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Dinner by Heston Blumenthal

For those of you who have spent the last year only eating in McDonalds, or who don't care a fig for fine dining, bald headed culinary Wonka Heston Blumenthal (he of the snail porridge and 'food as theatre' TV programmes) has just opened a new restaurant called Dinner on the most expensive street corner in Western Europe. Restaurateurs. Don't. Get. Any. More. Exciting. Than. Him.

The room is fairly generic opulent hotel resto chic. Neutral beige palate, expensive fixtures and a proliferation of men in suits. It is the dining room of the Mandarin Oriental, one of London's most expensive hotels, after all. That being said, there are moments of zany Heston-ism scattered around; jelly moulds act as light fittings, the back bar is lit with gummi coloured bottles of booze and serried ranks of pineapples roast on a spit powered by the largest Swiss watch you'll ever see (I'll come back to those...).

It ain't another Fat Duck. Neither is it just a posh food pit for fat cats to roll around in. It's somewhere between the two, but mostly just a five star hotel restaurant. It's less complex than you'd expect. There's no nine course set tasting menu here (no tasting menu at all, unless you're in the Chef's Table overlooking the pass), just three simple courses, each with 8 or 10 options. Recipes aren't beset with foams and gels and carnival flourish, but are taken from the annals of British food history, the grand dishes served to our forefathers (or at least the forefathers belonging to the monied arseholes in suits).

As you'd expect, the prices are challenging in places, challenging to those not on expense account dining certainly. While there are a number of wines in the 28 page list below £100, the vast bulk of the list is pitched above this point (some considerably so), that being said, we found a very pleasant Fleurie at £45. More surprising is a three course lunch set menu at a very reasonable £28. I go for this while my guest plumps for the a la carte option. I've seen one too many reviews not to have heard of the Meat Fruit, a chicken liver parfait coated in mandarin gel, shaped and textured like a little mandarin. We add one of those to the table too, with the current waiting list at 6 months it's going to be a while before I'm back to try it again. My Ragoo of Pigs Ears is a real star. It's been braised for hours with sweet onion and parsley and the cartilage is sweet and soft, an intensely concentrated meaty kick. Dr Science goes for the Salamagundy, a perfectly constructed and flavoursome hot salad of chicken oysters, bone marrow and a light horseradish cream. If anything it's a little soft and texturally lacking, but that's not much to lay against it. And the Meat Fruit? It's a ball of chicken liver parfait. Strangely tasteless without the char of the sourdough. I don't think I saw a single table go without one though.

The Roast Quail from the set menu was another flavour triumph for my cheaper menu choice. The turnips served with it were subtly smoked and then roasted, just the sort of thing you hope for from Heston. Soft game breast worked well barely cooked, though the just cooked meat was remarkably difficult to separate from the tiny quail legs. The 72 hour slow roast rib of angus beef managed to arouse high passion on arrival, a thick lozenge of dark meat, served with a thick jus, cubes of ox tongue and baby veg. It was good, but certainly not brilliant. The meat had the texture of a hunk of salt beef, and was relatively one dimensional in its flavour. Definitely one that didn't live up to my hype.

That being said, we finished on a storming note, with the Tipsy Cake. A baked brioche, crystal studded with sugar, cooked in cream, Sauternes and brandy. It came served with a slice of the pineapple from earlier mentioned spit roast and my rapidly expiring heart. Pudding perfection from 1810; no wonder they had a life expectancy of less than 45 back then.

Sunday, February 27, 2011
Overall rating
Food 7 | Service 7 | Atmosphere 6 | Value for money 6

Whitechapel Gallery Dining Room

Ramsay protege Angela Hartnett has thrown her hat into the ring with this newly renovated matchbox sized dining room at hip East End Whitechapel Gallery. It's under her 'consultation' along with a company called Smart Hospitality. It smacks slightly of a branding exercise, but the promise of Hartnett's gutsy, honest and simple Italian cooking (along with a fascinating exhibition by collage maker John Stezaker) made us take the trek out east on a frosty February night.

