Tag Archives: overpriced

March 10

Chutney Mary: the makeover.

My first impression is that they have spent a small fortune on the fit-out and my second is that I want to stay in the bar. Chutney Mary is the pimped-up reincarnation of the original restaurant of the same name which, until very recently plied its trade at the bottom end of the King’s Road. […]

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 but I’m not sure what that really means.  Though I do 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 […]

July 03

Amaya. Rich pickings.

I feel like I’m five, says C, waving his arms high in the air and simulating an exaggerated knife and fork movement. The chairs in the raised section of the restaurant are too low or the tables are too high, it doesn’t matter which. Obviously, I point this out and the maître d’ suggests I might […]

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 […]

January 29

Maze Sushi. Miso-ry in Mayfair.

Let’s go to Roka, says J. It works for the diet and it’s just round the corner. Roka (pronounced Rock-a) has become our local client lunch eatery of choice, in that culinary hotch-potch that is NoMa. What is NoMa, you may ask, unaware that is my pathetic one-woman attempt to turn the outer reaches of north […]

January 11

C London. Mugged in Mayfair.

I have thought about taking C to C London, dragging him out of his Oxfordshire hermitage, just so that I can say I’ve taken C to C London, but it’s an expensive trip, just for the sake of a pun. I’ve been a few times myself, so I know what I’m in for. Colleague J has […]

December 14

Wiltons. SW1. History on a plate.

It’s been there since 1742, according to the doormat. Bang in the heart of hunting-shooting-fishing-land, you can stock up on all your country needs before you come here and eat something that someone else has had the decency to shoot for you. Wanting, nay needing to avoid anything remotely festive, when  Wiltons pinged up on […]

November 20

Benares. Blinging it up in Berkeley Square.

We’re going to the Punchbowl, I tell J, it’s that pub in Mayfair, you know, the one that used to be owned by Guy Ritchie, when he was Madonna’s husband. For all I know, it  might still be a Ritchie venture but even if it is, we can be eternally grateful that we won’t be […]

August 31

Rasoi. Spice at a price.

There is practically no time when C has refused an invitation to a meal involving curry. He doesn’t like Trishna (uncomfortable chairs, the noise, the fussiness), or Benares (the complexity, the expense) and in this, as in much else, we disagree. Funnily enough, I didn’t mention that there might be fussiness at Rasoi, the brainchild […]

July 29

Rivea. Not riveting

They didn’t play The Girl from Ipanema, but they might as well have done. Hotel muzak is alive and well. Bulgari (or, according to my autocorrect, Vulgari – it knows) is that wildly expensive jewellery brand, owned by LVMH which now gives its name to an hotel. Expanding the branding.