Almost exactly two years ago I blogged about my experience studying for the written portion of the UK driving test:


Today, I find myself studying another bank of equally interesting, mystifying, obscure and amusing practice test questions. I have now been in the UK on a work visa for 5-and-a-half years and it is time to apply for permanent residency, so my husband and I are about to take the Life in the UK test. If you want to try out some practice questions yourself, this is the site we’ve been using:


Since this test is required for both residency and citizenship applications, and because not everyone drives, there’s more general experience with and commentary on the Life in the UK test than there is on the UK written driving test. Nonetheless, I’ve been having a lot of conversations recently with British citizens who had no idea what was on the test and were shocked to learn. So, I figured I’d blog about it.

Below I’ve pasted some of the example test questions that have caught my attention so far. Note that the numbers of the questions are not in any particular order because each question is a screenshot taken from one of 48 possible practice tests.

My husband and I agree that the hardest questions fall under two categories: dates and courts. Dates are obviously hard, because you need to memorise the date something happened or you’ll just be guessing, especially when the multiple choice options are dates that are really close together. Examples:


Court questions are tricky in part, I think, because they don’t naturally map onto native-country knowledge (e.g., my (limited) knowledge about the US court system). And it’s additionally challenging because things are different in Scotland than in the other three countries (and yet my experience with the court system in Scotland, because our having adopted a child here, isn’t doing me any favours). Examples:


Another difficult category is the Famous-people-I’ve-never-heard-of category. I will probably feel silly someday listing these (“I can’t believe I didn’t know who he was!”) but nonetheless, here are some examples:


Then comes the one everyone talks about, the Are-you-kidding-we-seriously-need-to-know-this?! category. For me, the scope of this category is relatively narrow. I am well aware that there are some people who think the entire test falls under this category. Personally, I don’t see the harm in asking a few questions about history, culture, and government. Yes, some of those questions are also pretty obscure, but in my opinion they’re still not as ridiculous as ones like these:


Yeah, so I am basically opposed to these supposed ‘facts’ about holidays being on this test. More to the point, I think that my legal privilege to claim residency in this country should not hinge on my ability to answer questions like this. But that’s just me…

By the way, that third question you will have already seen if you follow me on Twitter. It generated a bit of discussion, not only about this specific question, about about the test in general:


Finally, let me end with some things I would say are genuinely useful to know. Really! Like, the kind of things you ought to know way before taking this test. For example, the age you have to be to gamble, buy alcohol, or buy cigarettes. Other examples?


Yes. I hereby believe that the TV licence is important. Long live the BBC!

Bizarrely, I’m a sociolinguist because of an undergraduate research opportunity at the University of Arizona called UBRP. It’s still going on now, although they probably haven’t had any linguists in awhile! Even when I was part of the program, it was odd to be a linguist, let alone a sociolinguist; most students were in the biological sciences. You can read more about my experience here (the text comes from Stephanie Shih‘s ‘Snapshot of the Field‘ project).

In short, I entirely attribute my career to the experience of undergraduate research, and so I hold research opportunities for undergraduate students in the highest regard. It is in that spirit that I have this week launched the first issue of a new online journal dedicate to undergraduate research:

Lifespans & Styles: Undergraduate Working Papers on Intraspeaker Variation

As you can see, both the journal topic and the author type are quite narrow in scope. For more information on the inspiration and rationale for the journal, please see my editorial.

The current aim is to publish one issue a year, with an unlimited number of papers per issue. If you know an undergraduate or a recently-graduated undergraduate who has produced a compelling study of intraspeaker variation, please encourage them to revise their paper for journal submission. Every (first) author will be asked to peer review another paper for the same volume, and authors are asked to commit fully to a peer review and post-review revision process. The submission and style guidelines are available here.

I know I just blogged a couple of days ago, but I’ve always enjoyed year-in-review posts. And because most of my Facebook posts, tweets, and now blog posts seem to be about my daughter’s language development, this time my year-in-review is centred on just that!

