image May 20

The Wild Rabbit. Not wild and no rabbit.

“Can I have some of the vegetable curry”, said the man next to me at the Farmers’ Market. The voice sounded familiar. “Oh and some of the rice too, please”. I looked sideways. It was David Cameron. I suppose I was asking for it, hovering round the Farmers’ Market on a Saturday morning in Chipping Norton. […]

image May 09

Rex & Mariano, Soho. My boat has come in.

“What do you mean we have to order using an iPad?”, says J, making her mind up in seconds and not in a good way. And the table is only for two hours because we are a party of fewer than five. We get a little “hmmph”  before she realises that the iPad thing brings […]

image April 26

The Truscott Arms, Maida Vale. Trust me.

It must be very confusing to live on the road known variously as Euston, Marylebone and Pentonville Road. One road, three names. It wasn’t always so; in 1857 the road’s name was changed from New Road to its current nomenclature. And the Marylebone Road bit starts at Regent’s Park and runs to the Westway, that […]

image April 25

Lima Floral. Confusion in Covent Garden.

Don’t let anyone tell you that opposing lawyers always tear seven strips out of each other; my area of expertise is property and unless you’re looking for a fight you should be able to avoid one. I was meant to be meeting a lawyer I had got to know on the other side of a messy, […]

image April 21

Trinity. Cream of Clapham.

It’s the unfairness of it that rankles. And it’s not like I haven’t dragged myself across the river to Clapham twice already in the last six months, both times to visit the epicentre of current culinary derring-do that is The Dairy. It doesn’t seem entirely fair that the good burghers of Clapham have not one, but three restaurants I’d be happy to eat at any […]

image April 02

The Heron, W2. It’ll give you wings.

I had tried, half-heartedly to get in once before, but the combination of a massive queue and a painful karaoke screeching from the wall-mounted televisions was enough to see me off. It was Biker Barry who got me here in the end. I owed him for cat-sitting favours. Choose anywhere, I say. The Heron, he […]

No words. March 22

Wormwood. Your guess is as good as mine.

I have no idea why they named it Wormwood. After the herb? Or perhaps the star mentioned in the Book of Revelations, which, according to Wikipedia, falls to Earth and poisons a third part of the earth’s waters. #Awkward. Described on the website as “wholesome, creative colourful dishes inspired by tapas/mezze culture executed with French […]

image March 21

Hunan. You won’t go hungry.

Why is your wearable fitness device saying LOSE asks my back doctor. This is the digital device I wear on my wrist which, helpfully, tells me how much I’ve fallen short of my daily goal of ten thousand steps. I am confused by his comment as my wearable has never before issued a command. I […]

Happy Christmas, mace lovers March 05

The Gay Hussar.

“If you go for the food, you’re missing the point. Go because you want to see a slice of restaurant history” “We had that Hugh Grant in here once, upstairs, private party. They had 19 bottles of this wine. Not a lot, between the 17 of them but I had to taste them all”. “Oh, […]

image February 22

St John. It’s the Daddy.

“There’s a northern eschewing of fancy-schmancy, which speaks to me” We’d escaped to the Beckford Arms at the weekend,  a gastropub with rooms, deep in the heart of the West Country. Run by boys who look like they should be in a Boden catalogue, it’s well worth a visit, although we don’t stay in the body […]

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