over to a pub for a last drink before saying goodbye. A pub without any Swedes, as far as I noticed. Because for a while there I felt like my countrymen were following me. The barmaid in the pub we went to before dinner was Swedish and then the six men at the restaurant. Not that very unusual really. London has a quite a big Swedish community (around 25000 I think). But when I’m in London I like to be non-Swedish. At least for a while.