Our daughter came home to us in late March at 19 months of age, so there are no entries for January or February. But for the other months, I’ve gone over her journal and chosen my favourite notes on her language development for that month. Good-bye 2014! I’m so excited to see what 2015 is going to bring our family, linguistically.

3 April 2014

3 April 2014


At 19 months old, most of her utterances in spontaneous production (i.e., not immediately repeating a adult) are the length of one word or one fixed multi-word construction. But she has a lot of them! By the end of the month I’d recorded 180, plus or minus 40 (because I couldn’t always tell if they were truly spontaneous or not). My favourites are the multi-word ones, like good kick [ʊʔɪk], where go? [wɛgo], and be (right) back [bibæk] or [bibæχ].


While phrases like where go? and be back! seem more lexical than syntactic, this month gave us our first proper sentence: ‘Daddy dancing!’ Yes, it was adorable.


This month she got the plural -s morpheme! One day, there were two cameras lying on the sofa. She saw one and said, ‘Camera!’ and then saw another one and said ‘Two cameras!’ (She used two for any kind of plurality, so the number itself was a coincidence, but a cool one.)

This is also the month when I started documenting the switch from her West Scotland accent to an American one.


She now uses the word too productively. We were looking at a photo album and she said, ‘Daddy!’ and then turned the page and pointed and said, ‘Daddy too!’

This month she also started repeating sentences with more than three words; ‘Daddy has to make it first.’ was repeated as ‘Daddy make it first.’


This month our kiddo used the for the first time! We were coming into the building from outside and she said, ‘close the door’ with a clear voiced fricative onset to the schwa.

She also spent the month actively building on adjectives and syntax (e.g., ‘Tiny beach ball hit purple balloon!’).

17 August 2014

17 August 2014


This month saw her first fully adult-like utterance: ‘Look Daddy, a duck!’ She said it twice! And then that same day I said ‘that eye?’ and she said ‘this eye.’ We also started hearing her use I more this month, though she still prefers using her name instead.


It’s the seasons of sentences. Her favourite frame of the moment is ‘I want X.’ such as in, ‘I want [to] swing again.’


Two big language achievements that we noticed this month. First, she used a proportion, saying ‘half a banana’ and then breaking the banana in half to share with Daddy. Second, she learned her first phrase in Akan-Twi: Ma brɛ. It means ‘I’m tired.’ She knows what it means but doesn’t say it spontaneously.

One of my personal favourite sentences this month was, ‘I have a orange tiger suit motorcycle!’ No, I don’t know what it means, either.


The season of sentences continues with more complexity and creativity. Some amusing examples include, ‘Bye-bye, I’m going to the post box.’ and ‘I have little hands.’ My favourite this month was, ‘I’m wearing a scary.’ <makes a scary face> ‘Like a mask!’


This month she starting using quotatives. Examples: ‘I say, Don’t grab, Siardus!‘ and ‘I say, No Siardus, stop.’ (Siardus is a friend’s baby, and she was recounting a play date earlier that day.)

She’s also gradually transitioning from not to don’t, occasionally saying sentences as complex as, ‘I don’t want to wash my hair’, but also sometimes eliding either word and relying only on prosody and facial expression to convey the negative valence.

Lastly, I elicited some US/UK code-mixing the other day: ‘…pockets full of posy, ashes, a tissue, we all fall down!’

17 December 2014

17 December 2014

I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up with her development in 2015, but I will certainly try! Happy New Year, everyone! Afehyia paaa!

My Facebook friends will know that I love quoting my daughter, now age 2 and 4 months, whose rate of language acquisition is zooming along at a breathtaking pace. In jotting down some of her more interesting and amusing utterances last week, a little pattern quickly emerged that I thought deserved more than a Facebook post.

(Major caveat: I’m not an acquisition expert at all, so my observation here is strictly amateurish. I’m guessing this is a super common phenomenon, but I really have no idea.)

