...as I fortunately remembered after L and I ran away from the work thing we were supposed to be doing on Friday night... given we were in the vicinity of Befnal Green, we decided to rock up to Bistroteque, a brilliant venue tucked away in possibly the most unassuming building on the most unassuming street ever. I've not been there for ages but was reminded why I love it: the bar is a fabulous shade of gun metal, mixed with flea market chairs, chandeliers and beautiful people; upstairs the restuarant is simple, loud, and on saturday nights, host to some lip-syncing trannies. Still, if that's what I'm looking for I guess I don't need to travel so far... one of these days I am going to get to the Royal Vauxhall Tavern (original home to Lily Savage), which I used to walk past in envy most days for how much fun its crowd always seems to be having. You don't have to be gay... but I think it helps...
Showing posts with label restaurants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label restaurants. Show all posts
Sunday, 6 April 2008
Sunday, 30 March 2008
Eastern promises
I spent large amounts of yesterday trying to deliver on my promise of organising a date, and kicking myself for forgetting that other Londoners are uncannily savvy and always getting in there first, doing annoying things like booking up all the places i'd like to go. However, looking on the bright side, (a) I spent lots of time checking out places that I intend to return to, and (b) I reconnected with the wonderfulness that is Time Out after a couple of months of ignoring it.
And as it happened, eventually a cunning plan came together, which proved to be lovely despite the inevitable lateness-caused-by-rubbish-traffic that always characterises my interactions with any area near Liverpool Street. We wound up at the Eyre Brothers restaurant, where I apparently ordered the thing on the menu designed exclusively for girls (herbs and cress and walnuts, yum) whilst S consumed a steak bigger than my head. This restaurant is text book good - dark wood, delightful waiters who forgave my earlier rudeness on the phone, well-spaced tables, great loos. I gather it is part of the chain that also runs Cigala so I unwittingly have been handing them fistfuls of cash in recent weeks. But I don't really mind cos they're lovely.
From there we went on to Green and Red, which I can't stop calling Green and Blacks, even though I don't even like chocolate much. N was full flow at her leaving do, and it was lovely to see her, and various other former workmates, as well as a surprising number of thinktank boys who all appeared to be there as the arm candy of their girlfriends who were in N's book club. A little out of place amidst music bordering on cheesy in a Mexican basement bar, but still...
It all got a bit messy thanks to sherry mixed with wine mixed with margharitas mixed with rum and cokes, but that was probably a good thing given we more or less walked home thanks to the serious lack of taxis (what was it T was saying about no one taking taxis since Bear Stearns???)
And I now have a whole bank of other nice bars and restaurants i need to pay a visit to in that area... including the Great Eastern Dining Room which looks gorgeous and would contribute to my mission to eat my way round the world without leaving London. Similarly, and coming highly recommended by L, the East room follows the Milk and Honey concept with the whole impossible to find entrance, deliciously dark and sexy interior, and top quality cocktails (not that I particularly want to think about that today). Slightly further afield is the Buen Ayre steak house in 'gritty' Hackney... er... or upmarket Broadway Market, depending on what you're reading... and according to this review, 'a good place to take fat friends to'. genius.
And as it happened, eventually a cunning plan came together, which proved to be lovely despite the inevitable lateness-caused-by-rubbish-traffic that always characterises my interactions with any area near Liverpool Street. We wound up at the Eyre Brothers restaurant, where I apparently ordered the thing on the menu designed exclusively for girls (herbs and cress and walnuts, yum) whilst S consumed a steak bigger than my head. This restaurant is text book good - dark wood, delightful waiters who forgave my earlier rudeness on the phone, well-spaced tables, great loos. I gather it is part of the chain that also runs Cigala so I unwittingly have been handing them fistfuls of cash in recent weeks. But I don't really mind cos they're lovely.
From there we went on to Green and Red, which I can't stop calling Green and Blacks, even though I don't even like chocolate much. N was full flow at her leaving do, and it was lovely to see her, and various other former workmates, as well as a surprising number of thinktank boys who all appeared to be there as the arm candy of their girlfriends who were in N's book club. A little out of place amidst music bordering on cheesy in a Mexican basement bar, but still...
It all got a bit messy thanks to sherry mixed with wine mixed with margharitas mixed with rum and cokes, but that was probably a good thing given we more or less walked home thanks to the serious lack of taxis (what was it T was saying about no one taking taxis since Bear Stearns???)
