Leicester, London & Delft

October 1 The flight landed early, doors opened at 6:41am, and I was off the plane by 6:45. With a restroom break, a trudge to immigration, and a checked bag collected, I was through the green doors, and spit out into the arrivals hall and grabbed a seat by 7:10am.

Twenty-five minutes! That was so much quicker than I'd expected or planned for. At that moment there was nothing to be in a hurry for and I could sit. Fired off a few texts letting folks at home know I'd arrived. By 8am I was on the Elizabeth line, by 9am I was at St Pancras and boarded the 11:05 EMR train to Leicester.

Leicester was my first city on this trip and I arrived at 12:15. My accommodations were at the Gresham, an aparthotel a half mile walk from the station. Check-in wasn't until 3, they said come back at 2:30, and I dropped my bags there to wander. Found the local McDonald's and had lunch. Ha ha ha yes, my last meal stateside was a fry up and my first UK meal was MickyD's. For whatever reason McDonald's as a first meal has become traditional. I don't know why, but it is. The last time I graced a McDonald's was in Berlin Hbf a year ago.

I settled into my room and unpacked. At this point I'd been moving for about 32 hours so I set my alarm for an hour's nap. Afterwards I walked over to a Tesco Express for groceries and something for supper. Back in the room, I made a cup of coffee, and turned on the local TV. It was a chance to unwind before turning in by 10pm.

What resulted was the single best night's sleep I have ever had since my accident. No stirring, no waking in the middle of the night, no alarms set and awake about 8:15. Ten hours of wonderful undisturbed sleep.

October 2, enjoyed a relaxed breakfast and a couple cups of coffee. I planned my day and headed out to the Richard III Visitor Centre, spending several hours focused on the Wars of the Roses, the archeological story, and Philippa Langley’s successful tilt against her windmill. I had a nice lunch at the center's café, the White Boar. The carrot & coriander soup, pasty & ginger beer was pretty awesome. Then went over to Leicester Cathedral to visit the grave of Richard III.

At supper time I found my way into a tiny little hole in the wall family run restaurant, Viva El Burrito. This is precisely the kind of place I enjoy and love. Nothing pretentious. It is a husband and wife team who own and work the shop with a handful of tables and a small menu of burritos, tacos, and nachos, offering the standard sorts of fillings and toppings. It was such a wonderful experience to walk into a place where she was genuinely joyful that people chose to come into her shop and took much pleasure in preparing food for each customer. She also wanted to make sure I knew they'd been there for ten years. I had a seat and she asked what I'd like in my burrito, including “hot salsa?” oh yes, “jalapeños?“ absolutely! Wonderful, well made and tasty.

October 3, up and breakfast made, then I was off to the Leicester train station heading to Melton Mowbray. I'd booked a class at Brockleby's Bakery, learning to make pork pies. This was my opportunity to learn hands-on how to make hot water lard paste. A wonderful experience and well managed class. I wrote copious notes. Ended up in a conversation with another couple in the class who had driven in from Norfolk. They were interested in why I'd come to Leicester, were curious if I was finding things expensive, and where I was from. They were excited that I was from Virginia, because back in April they'd road tripped through the state. They'd come especially to visit Norfolk, VA cause well they were from Norfolk, UK. And what do you know, they'd hit Williamsburg and had been visitors to my own museum, and we scrolled through vacation photos.

After class, I headed back to Leicester, getting back in time for a very late lunch. And absolutely, yes! I went back to Viva El Burrito for a plate of nachos and wonderful conversation.

Look back at this thread for my thoughts - https://community.ricksteves.com/travel-forum/general-europe/location-as-an-ingredient-the-authenticity-trap-of-food - here was British-SouthAsian family creating a British take on American Mexican food done very well. True to the local counter-service experience I mentioned in another thread, she wouldn't even let me clean up my own trash.

Saturday night I sat down for a pork pie supper, eating the pre-baked pie from the class that I had jellied to take home. I didn't actually keep my own handmade pie; my room only had a microwave and a hob, so I had no way to bake it. Because the paste making technique was really most important to me, I let the Norfolk couple have my unbaked pie so it wouldn't go to waste.

October 4, checked out the Leicester Guildhall and the Art Museum. The Guildhall is a beautiful historic space, reminding me of so many small county museums back home that hold wonderful local old things but lack the resources for robust educational programming.

Looking back at my time at the Gresham, I'd booked their superior studio for four nights for a total of £477. As with many hotels, I signed up for their membership to get a discounted member rate. The hotel's location is about a half-mile from the train station, with many restaurants nearby, two Tesco Expresses, and an easy walk to the Richard III Visitor Centre, the Cathedral, the Guildhall, and the Art Museum.