Basically, my kid is using the possessive determiner ‘my’ more often than the articles ‘a(n)’ or ‘the’. Here are some unremarkable uses of ‘my’ that are presumably being extended:

  1. I need my baby [doll].
  2. Where’s my balloon?
  3. I have that [toy] at my nursery.

And here are some examples of the marked use:

  1. It’s in my office.
  2. I’m on my edge.
  3. I have that at my Hemma.
  4. I have that at my bus.

The first one refers to the location of her balloon in the previous set of examples. Since the balloon was in our home office/study, her sentences actually kind of work: it’s a room in her home, so why not call it her office? (She doesn’t use ‘our’ yet.) It’s just cute to hear a two-year-old talk about ‘her’ office.

The second example was something uttered when she was starting to roll toward to the edge of the sofa. Again, it’s a sofa in our home, so in a sense it’s ‘hers’, although I think it’s just as if not more likely that she’s just using ‘my’ in these cases in place of ‘the’.

The other two examples require more context. Hemma is a (wonderful!) family-friendly restaurant-bar where we’ve gone several times for parties and hanging out, so unlike other restaurants, she knows it by name. At Hemma they have a fussball table, and this example utterance occurred when we were at a charity shop and saw another fussball table.

The last example occurred when we were looking at a newspaper and she saw an ad that she had seen on the outside of a bus that had gone by earlier. In both this and the Hemma example, ‘I have that at X’ seems to mean ‘I saw that at X’ or ‘I recognize that from X’.

She does use both ‘the’ and ‘a(n)’, too. For example: she and I both have sniffly colds right now, and this past weekend she said the following, actually self-correcting from ‘a’ to ‘my':

I need a tissue! I need my tissue!

By far my favorite example of this, which I’m not sure actually counts as an example, was from a moment the other day when she got stuck accidentally in between a chair and a table, and said:

I’m in my way!

What I love about this and ‘I’m on my edge’ is how both could be rather deep and profound statements if not for the very literal contexts they occurred in.

How Accents Work

I wrote the following article by request from the Ragged University, who will be hosting my upcoming talk at the Counting House on the evening of 11 September. The basic idea behind the Ragged Project is what some call ‘knowledge exchange’ — basically, bringing academics into pubs for a chat with non-academics about the research academics do. My participation was motivated by my receipt of a Small Grant award from the British Academy with funds from the Leverhulme Trust. You can find the original version of my Ragged article here. (Their version is nicely formatted; mine has footnotes!) Special thanks to my PhD students Daniel Lawrence, Ruth Friskney, and Zuzana Elliott for their feedback on earlier drafts.


How Accents Work

by Lauren Hall-Lew


The way we speak suggests to the world something about who we are: where we come from, what our gender is, what age group we’re in, and even what kind of job we might have. The parts of our identity that most define us are often marked most strongly in our accents and voices (whether we want them to be or not). Often, the aspects of our speech that do this social signalling can be very subtle. Sometimes we’re aware of them, but often they just pass by, unremarkable and unnoticed at a conscious level, but nonetheless shaping the way we interact with one another. Understanding how and why this happens is part of sociolinguistics: the study of the relationship between language and society. Sociolinguists pull together work from linguistics, sociology, psychology, and anthropology, among other things (such as speech acoustics). The results give us insights into the nature of society, the nature of speech communication, and the relationship between the two.


How accents are documented and analysed

Imagine that you stop a stranger to ask for directions and the person points and says simply: “It’s over there.” If you are very fluent in English, then you will be able to infer something about that person’s social identity based only on how they pronounce that phrase. The presence or absence of the ‘r’s, the quality of the vowels, or even the quality of the ‘th’ in ‘there’ (does it sound like a ‘d’?) might all serve as clues. As linguists, we need to be able to describe these clues in a systematic way, before describing how this process of social inference actually works.