And I now have a whole bank of other nice bars and restaurants i need to pay a visit to in that area... including the Great Eastern Dining Room which looks gorgeous and would contribute to my mission to eat my way round the world without leaving London. Similarly, and coming highly recommended by L, the East room follows the Milk and Honey concept with the whole impossible to find entrance, deliciously dark and sexy interior, and top quality cocktails (not that I particularly want to think about that today). Slightly further afield is the Buen Ayre steak house in 'gritty' Hackney... er... or upmarket Broadway Market, depending on what you're reading... and according to this review, 'a good place to take fat friends to'. genius.
Thursday, 20 March 2008
Blogs wot I should have wrote
Blimey. What a couple of months. Less said about them the better. So rather than dwell on the utter misery of being overworked, homeless, and frankly a little directionless job-wise, here's quick round up of the good moments that kept me from a nervous breakdown...
I've got good at going to the cinema (warm, dark, not dusty, easy distraction by way of a big screen etc). Clearly I've been in the market for soppy films, loving both Juno (booed my eyes out, but it's ok cos no one was looking) and Be Kind Rewind. On the latter, I think I may be in love with Mos Def, and of course Michel Gondry, whose brilliance gave us this film AND Eternal Sunshine. Beautiful.
Cultural activities have suffered somewhat, although I've got good at finding cheap places to eat out. Top of that list is my lovely local Bonnington Cafe. Each night a different member of the community cooks (a mere tenner for 3 huge courses); it's BYO and no corkage; they have a pianist that could give Ciao Bella's a run for their money; last time I went, they were packed but still gave us a seat in the upstairs kitchen, bless them. We ate our food watching the tango class leaving the community hall nearby. Honestly, it's enough to make you want to wear sandals and buy a goat.
I also had the pleasure of experiencing Time Out's favourite cheap-end Chinese restaurant, Dragon's Castle, with S&A&R. It tasted good (so did the huge amounts of beer we got through) and gave us the courage we needed to then head to the hardcore Spanish drinking den - can't remember the name so no link - actually in the pink monstrosity otherwise known as the shopping centre. Here, you can get 5 litre bottles of beer (see a theme to our evening?) which we resisted in favour of gawping at the semi-pornographic content of a random music channel being screened.
Pubs have also featured - two in particular that I like despite slightly snippy reviews from others, including the Duke of Cambridge, a beautiful organic pub in Islington (biggest downside) that sells great English wine and has fit bar men. I spent election night 2005 warming up there before the BBC party (dahling) but haven't been since... will be back there for food, and soon. The other pub is a little closer to home, the Mason's Arms in Battersea, where I tried to go before for an ultimately disastrous 27th birthday. My usual jinx applied and the oven was broken. In the event, all my friends fell out anyway, the man of the time couldn't come because he had an infected tongue (no joke) and all round I vowed never again to have a cosy dinner for my birthday...
The next few months are going to be much more fun. I know it. Just v glad to be out the other side of these last few...
I've got good at going to the cinema (warm, dark, not dusty, easy distraction by way of a big screen etc). Clearly I've been in the market for soppy films, loving both Juno (booed my eyes out, but it's ok cos no one was looking) and Be Kind Rewind. On the latter, I think I may be in love with Mos Def, and of course Michel Gondry, whose brilliance gave us this film AND Eternal Sunshine. Beautiful.
Cultural activities have suffered somewhat, although I've got good at finding cheap places to eat out. Top of that list is my lovely local Bonnington Cafe. Each night a different member of the community cooks (a mere tenner for 3 huge courses); it's BYO and no corkage; they have a pianist that could give Ciao Bella's a run for their money; last time I went, they were packed but still gave us a seat in the upstairs kitchen, bless them. We ate our food watching the tango class leaving the community hall nearby. Honestly, it's enough to make you want to wear sandals and buy a goat.
I also had the pleasure of experiencing Time Out's favourite cheap-end Chinese restaurant, Dragon's Castle, with S&A&R. It tasted good (so did the huge amounts of beer we got through) and gave us the courage we needed to then head to the hardcore Spanish drinking den - can't remember the name so no link - actually in the pink monstrosity otherwise known as the shopping centre. Here, you can get 5 litre bottles of beer (see a theme to our evening?) which we resisted in favour of gawping at the semi-pornographic content of a random music channel being screened.
