This country seems to suffer from a lack of understanding when it comes to Asian…
Jonesy revisits the Michelin-starred Indian restaurant Quilon at Buckingham Gate, where “flavours dance in harmony on the tongue while the stomach eagerly awaits their company”.
“I’m standing in a snaking queue populated by gazelle-like glamazons in six-inch Louboutins and slinky Issa dresses. Peering behind me, I spot former England football coach Sven-Göran Eriksson in a charcoal grey suit.”
Gabrielle skips over to Victoria to feast on deep-fried ice cream, among other delicious treats, at Grand Imperial London; the first UK restaurant from celebrated Hong Kong chef Rand Cheung.
One of the memorable aspects from my Thailand tour some years ago was of the country’s affinity with displaying their menus in pictures. Soho’s Benja Bangkok Table has stayed true to tradition, with a gallery of dishes pinned to the window.
Camélia, the restaurant at France’s first Mandarin Oriental in Paris, is a cocoon from the commerce and costly shine alongside the hotel’s Saint-Honoré entrance. Douglas enjoys a memorable birthday lunch.
“Ghee-splattered jeans and starched, white cuffs that bear the deep, indelible stains of turmeric-laced mishaps. These are just the temporary scars that the uninhibited curry-lover has to bear.”
“I found Tsuru in its metallic City cave. A steady flow of suited zombies entered and ordered, their lunch neatly boxed in sushi selections and Bentos. We began where all good meals should: with green tea and a Scotch egg.”
Kajitsu, the name of the discreet subterranean Japanese restaurant in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, means ‘a fine day’, something you can be assured of should your diurnal cycle conclude within its enlightening confines…
Vivid photographs of spices, stained glass and wooden lanterns, emerald green, red and sand cushions, double-handled wok bathroom sinks. If there was a ‘best decorated Indian restaurant’ accolade, Potli would surely scoop it.