When Heston Blumenthal bought his second pub in Bray, a few disgruntled locals of the gastro-hamlet expressed their irritation. There were puffed out cheeks and the waving of fists. Understandably, the inhabitants wished to hold onto their local ale house. How has The Crown fared?
As a resident of the trendy plains of Shoreditch, I tend not to venture further…
A group of adventurers, drinkers and bon viveurs gathered for the trip down to Lyme Regis for a foraging expedition with chef extraordinaire Mark Hix and a whisky dinner hosted by Talisker…
As I approach the Hendrick’s Gin 13th Day of Christmas window at Jeroboams in Belgravia,…
Surry Hills is probably the beating heart of Sydney’s culinary body. On this jaunt home to my motherland I was pleased to find one of the finest additions to the district is smack in the centre of it all.
The number 36, in association with the ‘Solar Square’ of ancient Western tradition, stands for ‘sun’ and ‘warmth’. As of September, it’s also the name of Nigel Mendham’s new restaurant at Dukes Hotel.
Vivid photographs of spices, stained glass and wooden lanterns, emerald green, red and sand cushions, double-handled wok bathroom sinks. If there was a ‘best decorated Indian restaurant’ accolade, Potli would surely scoop it.
Kings and Queens. Ships, Sails and Dinghies. Red Lions, Foxes, Goblins and Griffins. A pub name should not follow trend. We need more character taverns, muses David, on his way to visit The Gaggle of Geese in Dorset.
With mounting glee, I made my way to Powder Keg Diplomacy, a name just pretentious enough to pique the interest of city workers with an inexorable need to throw their ill-gotten gains on quality dining not involving burgers.
Everybody from Frank Sinatra to Jay-Z has extolled the virtues and bemoaned the vices of New York City. This being my first trip to NYC, I decided to spend a day traipsing across town eating everything in sight.
Lunch was booked for one o’clock at Combal.Zero in Rivoli, which had only re-opened two days previously after the summer sojourn, and perhaps word hadn’t yet caught on, as I was the only diner, at least for the first hour…
When Jonesy drops one an email, one tends to sit up and take notice. More often than not, they offer tidings of comfort and joy. However, this one was laconic: “Larman, old chap. Cookery class at Le Pont de la Tour.”