Pubs have also featured - two in particular that I like despite slightly snippy reviews from others, including the Duke of Cambridge, a beautiful organic pub in Islington (biggest downside) that sells great English wine and has fit bar men. I spent election night 2005 warming up there before the BBC party (dahling) but haven't been since... will be back there for food, and soon. The other pub is a little closer to home, the Mason's Arms in Battersea, where I tried to go before for an ultimately disastrous 27th birthday. My usual jinx applied and the oven was broken. In the event, all my friends fell out anyway, the man of the time couldn't come because he had an infected tongue (no joke) and all round I vowed never again to have a cosy dinner for my birthday...
The next few months are going to be much more fun. I know it. Just v glad to be out the other side of these last few...
Sunday, 27 January 2008
Vox in Observer Food Monthly shocker
Blimey. Jay Rayner has got off his ass and come down to Vox to review Hot Stuff on Wilcox Road (thanks, I). Now, given it's in Vauxhall, you'd be forgiven for deducing from its name that this venue is the latest fisting club or something similar but less salubrious. In fact, it's a pretty cool sounding curry house. I think the fact that the Observer have been down here is a good thing, if only because it's reminded me that I've wanted to go there for a long time. BYO, no corkage, and the inevitable formica tables. As if that weren't enough, it's got fairy lights and plastic peppers too. Perhaps one to combine with my newly christened local, the Vauxhall Griffin.
Friday, 25 January 2008
Friday night a-gender
Tonight I had a narrow (sorry G) escape from a work-related medieval banquet - instead I've had a lovely evening thinking about sexual politics in a whole range of settings....
First off, the minging (hello, am I 18??) Ha Ha bar on Villiers Street where I found myself testing and proving my current theory about the increasingly gendered nature of book covers. As a girl, I am apparently supposed to be drawn to silly lettering, pinks, abstacts, words like 'love' in the title; the depressing fact is that try as I might, those publishers are right - I'm just not interested in those boy covers featuring embossed words, hints of adventures, greys and reds...
Anyway. Second setting. We wound up in one of my preferred London streets, at one of my preferred chains - Bertorelli on Charlotte Street, where I had a super evening with A, full of prosecco and retail chat. He amused me by combining the ultimate girl pizza (fiorentina) with boy ingredients (jalapeno peppers and pepperoni). It reminded me of when I worked at Pizza Express and a particularly loved up couple asked me to guess their order, and nearly fell off their chairs when I got it exactly right. What they didn't know is that *every* new couple who came in wanted a fiorentina (well done egg) and american hot. Comfortingly predictable. But worth the generous tip.
And finally - the rather lewd fag + vodka chat that finished off our evening outside the Fitzroy Tavern. I'd last been there with H, where we'd had a huge argument about what constitutes a true feminist. We ditched any arguments about principles tonight though, instead zoning in on sex, and laughing ourselves silly about how men and women react so differently to coming. Definitely teenage; but despite the whole notquitethirty thing, helpfully illuminating at the same time... for us as well as for the other people around us, I suspect...
First off, the minging (hello, am I 18??) Ha Ha bar on Villiers Street where I found myself testing and proving my current theory about the increasingly gendered nature of book covers. As a girl, I am apparently supposed to be drawn to silly lettering, pinks, abstacts, words like 'love' in the title; the depressing fact is that try as I might, those publishers are right - I'm just not interested in those boy covers featuring embossed words, hints of adventures, greys and reds...
Anyway. Second setting. We wound up in one of my preferred London streets, at one of my preferred chains - Bertorelli on Charlotte Street, where I had a super evening with A, full of prosecco and retail chat. He amused me by combining the ultimate girl pizza (fiorentina) with boy ingredients (jalapeno peppers and pepperoni). It reminded me of when I worked at Pizza Express and a particularly loved up couple asked me to guess their order, and nearly fell off their chairs when I got it exactly right. What they didn't know is that *every* new couple who came in wanted a fiorentina (well done egg) and american hot. Comfortingly predictable. But worth the generous tip.
And finally - the rather lewd fag + vodka chat that finished off our evening outside the Fitzroy Tavern. I'd last been there with H, where we'd had a huge argument about what constitutes a true feminist. We ditched any arguments about principles tonight though, instead zoning in on sex, and laughing ourselves silly about how men and women react so differently to coming. Definitely teenage; but despite the whole notquitethirty thing, helpfully illuminating at the same time... for us as well as for the other people around us, I suspect...
