On the plane the next day, my stomach and mind grumbled and struggled to digest what had happened. My head ached and an overwhelmingly dank sense of disappointment seemed to permeate all things.
Author Noah May
Richard Paterson is known to be the greatest master distiller of his, or any, generation. He has worked for Whyte & Mackay for forty-seven of his sixty-four years.
I am rather surprised, and in truth ever-so-slightly-disappointed when I arrive at Wiltons to be…
Gerrard Street is filled with the Friday night throng. Lights shimmer and glint and delicious smells swell up from busy basement kitchens. The rain pours down in heavy torrents, the streets look like a scene from Blade Runner, steam and smoke rising from the drains.
“The time is around 10.30am, but rather than coffee, I brought a bottle of champagne: Möet – Vintage 1966 – which we’ve dispatched, so we’re in rather high spirits.”
Before I visited The Royal Mansour Hotel, I thought I was only really interested in old hotels; venerable properties with a real sense of history and perhaps a little faded grandeur.,,
“As we settle into our seats with their fraying edges, and frail wooden armrests, we hear a commotion at the table behind us. Without proper warning a man suddenly falls backwards off his chair and rolls onto the floor. He’s ruddy and broken looking.”
The Docklands area is an unknown land for most of us; a mystery for those of us who don’t get to don a well-tailored suit and head off into its murky depths to worship at the slippery altar of high finance.
“It’s extremely rare that I find myself in Parson’s Green. I love London for all its multifarious gastronomic eccentricity; I love diving on a bus and eating Turkish feasts in Haringey, Indian food in Southall, but you’d have to work pretty hard to drag me down to Parson’s Green.”
I first read about The Connaught at an extremely impressionable age. I was too young –it left an indelible, immovable mark on my consciousness. I was fourteen years old, but I remember the sequence of events very clearly.
BRGR.Co. A strange, vowel-less beast that’s popped up on Wardour Street, part of the renaissance of Soho restaurants and the new breed of burger purveyors who’ve set up shop to make the most of London’s burning desire for re-imagined American junk-food.