Linguists call all these possible clues ‘variables’, categories composed of possible ‘variants’ that then can signal particular social qualities. The ‘r’ in words like ‘over’ or ‘there’ is an example of a very well-studied linguistic variable (called ‘rhoticity’) that’s important to descriptions of different accents of English within the UK and across the English-speaking world. The quality of ‘rhoticity’ is the variable; one variant is ‘rhotic’ and the other variant is ‘non-rhotic’ (and there might be even more variants, still). But although the presence or absence of a final ‘r’ is one of the qualities that distinguishes, for example, most Scottish accents from most English accents, it’s far from the only variable that does so (consider, for example, the vowel in the word ‘house’). Linguistically then, an ‘accent’ is just a list of those variants that distinguish one way of speaking from another way of speaking. Everyone has at least one accent, and how ‘weak’ or ‘strong’ a person’s accent either reflects how different that person’s variants are from your own, or how different that person’s variants are from some recognised ‘standard’ accent. If the person who says, “It’s over there” says each vowel and consonant differently from you, then you might think that person has a ‘heavy accent’. But if their variants are all the same as the ones you would use, you might not think about their accent at all, or you might even (mistakingly!) think that they have ‘no accent’.

A dialectologist is the kind of linguist who might produce a description of all the variables that distinguish one regional accent from another one. A sociolinguist is also interested in this, but might instead look closely at only one or two variables and see how those vary between speakers within a community: are there differences in their use according to the speaker’s age, social class, or gender? In Edinburgh, for example, recent research by one of my undergraduate students has confirmed our impression that working class men are more likely to roll their ‘r’ in a word like ‘road’ than middle class women are. At the same time, that tendency gets more complicated and interesting when you consider middle class men versus working class women, or younger people versus older people. Of course age, class, and gender are only three aspects of people’s identities, but when we hear the voice of a stranger on the street, not only do we usually infer those traits, but we also infer any number of other social qualities. Looking at which variants are used by which groups of people helps us describe what those social qualities may be, but it also raises the question of how we define a ‘group’ – which aspects of identity matter in determining which accent we use?

Practically speaking, sociolinguists conduct research by recording people talking, listening to the recordings, and counting the proportion of times different variants appear. For cases when the difference between variants is gradual rather than either-or, we might make use of acoustic measurements. For example, some people say that the stereotypical pronunciation of the vowel in the word ‘bat’ by residents of the Morningside neighbourhood of Edinburgh is ‘bet’-like (making possible slightly off-coloured jokes about ‘sacks’ in Morningside). A sociophonetician is the kind of linguist who might take precise measurements of someone’s vowel in words like ‘bat’ to see just how close it really is to their vowel in words like ‘bet’. If this is done across a representative sample of members of a community then we often find very regular statistical patterns between peoples’ accents and their social identities. We also find that these patterns exist even when people aren’t consciously aware of them.

That kind of research can be described as the sociolinguistic study of speech production. It’s also common to study the listening side of things, which is the study of speech perception. Sociolinguists who study the perception of accents might look at what conscious attitudes people have, playing recordings of speech for listeners and then asking listeners to comment on the kind of person they think the speaker is. We might intuitively think that we start out with neutral opinions about people and then judge them positive or negatively based on how they speak. But linguistic research has shown that if we view a group of people negatively, then we’ll also often extend those negative evaluations to the way they speak. In many cases, saying disparaging things about a particular accent is just a socially acceptable way to say disparaging things about the people who speak with that accent. In addition to this kind of language attitudes research, there has also been some interesting work on subconscious speech perception, including work on ‘accent hallucination’, which I’ll say more about in the next section.


How an accent provides clues to a person’s identity

So what do we think we know about how accents signal social identities? Without getting too deep in the theory of it, the basic idea is that when we acquire language, we not only learn what words mean or refer to (‘referential meaning’) but we acquire information about how those words are most often used, such as which contexts they occur in (‘pragmatic meaning’) or what kind of person is likely to use them (‘social meaning’). As we learn how to speak, we learn the pronunciations of those we spend the most time with, and as we get older, we adjust those pronunciations as our social networks change (such as when we shift from spending more time with family, as a child, to spending more time with friends, as a teenager). Although adults take on new ways of speaking less often, or slower, than children do, nearly all of us do shift a bit when talking with different kinds of people, regardless of whether we notice that we’re doing so or not.

