Yes, I know, I am a hundred years late on this one! However… Over winter I will be trial running a series of dinners in the hope of setting up a monthly supperclub. If you’d like more info, DM me on Twitter. Here’s the menu for the first one – will be posting images after the fact!
Posted in Recipes, Supper Club
Tagged Autumn Dishes, Itinerant Epicure, Supper Clubs in London
A view from above...
A sea view does so much to lift the spirits. Crashing waves or serene waters, blue skies arching over deep green water or storm-battered spray, either way I find the ocean is the most soothing and intoxicating balm. Both depressed by London, M. & I head out to Cornwall for a very short, but much needed escape overnight at Bedruthan Steps hotel. 4 1/2 hours on the very comfy seats of a First Great Western train and bingo, we were greeted with the cool drizzle and vast swathe of pancake-flat sand of Mawgan Porth’s beach, overlooked by a higgledy-piggledy mass of cottages, a pasty shop, surf shack and obligatory old man pub, and the square 50′s architectural oddity that is Bedruthan Steps hotel. Continue reading
Let's Dance!
In this grey and wistful time of year, with England enjoying the average annual rainfall of a small tropical country on a daily basis, what we need is a bit of brightness, sunshine and good living. What better then than an evening in the company of the delightful Shanti Maurice team, their colourful dancing girls, exquisite Mauritian cuisine, rhum-laced cocktails and pampering? The invitation was like a breath of fresh air in an otherwise gloomy month and we huddled into Moti Mahal, one of my favourite Indian restaurants in London, to enjoy a night hosted by Shanti – a boutique lifestyle resort in the virtually untouched “Soma” South of Mauritius. Continue reading
Fish tank
Battersea by night is an odd little place. The dark, industrial riverside, winding silently through the backyards of garden centers; badly lit wastelands flanked by lego estates, then suddenly, at the end of a fuzzy golden-flickering road, a towering skyscraper and the low-drone of a heliport. Yes, a heliport. Apparently, this is where Al-Fayed and Abramovitch park their little zippers when in town. Perhaps they even stay at the ultra-random, sausage finger-shaped HeliHotel in front of it too, then zipline across the dank Thames, Bond-style, to Harrods for a spot of shopping. Either way, tonight I am in this bizarre back-of-beyond to sample the delights of The Fish Place, a relatively new joint specializing in super-fresh British fish, in season, and a break-the-rules wine policy. Continue reading
Foxy architecture
Last time I had dinner in Smithfield I ended up playing a Ukelele in the backing band of 1920s cabaret diva Tricity Vogue at the Smithfiled Tavern. Today I am two doors down, on a slightly more quiet Tuesday evening, in the company of old blog-dinner companion A. to sample the “Gastro-pub” delights of The Fox and Anchor. Unlike many pubs of its ilk, which have undergone the transition to proper dining establishments, this one remains firmly a pub, thank god, and hasn’t gutted its interiors to make way for exposed floorboards, trendy “greige”-washed, faux-french rustic tables and daunting emptiness. Continue reading
Having kicked Blue-Tomato editor Ben Norum out of my flat at midnight the night before for the crimes and misdemeanours of knife-wielding and rotten banana-eating, I found myself 8 hours later, back in his company, hangover included, to put our skillz to the test for NOMNOMNOM 2011 - a bloggers cooking challenge in aid of Action Against Hunger.
With our usual last-minute, slapdash style, we had planned precisely nothing save for a bizarre menu concocted from randomness and haggis scrawled on the back of a napkin. Continue reading
Posted in Events, Markets, Recipes
Tagged bloggers cooking, Blue Tomato, Cookery School, cooking event, London Food Bloggers, nomnomnom 2011, Rosalind's Kitchen
Natty patty.
I was a Bistro du Vin/Hotel du Vin novice until a week ago, however I knew my Wednesday night could only be looking up if I was to be rolling into a temple devoted to wine, Anglo-Gallic grub and oodles of cheese. I am a simple girl, the words “bistro”, “vin” and a temperature-controlled larder humming with the faint feety odour of a smorgasbord of French fromages is enough to get my pulse racing and my tastebuds breakdancing. Continue reading
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