My room was on the 4th floor and offered plenty of space, featuring a large room with a couch framing a living space area, a set of shelves, and a double bed in another part of the room. My only critique would be that the kitchenette wasn't quite as well-appointed as other aparthotels. Obviously the expectation is that the extent of cooking would be to heat something in the microwave or warm up pasta or soup on the hob, with little involved cooking beyond that. There wasn't a toaster, a spatula, or a kitchen knife, though it had a saucepan, a frying pan, a strainer, and basic table settings for two. But I genuinely have no complaints. I would have liked a toaster, but I just buttered my bread and grilled it in the frying pan to make toast.

October 5 was a travel day. I spent the morning packing, cleaning up after breakfast, and straightening up my hotel room. I checked out, walked to the train station, and headed back to London. I always love walking out of St Paul's station. I'm not one who thinks you can truly live like a local when you travel, but walking around the cathedral and down to the Thames is all so familiar that it has a home-like feel. I like that this area gets remarkably quiet in the evening. Checked into Locke at Broken Wharf, where I'd splurged on their River Suite, got settled, unpacked, and started a load of laundry. Up to that moment, that was the excitement of the day. But tonight would be different. I don't do reservations, usually preferring to pop into little cafés and diners, so a 6:00pm booking at Rules was something completely new for me. I showered and headed out.

Rules is beautiful, and shockingly they let this bum in. I was promptly seated, with no obscured back corner seat. I ordered roast breast of guinea fowl and leg croquette, with buttered carrots, dauphinoise potatoes, and a cider. It was amazing; the guinea fowl tasted somewhat like rich chicken dark meat, and the vegetables were wonderful. A scoop of their hazelnut ice cream rounded out a great meal, with the exceptional service topping it all off.

October 6. If Rules was tradition, today would end up being modern. On this day I had a reservation for breakfast at 6:30am. I'm such an early riser that I normally stay in and cook; I think the last time I had breakfast in a restaurant in London was back in 2022. But I learned of and booked a restaurant which opens at 6:30, so this morning I was heading out the door after 5:30 for a walk.

London was only just starting to stir. Tradesmen were about, deliveries were being made, and a few were out for their morning runs, but there is still that calm and unhurried morning peace. After a walk through the City, I found myself at 22 Bishopsgate, heading up to Bread Street Kitchen on the 59th floor.

I arrived at the restaurant, they were open and I was the first and would be the only customer. I had the restaurant all to myself. I was seated on the side of the dining room at that glass wall overlooking the Thames. It was an incredibly stunning view high above the city. To my right I could see the Millennium Bridge and St Paul's, then London Bridge, with Tower Bridge and the Tower of London to the left. Off to the east there was a streak of light just peeking over the horizon, signaling morning twilight. Out of the west a low cloud bank came in as though it was a fluffy quilt pulled over a sleeping baby. The maître d’ expressed disappointment that the view was disappearing for me, but I was awed by the sheer evolution of it. As sunrise came on, the city was covered over while the Shard seemed to sprout as the only evidence marking that there was indeed a city below. It was all beautiful.

I'd watched a few videos from various food reviewers about the restaurant, with the common theme being that the food is really good but not spectacular. I was intrigued, because I tend to view breakfast as quintessential diner food. It's hard to screw up; the key is simply consistency and quality. I ordered their full English and a coffee. When asked if I wanted my coffee black or with cream and sugar, I fully expected to receive skim milk. Instead, I was served a pitcher of beautifully thick heavy cream. That was an awesome surprise, and it made for a fine cup of coffee.

The food itself came out looking gorgeous. The beans were served in a mini cocotte, alongside a sausage, a strip of streaky bacon, a couple rashers of back bacon, black pudding, a very large portobello mushroom cap, potato hash, and perfectly scrambled eggs. The eggs were perfectly scrambled with a great texture, while the bacon, sausage, and pudding were all excellent. The mushroom cap was nicely cooked and such a size I could have made a meal out of just that and some buttered toast. It all was very good. I think “spectacular“ is an unreasonable expectation for a breakfast plate. This was simply a very well-done, tasty, and high-quality meal that hit the exact consistency a breakfast should hit. Breakfast is not a gimmick, it's not abstract art, it is simple everyday food.

Leaving 22 Bishopsgate, it was now a very different morning. When I headed out at 5:30am, the City had a calm, unhurried peace with only a few people about. Now, the streets were completely crowded with office workers, an absolute crush of people flowing strictly in one direction. Walking along Cheapside towards St Paul's, I was moving directly against that human flow. Along the way, I found the statue of Captain John Smith. This is a copy of the statue that stands at Historic Jamestowne and was a gift to the city in 1960 by what was at the time the Jamestown Foundation, today the Jamestown-Yorktown Foundation. I made sure I got a selfie with John.