One of the most famous examples of this is work by Jonathan Harrington and colleagues on changes in the speech of Queen Elizabeth II over her lifetime.[1] Their study looked at her Christmas broadcasts since the 1950s and compared the pronunciations of all of her vowels over time. They found that, overall, her speech had shifted gradually away from Received Pronunciation and towards a more widely-spoken variety linguists refer to as Southern Standard British English.

But changes over the course of one’s lifespan are not remarked upon nearly as often as changes that happen from one moment to the next, or what sociolinguists call ‘style-shifting’ or ‘code-switching’. This is the phenomenon of someone’s accent changing when they speak to a stranger on the telephone, or speak lovingly to a baby or a pet. Observers often take notice of someone else’s style-shifting when it happens, and can poke fun at it.[2] In some instances an observer may accuse someone of putting on a false accent, and thus a false social identity, even though style-shifting is a ubiquitous feature of human communication.

While it’s perhaps not so surprising that linguistic forms can point to social identities, here’s an example of just how deeply ingrained these associations are in all of us: ‘accent hallucination’. In a study conducted by Okim Kang (Associate Professor, Northern Arizona University) and Donald L. Rubin (Professor Emeritus, University of Georgia) and published in 2009,[3] 158 American university students sat together in a lecture hall and listened to a recorded lecture on a generic science topic. The lecture was given by a native speaker of U.S. English who had been described by his friends as “a particularly clear speaker.” While they listened, the students saw a picture of someone who they were meant to think was the person giving the lecture. Part of the time they saw a White face and the description “native speaker” and part of the time they saw an East Asian face and the description “non-native speaker” (there were various measures taken to make it believable that the speakers were actually different people). The listeners were then asked to write down some of the sentences that they heard the speaker say. The listeners were also asked how much regular interaction they had, personally, with non-native English speakers. Not only did they find that listeners said the “non-native speaker” had a non-native accent, but they also found that those listeners who interacted less often with non-native speakers were actually less successful at writing down the exact words that the “non-native speaker” said.

Remember: they were actually listening to the same speaker the whole time; it was only their perception of who they were listening to that changed. This study reveals that our social expectations alone are enough to make us think that someone has a non-native accent, even when they don’t, and thinking that someone has a non-native accent may actually make it more difficult for us to comprehend what they’re saying, regardless of what they sound like. The findings take the relationship between accents and social identities to another level, where it’s not only just a question of how a particular variant conveys something about the speaker’s identity, but the listener’s own inferences about the speaker also influence what variants the listener hears.


Uncharted areas of accent and identity research

So how does speech actually convey speaker identity? In attempting to understand this question, sociolinguists have looked at the relationship between linguistic variants and regional, class, age, and gender identities. These are the staples of sociolinguistic research, and others such as ethnicity, race, religion, and sexual orientation have also been studied in great depth in some places. Some work has even taken a very fine-grained look at language use in very specific social groups, such as a friendship cohort of six middle-class Muslim high school girls in Sheffield whose friendship was primarily defined by an interest in the ‘Twilight’ novels, and see how their language use compares to that of members of other similarly specific cohorts.[4]

Another angle we can take for approaching this question is to look at social identities that have not been previously considered, such as what political party a person belongs to. In this talk, I will present work-in-progress from my latest project that asks if politicians’ accents can tell us anything about their politics. Some recent research shows that politicians present an interesting case, presumably because their political identity is particularly important to their social identity, and also possibly because they speak professionally and therefore present their identity in an on-record, public way more often than most of us do.