The menu is short, seasonal and flies all over the place. It's more Italian than anything, but only just... Nibbles include a gorgeously grassy olive oil, emerald green and good enough to drink straight - served with slices of sourdough. The list then divides into small and large plates, interchangeable easily, but starter and main for most people's needs. We go for a full-flavoured and rich cauliflower soup, essentially hot cauliflower flavoured cream, tasty but slightly too rich for me. Served with blue cheese beignets, these seem like a step too far. I have Cornish mackerel served with pickled fennel and harissa. It was as nice a piece of the fish as I've ever had, sweet and perfectly cooked. The fennel was a subtle side, heated slightly by the harissa, cutting through the oiliness of the fish without overpowering it. Other options included a healthy sized portion of deep fried squid and a plate of cured salmon served with a sweet mustard potato salad that my guest combined with a beetroot, goats cheese and sweet potato dish for her main options, preferring these to the larger plate options on offer.

My rabbit hot pot was exceptional. Strong flavours combining well to deliver a dish the equal of anything I've eaten at York & Albany. Tiny carrot cubes gave a sweet hit to the small oven pot packed with gamey rabbit. As a side, I went for a portion of truffle chips, the only off note of the meal for me, they arrived slightly limp and over-salted.

The dessert list is similarly bijou, but of enormous interest. A prune and almond tart was rich, moist and (from the tiny amount I was allowed to sample) perfectly balanced. My bitter chocolate pot came in the cliched kilner jar and was as nice a pot as I've had (if not necessarily bitter) set off with a lovely homemade honeycomb.

The buzz and chatter in and about the tiny dining room appears deserved, and I hope that they're able to sustain this level of quality in the months and years to come. If you find yourself in the area, and aren't on a pilgrimage to Tayyabs, then I'd certainly suggest stopping by.

Saturday, February 19, 2011
Overall rating
Food 8 | Service 7 | Atmosphere 7 | Value for money 9

Polpo

Small plate dining, associated with the tapas of Spain and the mezze of Greece and Turkey, appear all over the region. The less known Venetian equivalent, chicchetti, have many similarities. Combinations of meat, fish and vegetables, often served with bread or polenta. Can't go wrong. In the past few years, alongside several excellent new Spanish joints, we've also been lucky enough to welcome both Bocca di Lupo and Polpo to Soho. The latter, a buzzy little place on Beak Street, was opened by Russell Norman (ex Caprice Holdings) to solid reviews and even more solid word of mouth. A strict no bookings policy at this 'locals' restaurant led to regular queues down the street once the word had spread. He's just done it again too, with Polpetto, a beautiful little matchbox above the French House. 

Decorwise, it's got that Soho House style shabby chic look down to pat. low light from bare bulbs and simple furniture bely the thought that has gone into the joint. The staff are friendly and surprisingly relaxed considering the unruly mash of drinkers and diners crammed into their tiny bar space. A smatter of seats aside the bar are the best in the house, keeping you cozily ensconced in the amiable bar crowd. It's not a place for the shrinking violet. The Literary Lady and I are certainly no violets but we struggled to make ourselves heard at times. Like little brother Polpetto, this is definitely somewhere to come and meet and mingle and if you grab a bite, then it's a result. The atmosphere is key to the experience. 

But what of the food? There was a fair amount of it that grabbed us on the throwaway paper menus, and plenty of tasty morsels certain to soak up a lovely big Sagiovese, well priced for house at £16.50. We went for five plates to start and added another two on at the end, greedily tempted by a neighbouring order. Garlicky mushrooms served in a rather dry flatbread was so-so tasty, but no more than you'd expect from a student dinner party. For me, a duff note came with another student standby, sparse handful of garlic prawns, part shelled, in an insipid tomato and bean sauce.