Monday, 21 January 2008
Happiness is...
... a walk along the river at night. Today is supposedly the most depressing day of the year but I beg to differ. I'm just home after a lovely evening of talking cults, social movements, the tyranny of online life (erm...), and political gossip with D. In a marked departure from our usual line in dire bars, we went to one of the nicer hotel restaurants in town, Refettorio (forgive the pretentious name) at the Crowne Plaza hotel near Blackfriars. Being vaguely sensible for a Monday night, we said goodbye in enough time for me to meander home via a windswept walk along the river.
After all my recent London restlessness, it's refreshed me, and now, like the loser I am, I'm feeling rather soppy about the place. The lights of the southbank looked so pretty; the wheel has switched from its standard blue light mode and is doing all sorts of crazy things; and I crossed the river at Westminster so that I could do my favourite part of the walk, accompanied by some old-skool Pixies, on the south side opposite the houses of parliament. It's the one time that I forgive tourists for standing in the way of my power walking - man, if I 'd had a camera with me I'd be taking pictures too.
So now I'm home, putting off the packing up I'm supposed to be doing in advance of the arrival of the builders tomorrow morning... one of these days I'll live somewhere else, but right now - it's all about London...
After all my recent London restlessness, it's refreshed me, and now, like the loser I am, I'm feeling rather soppy about the place. The lights of the southbank looked so pretty; the wheel has switched from its standard blue light mode and is doing all sorts of crazy things; and I crossed the river at Westminster so that I could do my favourite part of the walk, accompanied by some old-skool Pixies, on the south side opposite the houses of parliament. It's the one time that I forgive tourists for standing in the way of my power walking - man, if I 'd had a camera with me I'd be taking pictures too.
So now I'm home, putting off the packing up I'm supposed to be doing in advance of the arrival of the builders tomorrow morning... one of these days I'll live somewhere else, but right now - it's all about London...
Sunday, 20 January 2008
Muchos tapas
OK so my Spanish leaves something to be desired but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy tapas every once in a while. I wound up in Cigala last night, having briefly considered Barrafina, which I really want to try but as S and I agreed, perhaps not at 9pm on a Saturday night when apparently the whole of London was out (if the amount of booked-upness is anything to go by). Perhaps everyone is tiring of the whole January detox tedium.I really like Cigala, esp their squid in mojo sauce (yes, really), and esp after having such a brilliant evening there. We ended up in the downstairs bar, empty but for us and a miserable couple who were taking their bitterness out on the lovely waiter. As we'd just seen No Country for Old Men - N was right about it being a film of pure genius - we found ourselves imagining ducking bullets and oxygen cylinders behind the various red pillars as we sipped our mighty fine sherry.
London tapas can be pretty dodgy and I confess I haven't ventured that far into the posh tapas territory of places like Fino and The Providores and Tapa Room. However I am much more familiar with the local Vox mish-mash of Spanish and Portuguese places where the tables are formica, the beer costs a pound a bottle, and the football's never off (the pic here of Little Portugal aka South Lambeth Road was taken on the day of the world cup final). I love a few of those places depsite the fact I've had a few really unpleasant meals to sort the wheat from the chaff....
Rebato's is probably my favourite, with its faded red velvet banquettes, and a fancy back room full of ferns and mirrors. I wish I'd known D and A when they had their 'we're not married' reception there - must have been a brilliant night. Estrela is perfect for coffee and people-watching. Madeira cafe, now that it's opened up its restaurant, is great fun and has a good line in blue lighting, which shouldn't work but somehow it does. Others that come highly recommended by people who know more than me are A Toca, not so far from the gym; and O Cantinho - on the Stockwell Road but don't hold that against it.
Tuesday, 1 January 2008
Stop press: booze that helps your memory
Hmm. Not sure about the logic of the argument that vodka in any form can improve your memory, but given the dire state of mine these days I'm willing to give anything a go. So (apart from being a welcome reprieve from last week's turkey and family overload) the Shochu lounge on Charlotte Street came in very handy - it sells shochu, a Japanese version of vodka that comes in hundreds of flavours, including the raspberry one which is the memory-helping infusion. You can also get help for virility, depression, humour (sounds like a number of my dates should be paying this bar a visit...)
