When I visited The Capital about six years ago, I was blown away by the…
“With its low lighting, shabby chic whitewashed interior and wooden chairs, not to mention Jill greeting guests with “Bonsoir!”, you could almost convince me that I was in France.”
“When a new restaurant opens in St James, critics from leftie-communist-vegetarian newspapers sigh heavily; they reach for the thesaurus to find a superfluity of words to describe what was an overpriced, mediocre meal…”
“Café Boulud, humming quietly beneath The Surrey hotel, a hive of monochromatic luxury on the Upper East Side.”
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.
Tucked neatly away at the far end of a mews off Berkeley Square lies Bellamy’s Restaurant. I suspect there’s a strong argument to state that Bellamy’s might be the most civilised dining room in London.
“Celebrity chefs are somewhat rare in France, a country that takes its food very seriously. Culinary masters should be slogging it out in the kitchen rather than gracing television screens, many would agree.”
“As you enter the Brasserie you will be greeted by a perfectly polished staff member, who leads you through the spacious dining room, filled with railway-era accents: polished steel railings, cobalt blue booths, mahogany chairs and slate floors.”
“There was a time when the corner of Bethnal Green Road was not the epicentre of distressed, broken down cool; a time when bags were cheap plastic, rather than vintage Chanel.”
“The Westbury is one of Mayfair’s more understated hotel addresses. Tucked away between the hedge funds and art galleries, away from the gaze of shoppers and tourists, it luxuriates gently, with a quiet confidence.”
“‘Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning…’ My sentiments exactly Mr Capote, for there is something fresh and exciting about this time of the year…”