More positive notes came with thick slices of pork belly, tenderly braised and meltingly sweet with hazelnuts and the edge of radicchio. Mackerel tartare is a favourite on the menu, winter and summer, cut through with a horseradish cream, it's a pleasing combination and provides contrast to the meatier dishes. Their polpetta, gamey and (slightly too) salty meatballs are great winter beer fodder but not too sophisticated. The duck ragu was another welcome winter warmer, served with wormlike fingers of strozzapetti pasta and the bite of green peppercorns. Not 'posh nosh' as such, but simple and pleasing. 

Saturday, December 04, 2010
Overall rating
Food 6 | Service 7 | Atmosphere 9 | Value for money 7

Barshu

With who: Seven of us in total, a mix of the great and the good and the work colleagues

How much: £30 a head for a great range between the seven of us. Go in as big a group as you can, better to order more. Other than that most dishes are in the £8 - £12 range and are large servings.

Come here if: you want hot, proper Chinese cooking, without the rough service and beery boys filling most of the Gerrard Street dives. Great for a (fairly adventurous) team night out.

'Chinese cuisine' is a broad label. To sum up all of the different cuisines of such a vast land under one catch all title is impossible, but it's what most Chinese restaurants in this country have been doing for years, in an attempt to cater for unsophisticated or pedestrian palates. Now, like many Indian, Pakistani and Bengali restaurants, they're starting to throw off their generic roots, and cook more authentically, as people increasingly demand it. Bar Shu was one of the original London proponents of this, to the British palate, new style of Chinese cuisine. It's as far away from gloopy, generic MSG laden shit in a tray as you are going to get.

Sichuan food is well known for its heat. The tiny red peppercorns proudly take the name of the province and appear in most dishes paired with fiery dried chillies.. When done well, the aim isn't macho heat but a level of warmth and gradual tingle, raising heartbeat and seratonin levels, like a lighter, benevolent (through still addictive) form of cocaine.

The restaurant recently closed for refurbishment and is a good looking beast now it has reopened. Several floors high on the corner of Romily and Frith Streets, it's not a small place, but it's well appointed in dark intricately carved wood and splashes of bright colour. It's quiet inside, with a hum rather than a buzz. The staff bustle, but don't push and the tables are evenly spaced. The thick menu does a good job with well taken photography and scary warnings in English, detailing the spice quotient of each dish. You won't struggle if you don't speak Mandarin. These menus are normally the signifier for a dumbed down Westernised menu, not seemingly in this case, though there was an absence of cartilage, gizzard and tripe, the usual signifiers of authenticity in a cuisine that favours texture as much as flavour. We weren't craving utter authenticity though, and mindful of the perils of ordering for seven, we instruct our server to bring us a selection.

There's not much that you'll necessarily recognise from your local takeaway (thankfully) but there are a few of the regional Sichuan dishes that have crept into a wider consciousness, notably Gong Bau (or Kung Po) a flash-fried dish often of chicken (here with prawn), lightly flour dusted and fried with a light marinade, peanuts and the lip numbingly warm Sichuan peppercorns. One of the nicest variants I've had of this dish, and the huge portion easily catered for the seven of us, each getting a couple of the large, sweet shellfish.

Thin sliced pork rolls were served room temperature, toothsome and sweetly piquant in a spicy garlic sauce. Shards of blackened beef, mini hot bites like biltong, came embued with rich chilli oils that even pleased the spice neutral South African in the group, comfortable with this North Chinese take on his national dish. Life seldom being about (sadly) meat alone, we grabbed a favourite of mine, the deep fried green beans with minced pork and ya kai, a preserved (and either absent or innocuous) mustard.

A mild and almost soothing cucumber with speckles of pulled pork was interesting, but relatively unforgettable as anything other than a palate cleanser, but there were only a couple of dishes I wouldn't order again. Water boiled pork slices were possibly the least successful. A slightly acrid broth held mushy porky pieces that had been slow soaked in the water over a period of hours (possibly days), unusual texture for the meat, but not anything I'd return to.