The website for this place is bloody annoying but the actual venue is great. Perfect lighting, a wicked gimmick in the form of a HUGE ice block that they use to make the drinks, lots of enticing reds and dark woods which (a) make you feel cocooned and safe and (b) make you want to stay for much longer than you probably should. Clever eh. I'm pretty keen to go back there and try out the restaurant that Shochu hides beneath - Roka, the sister restaurant to Knightsbridge's Zuma, which has had all sorts of mouthwatering reviews.
For the record, despite my eager raspberry shochu drinking efforts, I can't really remember what we did afterwards, but to my shame I think it involved doughballs.
The website for this place is bloody annoying but the actual venue is great. Perfect lighting, a wicked gimmick in the form of a HUGE ice block that they use to make the drinks, lots of enticing reds and dark woods which (a) make you feel cocooned and safe and (b) make you want to stay for much longer than you probably should. Clever eh. I'm pretty keen to go back there and try out the restaurant that Shochu hides beneath - Roka, the sister restaurant to Knightsbridge's Zuma, which has had all sorts of mouthwatering reviews.
For the record, despite my eager raspberry shochu drinking efforts, I can't really remember what we did afterwards, but to my shame I think it involved doughballs.
Wednesday, 12 December 2007
Love is all around me
When I started writing this blog, I wasn't quite thirty, and I wasn't quite a homeowner, I didn't have a man and I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. Today has rather challenged the whole name of this blog, being my 30th birthday etc, but hey, it's all about a mindset, right? Oh and I suppose I've owned a flat for a few months too, but frankly the big questions that really matter are yet to be answered. Hunting for men and meaning look set to continue for some time yet.
But I'm really fine with that. I've had such a lovely day, full of love, affection, friendship and warmth that I feel quite overwhelmed by it all. I am incredibly lucky and today has been all about realising that and savouring the feeling. Which I did in various places, with various lovely people. Beyond the medium of text (oh to have a phone with some proper memory so I could store messages) and FB, these places included Leon, which, joy of joys, gives FREE wifi access. Now there's a place I'll buy coffee. In fact I'm due back there tomorrow morning, this time the Carnaby Street branch, with my mad and lovely mother at some unfeasibly early hour. Another feature of today was Joe Allen's, which I just love, especially seeing the pleasure in my father's face when he realised you really *can* order the hamburger, even though it's not on the menu... We'll perhaps gloss over the Thistle hotel in Victoria, where I spent two hours hatching plans. Despite the plotting, which was enormous fun, it's really not a place I can recommend.
Anyway. For those of you who have suggested the name of this blog is now out of date: I was thirty at 12.01pm today, and therefore (if I'm being pedantic) I remain notquitethirty... and besides, no one's yet come up with a better name...
But I'm really fine with that. I've had such a lovely day, full of love, affection, friendship and warmth that I feel quite overwhelmed by it all. I am incredibly lucky and today has been all about realising that and savouring the feeling. Which I did in various places, with various lovely people. Beyond the medium of text (oh to have a phone with some proper memory so I could store messages) and FB, these places included Leon, which, joy of joys, gives FREE wifi access. Now there's a place I'll buy coffee. In fact I'm due back there tomorrow morning, this time the Carnaby Street branch, with my mad and lovely mother at some unfeasibly early hour. Another feature of today was Joe Allen's, which I just love, especially seeing the pleasure in my father's face when he realised you really *can* order the hamburger, even though it's not on the menu... We'll perhaps gloss over the Thistle hotel in Victoria, where I spent two hours hatching plans. Despite the plotting, which was enormous fun, it's really not a place I can recommend.
Anyway. For those of you who have suggested the name of this blog is now out of date: I was thirty at 12.01pm today, and therefore (if I'm being pedantic) I remain notquitethirty... and besides, no one's yet come up with a better name...
Sunday, 9 December 2007
Steaks, mmm
It's a strange fact of my life that everyone always thinks I'm vegetarian. It's a mystery to me, but I'm pleased to declare that I am really rather fond of proper meat these days (although Macdonald's can still go to hell). So sometimes a girl's got to eat steak. Generally speaking, I do it with a glass of red wine in front of a good film on a Sunday night. But I think I may have found a place where I'd like to depart from this ritual. The Bountiful Cow in Holborn is a rare find: a really lovely, warm pub, serving various forms of MEAT (as in proper, hardcore meat - i mean they even had rillettes on the menu), decent sized tables, space. I like. I like a lot.
