“There have been several Russian restaurants opening in the capital over the past few years, the latest and most elaborate of which is Mari Vanna, named after a legendary wise woman…” Larman, Larry and Jonesy seek wisdom from a corner of Mother Russia now residing in Knightsbridge…
It could be considered discourteous of a lady to turn down an invitation for afternoon tea. Especially on a Sunday. A day on which indulgence is overlooked and all is forgiven until 9am the following Monday morning…
I’ve eaten a piece of peach, wearing a blindfold, while a jazz band jammed in…
“It’s when I’m sat at the top of Carn Daimh, looking out onto the sweeping green, amber and bronze hills with a glass of Glenlivet in my hand, that I realise how much I love both Scotland and whisky.”
Hundreds of alien-like crustaceans were crawling around in the trays in front of me, pincers waving in the air, tiny legs clicking all over each other’s backs and bodies…
“The Hill Bar & Brasserie has the unfortunate status of being on the busy path one likely travels down to get to somewhere else…” So what made Gabrielle call in? Lucky for us she did, though…
Afternoon tea in hotels conjures up images of floral china cups, delicate cake stands and doilies. Well, not any more. The cake is about to meet the catwalk. One could call it a cakewalk…
“Ah, the 1970s. When an avocado pear was the height of exoticism, when cheese was meant to be cubed, pronged on a cocktail stick and paired with a chunk of tinned pineapple.”
As I hover outside 66 Portland Place, the home of the Royal Institute of British…
“It’s your birthday?” Pachry decried. “Then we shall go to Twickenham!” I was touched by his thoughtfulness, our erstwhile Sanskrit scribe was not known for his sentimentality…
“The first round of amuse bouche were effortlessly placed before us by the smiling and tactful waiting staff, gliding gracefully around the dining room like ballerinas on a merry-go-round.”
You can say one thing for the Bordelais, with centuries of practice, they know how…