Twice cooked pork belly, another Sichuan classic, comes recommended. The pork belly is boiled in a garlic, ginger and salt marinade before being fine sliced and stir-fried. Ants Climbing a Tree is another famous regional dish, thin rice noodles in the ubiquitous chilli oil, with the 'ants' made up of minced pork. It's good, but not worth the trip alone. Boiled beef slices with 'extremely spicy sauce' was overly apocalyptic in its description and while it was warm, the spice built well within the dish rather than beating you around the head. The flavour of the beef came through, and this, despite being one of the last dishes, vanished quickly.

Bar Shu is definitely a recommendation. Compared to some of its siblings over Shaftesbury Avenue and into Chinatown proper, it's clean, friendly and focussed on delivering decent food rather than turnover. Rolling out into a snowy London night, the warmth and satisfaction from the Sichuan heat stayed with me, though that could have been the booze..

Thursday, December 02, 2010
Overall rating
Food 8 | Service 7 | Atmosphere 6 | Value for money 7

Aqua Nueva

Las Vegas is wonderful for many things, among them a real sense of pomp and circumstance around the art of eating. Sure, you can grab a burger, or queue up at the trough of an all you can eat buffet to feed your face with the best of them, but there are plenty of places where flair is key. I was reminded of this as I entered the slightly schizophrenic entrance of Aqua, two restaurants for one, in the old Dickens and Jones store on Argyll Street. Heavy red drapes, suited flunkys and confusing mirrors remind you more of the circus house in Twin Peaks than luxe dining. A lift to the loft disgorges you into another welcome annex, with yet more floating staff, and by the time you enter the main bar you feel thoroughly confused.

The main bar is decorated in a generic international style. Chinoise fabrics, opulent drapes and tall banquette tables surround the semi-circular bar - occupied by skinny pretty girls and the braying suits who pay for them flood the space. From the main bar, the space leads off to a Japanese restaurant on one side and a Spanglish restaurant with its own bar on the other end of a long corridor. It's owned by a consortium of Chinese businessmen and seems determined to pick and pinch from every cultural influence it can.

The Spanish side of the space is very separate and feels lighter in style, like eating in the lobby of a Four Seasons hotel rather than chowing down in the nightclub. The international feel carries on, with French and Polish staff treading their way carefully round the menu. Our stumped 'sommelier' finally recommended a Rioja as being the most Spanish, desperate as he was to veer towards the upper reaches of the list. Tap water wasn't offered.

The menu has a Spanish twist, but in the loosest sense of the phrase. We tried to do tapas, but you'll fare just as well going for starters, main course and desserts. The plate of Iberico ham was thickly and badly carved, chewier than it should be against the grain, and a stretch at £18 for around 125 grams of the rich, gamey meat - even in Borough Market you'd be pushing it to pay more than a fiver for that quantity. Other starters of octopus, sliced sausages and croquettes were acceptable, but not exactly memorable, though they did have a grassy and tart extra virgin olive oil I could have almost drunk neat.

The mains followed a similar vein. Monkfish 'adobo' was a pleasant piece of fish, but bore no trace of the titular marinade, a spicy Latin American base of peppers, oregano and cumin. Of the other mains, a beef tenderloin was a well cooked yet dainty slab, served simply with pimentos de padron, a simple if incongruous side to the dish. The boiled 'confit' tomatoes were left untouched. We'd attempted to order the peppers as a tapas plate and had initially been told that they weren't in season. To be fair to the restaurant, when we pointed out that they were the side of one of the main dishes, they did offer to cook an extra portion as a side, though charged us prettily for the pleasure of the simple salted peppers.