Then I headed over to Borough Market for a little bit and picked up a steak and stilton pie for supper that evening.

October 7, started off as another lazy morning. I had two things to accomplish today. First I headed to Tate Britain. It's always wonderful to see so many of the paintings I only ever view as .jpg or .png files for work. Got to view one of my favorites “An Iron Forge” painted in 1772 by Joseph Wright. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/An_Iron_Forge . It is an amazing piece, and I am enthralled by the glow of the iron bloom being consolidated under the trip hammer. A bonus was coming across a portrait of Elizabeth Grey, Countess of Kent. Only because I've worked with her 1654 cookbook that was published posthumously and I do love her beef pie recipe, “to bake beef like red deer”. https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo/A47270.0001.001?rgn=main;view=fulltext .

From the Tate, I walked to Westminster station and then took the tube to Baker Street. As I was making my way out of the Baker Street station, there were two older ladies, both with canes and struggling with checked luggage sized bags. One of the ladies was at the top of the stairs and the second was still at the bottom with a pained expression contemplating how she was going to get both bags up there, and I bet she was thinking she would carry one up and then go back down and carry the second up. I couldn't help myself, and asked if she needed help. I could tell she was shocked and wondering how some broken dude with his own cane was going to get this done. I said don't worry we can do this, grabbed one of the bags and carried it up.

My second goal was to go to The Globe on Marylebone across from the station, where Gerry Rafferty would “...drink the night away, And forget about everything…” It’s a Greene King now, and I am sure it has changed in the last 50 years, but I stopped in, had a cider, put in my earbuds and listened to “Baker Street”. Just a quiet tribute right where the song was anchored.

After the day out I headed back to the hotel to clean up, then headed out for my third restaurant reservation of the trip, this time Hawksmoor at St Pancras. Another very beautiful restaurant and I was sat at a spacious banquet bench and table. For starters I tried the roast bone marrow, that was a new experience, and then ordered a sirloin and chips. It all was amazing, with a scoop of blackcurrant sorbet finishing off the meal.

October 8 I took one of the boats down to Greenwich and spent a short time down there, before heading back to my room. This was my last night in England and I wound down, did laundry and packed.

Looking back at my dining experiences on this trip, it marked the first time I'd ever actually made formal restaurant reservations. While the meals were all very good, I felt somewhat out of place at Rules and Hawksmoor. The food was excellent, but I am simply much more comfortable and at home in a café, a diner, or a small family restaurant. I had a far more relaxed and meaningful connection walking into Viva El Burrito than I did at these formal spots. Bread Street Kitchen was the exception, but probably only because I was the only customer there and could just enjoy the space alone. These reservations were unique for the opportunities they gave me; to try roast guinea fowl, to eat a steak at an iconic steakhouse, and to enjoy a fine breakfast with a stunning view, but they ultimately reminded me where my true preferences lie.

October 9, was a travel day, with an uneventful low hassle journey from London to Rotterdam on the Eurostar and then onto Delft. For Delft I was booked into BizStay, just a short walk from the train station. I arrived there about 1:30 expecting to drop my bags until check in at 3, but was immediately led up to my room as soon as I arrived.

My reservation was for what BizStay marks as their “Delft2B” rooms. Their description perfectly covers a unique, split-level layout: a fully equipped kitchen, dining area, and bedroom with a smart TV downstairs, and a spiral staircase leading to an upper living room with a second smart TV and views of Delft's famous churches. It even includes a balcony facing the communal garden and dedicated laundry facilities.

I was merely looking for an aparthotel and yet had a really nice apartment that was amazingly spacious for a solo traveler. While I noted what I didn't have in a kitchenette at the Gresham, BizStay had a complete and full kitchen. I got unpacked and settled in.

Looking for supper l walked into an Indo-Dutch restaurant called Toko Idola. Now I've never had Indonesian food, I have no experience with and know nothing about the cuisine. The lady running the shop was kind enough to guide me along. As I understand it, toko means a store, shop, or grocery and in this context it's a counter-service restaurant where inexpensive meals are built to order from a display of pre-cooked dishes, or as explained to me point and pick.

The first question I was asked was, “do you like spicy?” Well yes of course. Grasping this point and pick, I selected spicy noodles or bami rames - the base. And being a big fan of green beans I selected Sajoer boontjes met tahu or spicy green beans with tofu followed by daging bali or spicy beef. As I said it’s all new to me, this was an easy form of an introduction, and it all was very good. Good enough that I went back on Saturday for lunch and added the eggplant - called terong blado - the second time around. Again, this is precisely the kind of place I enjoy and am most relaxed.