I haven't yet sampled their food, as I've only been for a drink there (and a strangely comforting and honest conversation with S), but I fully intend to return when it's time for my red meat hit.
Other places that I'd like to eat meat include St John (still not been, in truth I'm a little intimidated), and the Cheyne Walk brasserie, which is possibly one of the prettiest restaurants I've ever been to, and a great line in cooking your steak or whatever on the grill in the restaurant. It's been too long since I ate duck at Mon Plaisir; and one of these days I want to get to Roast in Borough Market.
I haven't yet sampled their food, as I've only been for a drink there (and a strangely comforting and honest conversation with S), but I fully intend to return when it's time for my red meat hit.
Other places that I'd like to eat meat include St John (still not been, in truth I'm a little intimidated), and the Cheyne Walk brasserie, which is possibly one of the prettiest restaurants I've ever been to, and a great line in cooking your steak or whatever on the grill in the restaurant. It's been too long since I ate duck at Mon Plaisir; and one of these days I want to get to Roast in Borough Market.
Saturday, 17 November 2007
Au revoir, Lav
So tonight I visited the Lavender for the last time and now I'm sad. I've been going there for 6 years now, and still remember the first time I went, with M and my parents, to have a glass of wine and discuss why it was that buying a tiny, almost uninhabitable flat for £250k in Stockwell was such a bad idea (clue: it was none of the reasons stated here).
Since then I've been countless times, but in the last 18 months it really has come into its own as the haven that C and I retreat to every fortnight or so for exactly the same thing (she: chicken, no red wine jus crap, glass of chianti; me: tomato bruschetta and rocket, glass of sauv blanc; us: extensive gossip of all things work and boy related). I am just SO SAD that it is closing. We have yet to formulate a plan B that combines the same things of ridiculous proximity to both of us, great waiters who know us inside out, and guaranteed table.
There are of course other branches, as I well know - after all I did live above one of them for 2 years. The good news is that the closure of 'our' branch sees their pizza oven being donated to the Vox branch. And then there's the one on Lavender Hill. I remember going there once with GJ, only to find their oven was broken (this has happened to me three times, am I a jinx I wonder??) so there was nothing to do other than resort to wine.
Goodbye Lavender, we will miss you.
Since then I've been countless times, but in the last 18 months it really has come into its own as the haven that C and I retreat to every fortnight or so for exactly the same thing (she: chicken, no red wine jus crap, glass of chianti; me: tomato bruschetta and rocket, glass of sauv blanc; us: extensive gossip of all things work and boy related). I am just SO SAD that it is closing. We have yet to formulate a plan B that combines the same things of ridiculous proximity to both of us, great waiters who know us inside out, and guaranteed table.
There are of course other branches, as I well know - after all I did live above one of them for 2 years. The good news is that the closure of 'our' branch sees their pizza oven being donated to the Vox branch. And then there's the one on Lavender Hill. I remember going there once with GJ, only to find their oven was broken (this has happened to me three times, am I a jinx I wonder??) so there was nothing to do other than resort to wine.
Goodbye Lavender, we will miss you.
Wednesday, 14 November 2007
Random Italians that I love
I had a brilliant night tonight with a bunch of old friends brought together by the medium otherwise known as Facebook. Rather than waffle on about the power of social networking, or wondering how it is that we all ended up working in social policy one way or another, I'll talk instead about Italian restaurants that I think are cool.
That's because we wound up at Italian Graffiti, possibly a contender for my top five restaurants in London. B, who was there tonight, remembers going there as a kid with his ma for glamorous lunches. Don't think the decor has changed. Cheap, good house wine, great venue, all round top marks from me. Went there first with J-J, one brilliant night where we wound up at Trash Palace via some free champagne (thank you essex banker boy) at the Soho Hotel.
Other wonderful Italians. Well, Ciao Bella has already had its very own posting here. Then there's Donna Margherita, totally unexpected but a delight after any trip to the Battersea Arts Centre, as I found last night after seeing The Human Computer with yet another J. Spiga is a place I've not been to for too long but will be eternally seared onto my brain as the place my beloved G came out to me, over large number of negronis.
And of course there's the Vineyard of Italy in Vauxhall, worth going to simply to enjoy the rudeness of Jay, the human rights student slash waiter who is kind enough to grace said venue with his presence. Currently in receivership, which is gutting, but I am praying it returns in one form or another. Not least because it's five minutes from my house.
