Tag Archives: British

August 30

Petersham Nurseries Café. A garden at the centre.

Petersham Nurseries. Remember that? Of course you do. You’ll probably be recalling its heyday, 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 was going […]

August 25

André Garrett at Cliveden House.

Shall we go to Cliveden, I say to C, who is sitting on the chair in the kitchen, playing with his phone.  I am sitting at the kitchen table, preparing a schedule of mortgage requirements for a new client. Unsurprisingly, the tedium is leading me to thoughts of escape. There are only so many times […]

August 21

THIS RESTAURANT IS DECEASED : The Newman Arms. Not your average boozer.

No, it’s not the Newman Street Tavern, a hop skip and a jump away, around the corner, on Newman Street but you’d be forgiven for being confused by this two Newman-named gastropubs malarkey. I did that old-fashioned thing and phoned to book. There was none of usual Sisyphean endeavour needed to speak to an actual human at the […]

August 14

Rabbit and The Shed.

We have also the wines from success, said our waiter, in a thick accent of indeterminate origin, his ponytail pulled back so tightly that he had given himself a Croydon facelift. We decided to give the wines of success a miss when we worked out that they were wines from Sussex, not that I’ve got anything against […]

July 31

Chez Bruce. Safety first.

There is, I am told an unspoken rivalry between locals as to which is best, Trinity, Clapham or Chez Bruce, Wandsworth. My companion J, is very definitely Team Trinity and I sense that he is not entirely comfortable on enemy ground.

June 13

Portland and yes it is (mostly) Great.

#Firstworldproblems no 1:  being irritated by the OpenTable booking message telling me I can only have the table for a two hour slot. #Firstworldproblems no.2 : being called by the restaurant two days before the booking, to remind me about the two-hour slot, in case I hadn’t seen it on the screen during booking, not […]

June 10

Ham Yard, Soho.

I have lived in London for more years than I care to remember, but I have never before been to Ham Yard, slap, tickle and bang in the middle of Soho. Ham Yard was placed firmly on the Soho tourist map by the opening of the Ham Yard Hotel, part of the Firmdale Group. I […]

April 26

THIS RESTAURANT IS NOW CLOSED The Truscott Arms, Maida Vale. Trust me.

Thinking that The Truscott Arms is somewhere vaguely up there in Maida Vale, my Google Maps App tells me that it is a mere seven minutes by car from my present location. I press the “walk” option. 23 minutes, 1.1 miles, via the Paddington Basin. For those of you who don’t know, Paddington Basin is the terminus […]

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 […]

February 22

St John. It’s the daddy.

We’d escaped to the Beckford Arms at the weekend,  a gastropub with rooms, deep in the heart of the West Country. Despite being run by boys who look like they should be in a Boden catalogue, it’s well worth a visit.