For a Wednesday night in November, pre party season and a year after opening, both sides of the restaurant and the two large bars were buzzy and busy. It's an impressive state of affairs considering the punchy prices and determinedly inauthentic concepts. But this place doesn't appeal to or aim at the determined foodie. If you want to eat authentic Japanese and / or Spanish, there are a dozen better within walking distance. But if you're entertaining clients, models or proving to friends that you are in the know prior to a night jousting with AMEX Black cards in nearby Movida, then you may just have found your new go to destination of choice.

Saturday, November 20, 2010
Overall rating
Food 7 | Service 5 | Atmosphere 7 | Value for money 4

Zucca

Zucca opened earlier in the year to rave reviews from bloggers and critics alike. Many had no idea how they could create their homely yet modern Italian cuisine at the prices they were charging, many of the same people also raved about the quality of the simple ingredients and this man, reading the bundles of food porn produced, licked his lips and vowed to get there, and soon. Well time moved on, and other places opened, and this man didn't get down there (though close) so it was with pleasure while sculling round for somewhere to go last week that this man was reminded of the little (still fairly new) cozy, modern and cheap Italian on Bermondsey Street.

Slightly uncomfortable sub-Habitat chairs aside, the space is a welcoming one. Light walls and exposed brick link the floor to ceiling windows that mirror the open kitchen across the rear. The tables are small and close together, but the high ceilings don't allow the volume to get too loud or your neighbours conversations too intrusive.

And the food? Well I've already booked my return. It's a rare place that makes you feel like that, but Zucca is the restaurant equivalent of a huge hug from an old family friend. And I want another hug. We started, encouraged by the friendly, observant and on the ball waitress, to go for a selection of shared starters. Prosciutto di Parma with a perfectly ripe fig was good, two excellent ingredients in harmonious marriage. Cardoons, celery like sticks of artichoke thistle a rare sight on a menu, came slathered in a thick and slightly boozy fondue cheese which proved perfect for being mopped up by the real star of the starters, the Zucca Fritti. Sticks of pumpkin, squash and carrot with the odd leaf of zingy basil came cooked in a tempura light batter and piled high. The healthiest fried food I've ever had and for a jaw dropping £3 a plate. This would be my lunch, daily, if I lived in the neighbourhood.

You have the option of a pasta course, either before or instead of the main, a bold and light chicory, lemon and gorgonzola taglierini that both companions opted for, and an intriguing bucatini, a spaghetti-like shape with a hollow centre, served with a seasonal pheasant sauce. The gamey notes continued into the carne, where I went for a whole partridge, served with slightly pointless and bland potatoes (the nearest to a duff note I had). Tender as I've had, with a rich stickiness on the breast and a salty umami-filled gravy made from the juices. We shared a homemade tiramisu, rich and creamy, and a panna cotta with poached pear, illiteratively pleasing but as a dessert just too bland for my palate. For £25 a head, it felt like we were committing theft.

Sunday, November 14, 2010
Overall rating
Food 9 | Service 8 | Atmosphere 9 | Value for money 10

Busaba Eathai (Store St)

How much: Three main courses and a side to share came to £44. Most mains hover around the £10 mark.

I've always been a little amazed by Busaba Eathai. Ten years after do no wrong restaurateur Alan Yau first opened the first branch on Soho's Wardour Street, the crowds still line up outside the reservation free communal tabled Thai eateries. We arrived at 7pm on a Friday night and waited 20 minutes outside before being given a menu. There were a few people who had sorted the system and nipped in to 'meet friends', there were also a couple who seemed to be treated as VIPs and managed to queue jump somehow. It's not a system I'm a big fan of personally, though the fact there was a queue throughout means that it must work for some people. We ordered finally 45 minutes after arriving. It would normally have been way too long for me to wait.

We went for three mains and a side to share. The Green Curry beef was ok but the large amounts of a vaguely tasteless vegetable along with the beef felt more like filler than anything else. A grilled ribeye was thin, though well cooked and tender, and went well with the sour tamarind sauce it was served with. We both felt let down by the alleged 'crabmeat' rice, which other than a couple of rather incongruous mushy tomatoes and a lonely looking spring onion was nothing more than a bowl of plain rice. I'd have been badly let down if I'd ordered that as a main course on its own. The Thai calamari was excellent however. Perfectly cooked and seasoned.