That's because we wound up at Italian Graffiti, possibly a contender for my top five restaurants in London. B, who was there tonight, remembers going there as a kid with his ma for glamorous lunches. Don't think the decor has changed. Cheap, good house wine, great venue, all round top marks from me. Went there first with J-J, one brilliant night where we wound up at Trash Palace via some free champagne (thank you essex banker boy) at the Soho Hotel.
Other wonderful Italians. Well, Ciao Bella has already had its very own posting here. Then there's Donna Margherita, totally unexpected but a delight after any trip to the Battersea Arts Centre, as I found last night after seeing The Human Computer with yet another J. Spiga is a place I've not been to for too long but will be eternally seared onto my brain as the place my beloved G came out to me, over large number of negronis.
And of course there's the Vineyard of Italy in Vauxhall, worth going to simply to enjoy the rudeness of Jay, the human rights student slash waiter who is kind enough to grace said venue with his presence. Currently in receivership, which is gutting, but I am praying it returns in one form or another. Not least because it's five minutes from my house.
Sunday, 11 November 2007
China in your hand
Ever since I went to Shanghai in 2004 I've been on the look out for good Chinese places in London. It's now the standard Time Out line to assert that the days of bad tempered waiters and MSG on Gerrard Street are over; but it's still hard to find places that really hit the spot. I'm not a Chinese purist but what I want is the tastes and colours of the orient. my that sounds colonial.
Of course, there's Hakkasan, where I went, unexpectedly, for dinner with J a few weeks ago. Sadly my unpreparedness meant I was carrying a luminous yellow Snappy Snaps carrier bag. Pure class. Not necessarily my accessory of choice for a place so stuffed with carefully produced women in expensive clothes. However, I don't think it's so much better than Bam-Bou that it can justify its eye-watering prices. Bam-Bou: heaven, via Caprice Holdings. I could eat their salt and pepper beef forever. And the bar at the top is one of the best kept secrets of the west end. Don't really know why I'm talking about it here in fact. Shanghai Blues also deserves a mention - the food's not anything special, but I love their upstairs cocktail bar and they play great jazz.
However, for those times when a full-on meal is not in order, there's always Yauatcha. Though it's not easy to get in there - in which case I am seriously impressed by a new discovery - Dim T. I went to the one on Charlotte Street, but there are others, including one at London Bridge, otherwise known as a depressing food desert. Really good dim sum, amazingly cheap and would you believe it, they even have a branch in Maidstone. That means there is a reason to go to Maidstone. Incredible.
Other places I'd like to try but haven't yet: Pearl Liang (Sheldon Squ), Royal China Club (Baker St), and Bar Shu (Frith St)...
Of course, there's Hakkasan, where I went, unexpectedly, for dinner with J a few weeks ago. Sadly my unpreparedness meant I was carrying a luminous yellow Snappy Snaps carrier bag. Pure class. Not necessarily my accessory of choice for a place so stuffed with carefully produced women in expensive clothes. However, I don't think it's so much better than Bam-Bou that it can justify its eye-watering prices. Bam-Bou: heaven, via Caprice Holdings. I could eat their salt and pepper beef forever. And the bar at the top is one of the best kept secrets of the west end. Don't really know why I'm talking about it here in fact. Shanghai Blues also deserves a mention - the food's not anything special, but I love their upstairs cocktail bar and they play great jazz.
However, for those times when a full-on meal is not in order, there's always Yauatcha. Though it's not easy to get in there - in which case I am seriously impressed by a new discovery - Dim T. I went to the one on Charlotte Street, but there are others, including one at London Bridge, otherwise known as a depressing food desert. Really good dim sum, amazingly cheap and would you believe it, they even have a branch in Maidstone. That means there is a reason to go to Maidstone. Incredible.
Other places I'd like to try but haven't yet: Pearl Liang (Sheldon Squ), Royal China Club (Baker St), and Bar Shu (Frith St)...
Saturday, 18 August 2007
Kensington Roof Gardens
I remember going to this building when it was a big, hot goth's dream. How different it is now... there's the Whole Foods supermarket with canteen (well, next door anyway) and this roof garden which sounds genuinely excellent - and it's a huge 1.5 acres big... Friday and Saturday nights involve Tudor barbeques (??) and a club.
