Category Archives: Eating Out

Suddenly they’re everywhere. After years of rigorous suppression in favour of Italian/Spanish/Modern European/Contemporary British/Ersatz Japanese-effect pastiches, French brasseries and bistros (or is it bistrots?) are back in force. In the last fewish months the Brasserie Zedel and Cafe Colbert, Balthazar … Continue reading →

Dorego’s, there’s nowhere quite like it. Never has been, I dare say. One of a kind, a sort of a bar, a sort of a restaurant, seedy, louche, easy-paced, open-hearted, democratic, with the beauty of the truly idiosyncratic, sui generis, … Continue reading →

It’s always a pleasure to catch up with an old friend, particularly when you find they’ve hardly changed in, oooo, it must be forty years or so. Simpson’s Tavern, aka Simpson’s of Cornhill is one of the places to which … Continue reading →

Mark Hix’s Tramshed is a beast in every sense of the word – vast space (it really was a shed for trams); vaulting glass ceiling; bar the length of the room; 130 covers; Damien Hurst art installation of a cow … Continue reading →

Ou sont let plats d’antan? Gone to Zedel, every one of them. A dream of a dream, A dream of filet de hareng, pommes a l’huile,; lapin a la moutarde, baba au rhum, of celeri remoulade; choucroute alsacciene, éclair Paris … Continue reading →

It’s not often you see horse and donkey on the same menu. The place in question was the aptly-named Osteria del Cavaliere in the Piazetta Scala in Verona. It’s more of a wine bar than a restaurant, its walls lined … Continue reading →

You can’t get a table at Dabbous during the week until August. If you want to go over the weekend, you’ll have to wait until October. There hasn’t been a phenomenon like it since the Fat Duck spread its 3 … Continue reading →

It was a slip sole, just a slip sole, slim and elegant, glistening with seaweed butter. No sauce, no veg, no micro-herbs, nothing to distract from the individual beauty of the fish. The flesh was taut and dense, almost muscular. … Continue reading →

The night was wet and Pitt Cue was full. Full as in crowded, heaving, bulging at the seams. People were being turned away from the door. I only just squeaked in because I am very small and I was on … Continue reading →