Despite the shared tables it didn't feel too intrusive or loud. That being said, we were on a table with a large group and did feel like we were intruding on their party. Other comment would be that on the large communal tables the central sauces felt far too far away so that you were intrusively leaning over people to get to them.

The menu seemed a little smaller than I remember. There didn't seem to be much by the way of starters, though I get that they may not be culturally appropriate. Having checked with their website I see that there aren't any desserts and while fresh fruit couldn't appropriately be served year round, there are a number of Thai desserts that would have rounded it off nicely. It was a good meal, but not worth the 45 minute wait.

Sunday, November 14, 2010
Overall rating
Food 6 | Service 6 | Atmosphere 7 | Value for money 8

Les Deux Salons

The third in the family from Anthony Demetre, the chef behind low key Michelin starred joints Wild Honey and Arbutus, was always going to get my interest. I've had some great meals at the other two and was excited to hear about the plans for a larger, more classically French bistro just off St Martin's Lane. Like one of my other big current favourites, the Dean Street Townhouse, Les Deux Salons is housed in a former Pitcher and Piano and my god, is it an improvement. While they may not have the deep pockets of Caprice Holdings, the team behind Les Deux Salons have done a great job turning the large, cavernous space into an elegant French bistro. Deep red banquettes, blacks and whites and elegant brasses go with the formality of the linen table cloths and the bustling smart floor team. It's a big room, with further covers on the mezzanine level, and they'll have to go some to fill it on every service, but on this showing, I think they're in with a fighting chance, even if the mezzanine level isn't open often.

It's a classic bistro menu, with a large nod to their Josper Grill (an ultra hot Spanish machine drooled over by chefs nationwide) and a Gallic sneer towards the vegetarians - a couple of salads and a solitary (though very fine) pasta dish complete the meat free line up. A particularly fine looking bavette (or flank steak) arrives on the next table, joining a Scottish beefburger that comes in at £12 and pretty much guarantees my return visit. We go for the set menu and slip in the orecchiette pasta as a shared course after the starter. It's almost a step too far.

The white bean and smoked duck soup I start with is OK, but to be honest, it's nothing special. I can't taste the duck at all and the bean is a little chalky. The Vole's chunky country terrine is a much better option, full of flavoursome nuggets of melting fat. Fresh orecchiette pasta comes in a creamy sauce with artichokes, pecorino, kale and pine nuts and is exceptional. Well cooked, well seasoned and with individual flavours that really shine through. Simple but very well thought through. Even more simpler is the braised shoulder of venison served with a parsnip puree that follows as my main. It's a big portion of gamey melting meat served with a smooth puree and a rich jus. The meat was obviously on the go before I was this morning, and has been caramelised around the edges with the Josper. It's sweet and meltingly tender. I feel thoroughly sated.

The chocolate fondant was acceptable, good even, but almost too much after the previous courses. It wasn't too memorable, but I did spy a Rhum Baba on an adjacent table with my name on it for next time.

Sunday, October 31, 2010
Overall rating
Food 8 | Service 8 | Atmosphere 8 | Value for money 9

Anchor & Hope

t's a pleasingly comfortable deep red space, built out of the base of a horrific 60's block on The Cut, just down from the Old Vic and virtually next door to the Young Vic. Despite the restaurants (it's also home to Meson Don Philipe, Livebait, Baltic, at least 2 species of Tas and many others) and theatres, it is still a residential area, attested to by the loud children playing knock-door-run (or some felonious version thereof) with the local shopkeep.

