“I find myself in Bloomsbury’s premier residential street heading towards a restored Victorian pub. I expect to find it full of Dickensian characters, errant domestic servants, chimney sweeps and miscreants.”
Browsing: London Restaurants
“He’s standing at the ham, slicing and sweating and we’re standing at the bar, waiting and salivating – there’s only a thin line between us…my god, I am desperate for that ham.”
“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.”
“London is buzzing with 1920s themed events; a bloody good excuse to reach for the liquor and tassels! I could hardly contain my excitement when I heard about the Speakeasy nights at the elegant J. Sheekey Oyster Bar.”
One cannot fault Charlie McVeigh’s attitude towards beer, and the places that sell the fine hop-laden stuff. After associating himself with countless high-end venues, most notably Rowley Leigh’s Le Cafe Anglais, he has opened a trio of establishments in southwest London that aim to provide interesting and reasonably priced food with a staggeringly ambitious range of beers.
“We all know the attraction of ‘sourcing’ at Borough Market. Somehow in your basket, along with the cheeses, spices, ham, and jam, and other culinary nick-nacks, you are buying credibility, an authenticity that Ocado can’t deliver.”
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.
“The Cumbraes were delectable, tantamount to standing on a seaside peer and having the refreshing surf sprayed into one’s face by a young scoundrel with a water-pistol.” Jonesy dines at Wright Brothers…
Jonesy selflessly braves the chill of a February weekend to humbly feast on lovingly tendered produce from the British Isles, while nobly sipping on fine natural wines in the pious private dining room at Corrigan’s Mayfair. Ahem.
As the aromas of black truffle waft through the restaurant, I glimpse a sea of grey Patrick Batemans, like bowler-hatted figures from a René Magritte painting, interminably colourless against the zest of Mazzei’s cooking.
Theo Randall’s restaurant in the Intercontinental Hotel on Park Lane (one of my favourite areas…