Monday, 16 July 2007
I heart the South Bank
God, I don't think there's been more than 48 hours in the last three weeks where I haven't at some point found myself on the South Bank. What a great place. I love the fact that you don't need to buy anything to enjoy the space. I love the open-ness of the RFH. I love the glass and stone of it all. I love the water installations. You get the picture: I'm quite a fan. Anyway I was there again today and had 15 minutes to kill as I awaited a first date (not the best start to a beautiful relationship) and found yet more cool stuff. If only I could marry the South Bank and be done with these silly boys.
Take for example Late Lounge at the Terrace Cafe of the National Theatre, 10pm-1am on Fridays and Saturdays during summer - the unique 'Bring and Share' DIY disco. Or St Etienne's Turntable Cafe nights held monthly(ish). Or Benugo at the BFI. Super super, the lot of them.
Take for example Late Lounge at the Terrace Cafe of the National Theatre, 10pm-1am on Fridays and Saturdays during summer - the unique 'Bring and Share' DIY disco. Or St Etienne's Turntable Cafe nights held monthly(ish). Or Benugo at the BFI. Super super, the lot of them.
Sunday, 8 July 2007
New Sardinian outpost: Belgravia
There really isn't much to recommend the Victoria end of Belgravia. It's where Mrs Thatcher lives. It has the coach station. It has no newsagents. It has a pub full of braying rahs. Oh and it has two of my favourite restaurants ever. Damn.
Olivo and it's cheaper sister Oliveto are both brilliant examples of what restaurants should be about. Both Sardinian in flavour, the former does some serious meat 'n' fish; the latter great pastas, pizzas and a few fishy things. The waiters are cool, the wine is cheap and hangover-friendly, the tables are close together but somehow that doesn't matter too much.
Clearly the owner of these two lovely places has got sick of turning people like me away when I try (in vain) to book tables for 2 for the same day, and I see he's just opened a third restaurant: Olivomare (time to place your bets on what the fourth one's going to be called) - fish, fish and fish again. Sounds great. Only bad news is that according Time Out, they're already turning down bookings. Grr.
Olivo is on Eccleston Street, 020 7730 2505. Oliveto is on Elizabeth Street, 020 7730 0074. Olivomare is on Lower Belgave Street, 020 7730 9022.
Olivo and it's cheaper sister Oliveto are both brilliant examples of what restaurants should be about. Both Sardinian in flavour, the former does some serious meat 'n' fish; the latter great pastas, pizzas and a few fishy things. The waiters are cool, the wine is cheap and hangover-friendly, the tables are close together but somehow that doesn't matter too much.
Clearly the owner of these two lovely places has got sick of turning people like me away when I try (in vain) to book tables for 2 for the same day, and I see he's just opened a third restaurant: Olivomare (time to place your bets on what the fourth one's going to be called) - fish, fish and fish again. Sounds great. Only bad news is that according Time Out, they're already turning down bookings. Grr.
Olivo is on Eccleston Street, 020 7730 2505. Oliveto is on Elizabeth Street, 020 7730 0074. Olivomare is on Lower Belgave Street, 020 7730 9022.
Saturday, 23 June 2007
EV
I *think* this is the super cool place I peer down at from the train between Waterloo East and London Bridge. It's full of fairy lights AND it's under some railway arches. If I'm right (my, this is all rather speculative) it's part of the Tas chain. Time to get down there. Isabella Street, 020 7620 6191.
The Wallace
The Wallace on Manchester Square is London's nearest equivalent to the Frick, which makes it a brilliant place in my books. It's open every day 10-5pm. Haven't yet managed to go to the new Peyton restaurant there, although it sounds great. They also do afternoon teas (a date option, perhaps?) and brunches. Shuts at 4pm on Sundays but otherwise last booking is at 9.30pm each night.
Camino
I am beginning to assemble enough things to do in King's Cross to head there on a night out soon... so this new Spanish tapas place in Varnishers Yard (Regent Quarter) has got me excited. A distinct improvement on Pico's take on both 'tapas' and 'tasteful decor'. Sounds like it has a lovely courtyard for boozing too.
Great Queen Street
The latest venture by the guys behind Anchor and Hope. Also currently one of the most-searched for restaurants on the Time Out site so maybe best leave it till things have calmed down a bit... though you can book tables there - 020 7242 0622. You would never guess it, but it's on Great Queen Street.
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