Moustache-less at The Botanist

The Botanist - Sitting proudly on Sloane Square

In case you’ve been on planet zog for the last month, you’ll know that this is “Movember” – up and down the country, teenagers with smelly socks disguised with Lynx have been trying desperately to grow a bit of chin fluff for charity, and older generations have relished the thought of finally finding out exactly how they’d look with a Hercule Poirot ‘tache. Everyone, that is, except Neil of superb whisky blog CaskStrength who in a defiant mood shaved OFF his legendary groomed moustachio and faced this chilly month with nary a protective bristle for his upper lip.

Which is how we met him at The Botanist – under the thin pretense of a press lunch, I was here to sample to goods and see if it lived up to the hype I had created for myself.

A Lady at Automat American Brasserie

Bruce Willis ate here, innit.

One of the perks of my job is being able to take journalists and writers for lunch or breakfast at some of London’s loveliest eating spots, thus satisfying both my curiousity for new noshing places AND making great contacts at the same time. There’s no better way to kill two birds with one stone than over a giant plate of steaming, fluffy pancakes dripping with syrup at Dover Street’s trendy Automat.

St. Martini at Dishoom – Zoom Zoom…

Get on your Bombay bicycle and head over now!

Dishoom is tapas Bombay style, or something along those lines. Wee plates of spicy goodness which my Indian co-diner insisted were highly authentic. So far so good then. And that’s before I discovered the chilli-infused heaven that is a St. Martini.

Dishoom, a stone’s throw from Seven Dials and next door to Jamie’s Italian, is a bright and breezy large bar, kitchen and dining room festooned in kitsch Bollywood memorabilia and 50s diner aesthetics. The open plan kitchen is fun to watch without invading the room, with the most entertaining chef (the one who whirls the Roti about above his head) is rightfully given the most prominence.

Petits Pâtés Epatants… From Brittany with Love

 

Voulez vous pâté avec moi?

There’s nothing like arriving at work on a Monday morning in freezing London rain with no coat (lost), no phone (stolen), 3 hours sleep, a face like the end of the world and clutching two cans of pâté.