October 10, I fixed breakfast and then headed out to visit the farmers market going on. So many things I would love to bring back, but I limited myself to visiting a cheese merchant's stall and buying some three years old boerenkaas and then goat milk blue cheese.

After my second visit to Toko Idola I headed over to the Vermeer Centrum. Honestly, I am still wondering how I truly feel about this museum. Because Vermeer’s surviving body of work is small and little is definitively known about his life, I walked in with entirely fair expectations.

Relying entirely on full-scale copies of his paintings means a museum has to work twice as hard to create value, and the Centrum missed many opportunities to do just that. If a visitor is looking at a copy of a painting, they need far more than a paragraph-long descriptive blurb and an occasional audio guide track.

Looking at Vermeer's body of work, you immediately notice fascinating, recurring motifs: the exact same corner of a room, the same window, and how he lit people and objects. The museum lightly touches on these elements - they had an exhibit on the symbols of love and even recreated that famous studio window and corner so visitors could take a photo inside their own "Vermeer" - but they ultimately left so much of the narrative on the table.

My take is that it barely scratches the surface and glosses over so much material. I wanted deeper insights. The center unfortunately was less an immersive educational journey and more like a static gallery of high-quality prints. I left the table feeling unsatiated.

Saturday morning I took the train to Enkhuizen to visit the Zuiderzeemuseum. It was a light rainy morning leaving Delft and in Enkhuizen the rain would come in, in bands with a dark sky to the west over the North Sea. Standing near the visitor I saw and photographed the strongest, brightest and most rainbow I've ever seen.

I had a pleasant afternoon wandering the Zuiderzeemuseum and gaining an understanding of the Zuiderzee. Looking out at the vessels on the water with the wind and rain bands reminded me of the Chesapeake Bay.

I had no plans for October 12, none for the 13th either, before I head home on the 14th. I walked throughout Delft and spent time enjoying the view of the city from my balcony. I did wish I could get on a bicycle and pedal about Delft.

Looking at these final days, it highlights a core thought I have on travel. I am not a fast traveler, I am not an absolute acolyte of slow travel, and I don't buy into trying to live like a local. I don't feel the need to occupy every moment with activity, I have no attachment to neighborhoods and no checklist to run through. For me, travel is the journey, but it is also the simple reality of just being there. To exist as a sort of observer. I am entirely content with the peace of walking around without an agenda, sitting on the balcony of my room, and watching daily life unfold. It is just the satisfaction of being present in a different space.

October 14 I fly home to Dulles from AMS, then on to RIC.

So we have reached the end. Please forgive the long slog and lack of prose, I do tend to be literal and linear. And that's the way it is. Goodnight

I remember about Melton Mowbray, originally slated for a Sunday because it's an unusual destination on here.
It may not have been useful for you, but Leicester has a free bus service doing a circular route around the City Centre from the station- the Leicester Hop, every 10 minutes, Monday to Saturday daytime.
I stumbled on the Guildhall by chance and yes, I thought it was pretty interesting. One of those unplanned finds.
I'm also used to seeing London waking up like that, for years I was on a 6am train arrival into Fenchurch Street from Essex after a 4.30 start. It was always striking to me the difference the hour made when I had the chance to go into St Paul's Cathedral for 7am service (now a days 7.30). Still quiet and peaceful at 6.45, but all busy and bustling coming out an hour or so later.

Thank you for this report. I really enjoyed it. I especially loved:

*

Out of the west a low cloud bank came in as though it was a fluffy
quilt pulled over a sleeping baby.

Fascinating trip report. Glad you enjoyed Leicester!

Thanks VAP, what a great trip report. I too loved that description of the dark skies and rain shifting through, very evocative!

I am not a fast traveler, I am not an absolute acolyte of slow travel.... For me, travel is the
journey, but it is also the simple reality of just being there. To
exist as a sort of observer.

That's a wonderful view of travel, one we aspire to. That being said, each time I go to Rome, we take a walk through the historical center early before the crowds arrive, then I'm happy to do whatever!

You might be interested to know that in the news today Rules has been handed by the owner to the National Trust so that the building can be preserved. It’s been a restaurant for over 200 years and hasn’t changed much in that time.

It is interesting that you managed to find a good quality Mexican restaurant anywhere in the UK. We are blessed with ready access to cuisines from all over the world and especially those of our former colonies, but we have had little to no immigration from Mexico (they all head to the US!) and as a result we have never had much in the way of authentic Mexican cooking.

Cue posters letting me know of some!