The local crowd, large even on an early lunchtime, look like they've just come from a performance at the slightly arthousey Young Vic next door. They know it's important to get in early as they don't take bookings. By 12.30 you can see why. It's absolutely rammed, all rickety rough sanded tables in the snug dining room taken, many other wanna-eats crowding the similar sized bar on the other side, chugging back early pints of Youngs Broadside while they wait for a table. We popped in on the off-chance having met here for a beer, were tempted to stay, and helped out by the friendly staff who found a table within minutes.

You can see the influences and shared heritage from places like St John. From the casual tumblers of tap water (brought unrequested with no bottled water upsell) and wine to the portions of beautifully soft, chewy sourdough that whet our appetites, it's unfussy, uncomplicated, casual dining. The menu is focussed around game and offal, with a few fish dishes (though not much for vegetarians) and I've got to say that I hadn't been looking forward to a main course as much as this for some time.

With so many things on the seasonal menu I knew whatever I went for I'd be envious of the rest. The hare ragout with semolina gnocchi sang to me from the list, but was rather disappointing in delivery. The ragout was packed full of flavour, the hare slow braised to tender gamey perfection, but the sauce was a little too stew-like for me, the juice a little too light, and the semolina 'gnocchi' a slightly tasteless slab that didn't soak up enough of the juice. Two of the others had the confit of duck, dark soft flesh flaking off the bone, skin salty and crisp. We shared a generous portion of buttery greens, unnecessary due to the large portions but eaten swiftly. The puddings were excellent. A tart and sticky damson bakewell tart came hot from the oven and lasted seconds. Nico Polo's pistachio cake was pronounced similarly excellent.

Don't be put off by the potential for a wait if you don't live locally. It's a laidback place worth travelling for, so turn up, relax at the bar and put your name down. Surely you're with someone you can have a couple of relaxed drinks with? And besides, the best things come to those who wait.

Sunday, October 31, 2010
Overall rating
Food 8 | Service 8 | Atmosphere 9 | Value for money 7

Terroirs

They really espouse the slow food ethos in the kitchen and cellar of this centrally located gem. Well worth tracking down as it's a great place to enjoy a glass of wine and a couple of light plates after work.

Saturday, April 24, 2010
Overall rating
Food 8 | Service 8 | Atmosphere 8 | Value for money 8

Mildred's

Enough to turn you...

As a committed carnivore for many years, Mildred's is my guilty secret.. Their mushroom pie is meaty enough for anyone and I defy you to get through the burrito and have room for anything else. They don't apologise for the lack of meat, and don't try and foist a healthy eating agenda.

All in, it's a casual (no bookings, leave your name at the bar and pop next door to the John Snow for a quick beer), convivial place to go with friends for a great meal (oh and it's a vegetarian restaurant) - accept it, when the food is this good, it doesn't matter...

Saturday, April 24, 2010
Overall rating
Food 8 | Service 7 | Atmosphere 8 | Value for money 8

Dim T (Charlotte St)

Not a bad choice for a chain... virtually indistinguishable from the slightly more common Ping Pong.

Saturday, April 24, 2010
Overall rating
Food 6 | Service 5 | Atmosphere 5 | Value for money 8

The Wolseley

With mother for a birthday treat. All fancy, up town for once and knew that this was the only place I could take her.

The staff are always wonderfully friendly and attentive (definitely one of the marks of the management) and the afternoon tea was reasonably priced and spot on. Sandwiches prepared with military precision, light and crisp scones and a lovely selection of cakes and petit fours.

No issues at all, we walked out with a goodie box and a big smile. At over £30 each it's not the cheapest in town but it's definitely worth it.

Saturday, April 24, 2010
Overall rating
Food 8 | Service 10 | Atmosphere 9 | Value for money 7

Arbutus

Great, great Michelin starred restaurant. Go for the squid burger (seriously) and enjoy some well priced and selected wines by the carafe. Their lunch / pre theatre menu is a steal

Sunday, April 04, 2010
Overall rating
Food 9 | Service 8 | Atmosphere 9 | Value for money 10