In my talk, I’ll first present work from an earlier study I did on Members of the United States House of Representatives,[5] and then I’ll move on to talk about my current work on Scottish Members of the Parliament of the United Kingdom.[6] While the specific identities of the political parties are very different in those two contexts, in both cases political party is a strong predictor of the way those politicians pronounce their vowels. Typically when we think of the speech of politicians we think of conscious rhetorical decisions designed to manipulate and spin. In contrast, in my talk I will present the argument that politicians subconsciously convey their political identity through their pronunciation patterns, just in the same way that all of us subconsciously convey various aspects of our identity through our speech. In short, politicians are people too, and what their speech patterns look like provides us with insights on how speech works for all of us.


[1] http://www.nature.com/nature/journal/v408/n6815/full/408927a0.html

[2] For a great example, see: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JzprLDmdRlc

[3] http://jls.sagepub.com/content/28/4/441 (Note that ‘accent hallucination’ is my term, not theirs, and not an official term.)

[4] http://etheses.whiterose.ac.uk/5864/

[5] http://americanspeech.dukejournals.org/content/85/1/91.abstract

[6] http://www.political-voices.lel.ed.ac.uk/

In late March, my daughter came home. She was born west of Glasgow and lived her first year and a half of life there with a wonderful foster family, also from area. Since late March she’s spent the vast majority of her days speaking only to me and my husband, who are American, living in Edinburgh. This post is about what’s happened to her accent.

When a child moves from one family to another the most important thing to help with the transition is to minimise differences between the two places as much as possible. We switched soaps and laundry detergents to the same ones that they used; we bought and served the same foods, in the same way; we changed our hourly schedule to match hers as best as possible. We learned the songs she knew and liked, and which of her toys and books were the favourites. Linguistically, my husband and I have done our best to use the same terminology that her foster family was using for the objects familiar to her: our default family terms now include nappy, pram, and dummy, to name just a few. But our accents are still distinctly American. Like my other American colleagues at the university, after years in Edinburgh we haven’t acquired any Scottish accent features except for the occasional unflapped /t/. I was worried, at first, that the difference in accents might be disconcerting to her, but happily we haven’t noticed any problems. Unsurprisingly, what we (and our friends and family) have noticed has been a shift in her own accent over the past few months. So I decided to measure it.

Although I’m a sociophonetician, I never planned to collect data for this comparison. Although I wrote down some of the words she knew, and their pronunciations, it was really more for the sake of proud parental documentation than for the sake of studying her accent shift. Our daughter is very verbal. She had about 100 words in spontaneous (initiative) production at the time she moved in (1;7), and then at least 250 words less than a month later (after which, I stopped counting). It was really this incidental fact that made it possible to even measure her production patterns, since all of the audio that these data come from family videos that were taken for the purpose of capturing a cute or funny moment and not for the purpose of linguistic analysis.

In the following plot, each dot represents the mean of all measured instances of a particular vowel class, and the ellipses are one standard deviation from that mean. The vowels are represented by keywords which are taken from Jane Stuart-Smith’s (2003) chapter, “The Phonology of Modern Urban Scots” from The Edinburgh Companion to Scots (rather than, e.g., Wells’s (1982) lexical set terms, which refer to vowel classes in RP). The exception is the BALL class which I’ve labeled that way simply because every instance of that class is the word “ball” (her favourite toy)! I only included vowel classes that have representative tokens in both the March and May recordings.

If you’ve never seen a vowel plot before, just know that the location of the vowel roughly corresponds to where that sound is produced in the mouth, and that vowels that are closer together on the plot are more similar to one another. The lines jutting out from the dots represent how the pronunciation of the vowel changes from the middle of the sound to the end of the sound. These plots were generated using the handy web-based suite, NORM (Kendall & Thomas 2010).


My daughter's vowels when she came home (on the left) versus two months later (on the right).

My daughter’s vowels when she came home (on the left) versus two months later (on the right).


