Tag Archives: Marylebone

Roti Chai. Street food. Sort of.

It was one of those days (and they seem to be increasing in frequency),where the thought of cooking for myself just didn’t appeal. I’d been in the office for 6 hours straight, on a Sunday and not any old Sunday but the one just before Christmas,  unpacking crates and dealing with nonsense emails. I’d had […]

Orrery. A mechanical device.

Shall we go to The Orrery? Lovely, I hear myself saying. Do we have to?  says my heart. I’ve been here at least five times, but I’ve never booked it myself and given that it’s an obvious choice for a bit of client-related faine daining I wanted to think about why that is.

Briciole. Bargain.

Briciole. I’d been meaning to come here for ages but I hadn’t realised it was here. I mean I’d walked past this place and I’d probably even seen a sign, but I hadn’t registered. I thought it was some sort of deli and bar, because that’s all you can see from the road. So on […]

November 02

MEATliquor. You’ll drool.

I confess, I had not been until last week. My credibility must be brought into question by that but, in my defence, it was only a month ago that I started eating meat again so don’t judge the Judge too harshly. And you shouldn’t come here without eating meat.

Zoom. I almost can’t be bothered

I’ve eaten here about a million times, because it’s round the corner from my office and because it never seems to change.

Galvin Bistrot de Luxe. Use your bus pass.

It’s the sort of place you could take your grandmother. Or someone really dull. It won’t scare them.

28-50 Marylebone. You know you want to.

Heritage. It’s the new organic isn’t it? Really, I don’t think it’s possible to order a non-heritage tomato in Central London anymore. This isn’t just any tomato, it’s an heritage tomato. Purleese. What did we do before? I’m bored with it now.

Liking Locanda Locatelli.

The unexpected death of Central London during the Olympics meant I could get in on an hour’s notice. That never usually happens here, where visits have to be planned weeks in advance.

Too much at Texture.

This was compensation for not being invited to beach volleyball. Apparently, the whole of the property industry is going to see this excuse-for-a-sport (which bit of surprised are you, exactly?) and for some reason, my firm’s practice insurer thought I wouldn’t be interested in all that bouncing, so invited me to name the restaurant of […]

Donostia. Fancy a Basque?

I’m getting to like Seymour Place. It’s like an alternative Marylebone, full of interesting shops and cafes but just that little bit off the beaten track. It even has the obligatory artisan coffee shop, The Borough Barista, painted the obligatory trendy Scandi grey.