Yellowtail sashimi November 26

Sexy Fish. Wear your best trout pout.

In the end, I had to put my splayed fingers on the glass, covering the face of the paparazzi, their noses pressed to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rita Ora. I don’t suppose they were particularly interested in Piers Morgan, sitting a couple of tables away bang in the middle of the room, but […]

IMG_7154 November 11

Piquet, W1: Piquing my interest in Mr Pickett.

I might as well just give in to my inner OAP. I’m quite happy to fantasize about a post-work visit to The Richmond or The Marksman or even to Peckham Rye but unless the tube is going to deposit me practically at the mouth of the restaurant,  I’m not going to be schlepping across the plains […]

Shepherd's pie don't pass me by November 05

The Ivy, spreading its tendrils to Marylebone.

I’ve got a table for the new Ivy Café in Marylebone tomorrow, says Mr A, I know it’s short notice, but I thought you might like to try it. Short notice? Never a problem. As he said it, the vague memory of an Ivy opening in Marylebone drifted into my conscious mind. It had slipped […]

image October 27

The Ritz. If you’re blue.

It’s not for me, I think, all that gilt, all those mirrors and all those middle-aged women listening to the plinkety-plink of the piano,  whilst stuffing their faces with champagne, tea, sandwiches and cake.  I’m far too cool for this, I kid myself. I entirely ignore the fact that I am a middle-aged woman with a fondness for champagne, sandwiches, tea and […]

image October 17

Shaun Dickens at the Boathouse. Not floating my boat.

I’ve booked and cancelled Shaun Dickens at the Boathouse in Henley on more than one occasion, simultaneously attracted by his stated pedigree and put off by pictures of overwrought food. It’s quite fussy plating, the like of which will make me press the “avoid” button, unless I’m pretty sure they know what they are doing. The chef’s pedigree […]

A gaping yaw of goodness October 16

Bao. Stuffed in Soho.

It is a Monday lunchtime and a tedious morning has my brain looking for a food-based displacement activity. There is nothing speaking to me within a mile of my office and I am not in the mood for polite conversation. I remember that I have not yet been to Bao and I am almost too […]

image September 21

The Clove Club. Who said romance was dead?

“Happy loving couples make it look so easy.” Joe Jackson, 1989. I’d last been to The Clove Club on Valentine’s Day, that passion-killer which ranks up there with New Year’s Eve as top of my nights to stay at home under all circumstances. I was so overjoyed to be able to find that a table […]

It's the law. September 20

Oldroyd. Local Hero.

Think about your dream neighbourhood restaurant. It would have a chef-owner who actually cooks in the kitchen. It would be around the corner, so that you could stagger home, if and when necessary. They would know you, so that when you called they would always manage to squeeze you in. The food would be fresh, […]

image September 10

Sushi Samba. Splash the cash.

My FOMO has reached new proportions. I know that this is a mix of Japanese, Brazilian and Peruvian, pure con-fusion food.  Though I know my nigiri from my sashimi, I’m not so hot on the churrascos and the anticuchos, so I have decided to plan in advance,  otherwise known as looking up menu items online. You know how it is, too many […]

Pretty  pretty August 30

Petersham Nurseries Café. A garden at the centre.

Petersham Nurseries. Remember that? Of course you do. You’ll probably be remembering its glory days, under Skye Gyngell, when it had a Michelin star and everyone went on about how expensive it was. I never really fancied it then, I’m not sure why. Perhaps it was the airy-fairiness of it, or the worry that I […]


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