What stands out to me the most in this plot is her vowel in BAIT. While this is raised and fronted in Glaswegian, it’s lower and backer in American Englishes, and you can see this in the plot. I should say that there’s a lexical bias here: in March, all of the tokens were from the word “baby,” while in May, the tokens came from the words “blanket” and “daisy.” But I tried to control for coarticulatory effects, and I’m also confident about this result because it’s something that I’ve noticed a lot, anecdotally. I was telling a colleague yesterday that the strongest holdout to her BAIT-retraction was in the song “Wheels on the bus,” which she came to us already knowing very well. The word “day” in the final line “all day long” has consistently had an /i/-like quality until just yesterday morning when we were walking through town and I heard her say /deɪ/ for the first time.

In the following clip you can hear this change in action. She and I are repeating the word “oops-a-daisy” over and over while playing with her toys. This is a word that she learned before coming to live with us on the 25th of March, and the recording was made on the 21st of May. When she initiates the first instance, the first vowel in “daisy” sounds distinctly /i/-like. But after I offer my own pronunciation, by the third instance that vowel sounds more like /eɪ/.


The other thing you can see suggested in the plot is that her BIT vowel seems to be raising — the Glaswegian one is lower than the American one, so this makes sense. Her May vowel space also seems more compact than her March one, but I would guess that that’s either an effect of language acquisition (her pronunciations are much clearer in May) or the stylistic context (the March recordings were taken from more high-energy, excited speech).

There are other changes that I’ve noticed but which haven’t been audio recorded or which didn’t make it into these data. The one that stands out to me the most is her pronunciation of the word hoover, which had a distinct /i/-like vowel in late March and is now pronounced with an /u/. Unfortunately I don’t have any recordings of the earlier pronunciation (in fact, no recordings of the /u/ vowel all from March except for one exclamative “ooh!” which was too loud to measure).

Anyway, she starts nursery (AmEng: daycare) in September, so we’ll see what happens!

There are some frequent topics of conversation at the weekly coffee hour in my department: shop talk, the weather, and food. A lot of us often talk about food we can’t get in Edinburgh. Or what used to be unavailable, but now can be found at such-and-such shop. Or what we stock up on every time we’re back in the Old Country (and I’ll spare you the tangential thought about how reverse-directional migration makes phrases like ‘the Old Country’ very awkward).

I’ve just spent over a month visiting the United States. I left Edinburgh before the holidays started in order to present a paper at the ASA. After three weeks in various parts of Northern California I spent 11 days in various parts of Arizona. Now I’m in the Baltimore area, and on Sunday I fly back home to Edinburgh.

While here, I’ve eaten a lot. And having so much time to have so many meals made me think about how I prioritize food choices. There’s the must eats, those things I’ll seek out even if I just have one day in the US! And then, like a travel guide book, there’s those things I seek out if I have more time. Or a lot more time! And every time I visit, the list changes. But here’s the current list…

Must Eats:

Apple butter! (I know, it’s a little random, but I’m I huge fan.)
Breakfast burritos
Panera’s Iced Green Tea
Sonic’s Cherry Limeade
Trader Joe’s brand anything

Guilty Pleasures, given the opportunity:

Auntie Annie’s Pretzels
Boba tea
Jimmy John’s
Ranch dressing
Rice Krispy treats
Taco Bell
Whatever new gimmick the major candy bar brands have come up with

Foods we can get in Edinburgh but are better in the US:

Dim sum

Foods we can get in Edinburgh but which are cheaper in the US:

Gai lan
Red Vines
Seaweed salad

Specific Restaurants, if geographically possible:

La Mediterranee, Berkeley, CA

Macy’s European Coffeehouse & Bakery, Flagstaff, AZ

MartAnne’s, Flagstaff, AZ

Maya Quetzal, Tucson, AZ (get the Plato Vegetariano)

San Tung, Inner Sunset, San Francisco, CA (get the chicken wings)

Travel on, friends! :)

Macy's Coffeehouse, Winter 2008

Macy’s Coffeehouse, Winter 2008


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