“I am your Father (Cafe) Luc.”

STEAK! STEAK! STEAK! A. is finally revealed...

The decision to eat at Café Luc was the result of a Twitter question on “where to go for a dinner à deux?”. Having been regailed endlessly in 140 characters about the joys of their Steak Tartare (possibly my favourite French dish) I felt an insurpassable urge to try it out. Well, despite the rave reviews – which I admit came largely from their PR Agency (hey, it’s what we do!), I came away a tad disappointed.  Suffice to say, the steak tartare was good. That’s it. OK, nice looking, tasty enough, but unmoving in any way. And lacking slightly in seasoning.

Domaine les Aphillanthes at La Trouvaille, Soho

I took a few folk from the Rendez-Vous Francais de Londres to a wine-tasting at my favourite Frenchy hangout in central London, La Trouvaille… This particular wine-club evening was themed on biodynamic wines from the Côtes du Rhône, showcasing specifically a selection from a small domaine by the name of Les Aphillanthes, run by husband and wife duo Daniel and Helène Boulle who got into biodynamic viticulture after discovering that their son suffered strong allergies which this kind of vine growing could prevent.

Poodles and Pudding at Café du Marché

Back from a brief jaunt in Paris, A. – E’s partner in dining crime – was feeling a definite nostalgie for the beloved cuisine of his motherland, and E is never one to turn down French food so a booking was promptly made for Café du Marché in Farringdon where a good friend works as a chef and which has been recommded to me on several occasions. We took our place at an uber romantic table, with a piano pleasantly plinkyplonking in the background and a lady with a “Dallas”-style coiffe to my left who took home half her dinner for her poodle.

Everyday is Noël at L’Atelier de Joël (Robuchon)

Entering L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon is like stepping into a kind of deliciously sexy combination of Japanese geisha ryokan, Manhattan boutique hotel bar and upmarket Greek island disco lounge. The décor of dark woods, deep red, soft lighting and the living wall of climbing plants are as soothing as the staff who might as well stroll around offering hot facial towels and sponge slippers or the odd shiatsu shoulder massage such is the attention and gentle lulling towards the eating experience.

Rather Fondue of Walluc Bistro

Walluc Bistro is an unassuming little place sitting on a not so attractive corner off of Shoreditch High Street with a front room barely big enough to accomodate its central rustic wooden dining table. A kitsch mix of alpine ski memorabilia, boxing gloves, random french vintage posters and mismatched furniture seemingly haemmorraged from a Tyrolean car boot sale make this one of the more random fondue places I’ve been to, but perhaps the most charming.

Cracking Good time at Prix Fixe Brasserie

Meandering through the wierd and not so wonderful world of the post-break up, heart still a touch battered and appetite on a whirlwind of ups and downs, I decided to amuse myself by exploring a little light-hearted internet dating.

Call it part social experiment, part desperate attempt to move on, part insanity.

La P’tite Folie – Edinburgh à la française

I may be a distant descendant of the Pictish warriors that made up Clan Gunn, and my mother might hail from the more insalubrious districts of Glasgow, but this couldn’t stop the Jamieson family venturing as far as Scotland’s capital only to wind up lunching in a Breton restaurant, La P’tite Folie. There we were, falling over ourselves to impress the waiter with our gutteral “r” rolling, making those knowledgable grunts of satisfaction only fine connoisseurs can muster as we perused the wine list and freezing our backsides off as we’d been placed by the front door.

La Trouvaille – A real find in Soho

A friend of mine introduced me to La Trouvaille in trendy Newburgh Quarter a few months ago and since then, I seem to have wound up here once every two weekends, as if a large magnet lay at the heart of Carnaby Street and I was dressed in metal.

A slice of France in the heart of London there is nothing phoney or twee about this cosy retreat. The staff are all French, the wine list is serious, the food is simple and good with proper French dishes and they do a lot to promote organic wines from the South West regions of France through organised wine tasting evenings which are always very well attended.

Chais Nous – Le Blinding Bifstek

If you’re looking for crisp white tablecloths, stalker-like service and Chateau Lafite, look away now, book a cab to Pètrus and be prepared for an evening of smears, reductions and waiters who appear to have rods up their arses. If, however, you are looking for a melt-in-the-mouth, buttery, juicy, dribble-down-your-chin, fat Angus bavette, cooked to bloody perfection at a non-heart-attack inducing price, let Jérôme, the suitably unimpressed patron of Chais Nous, usher you in to his wee French haven tout-de-suite.

Le Bouchon Bordelais – Un Vrai Bordel

Le Bouchon Bordelais in Clapham boasts a great location, comes equipped with young, athletic, tanned, study-abroad-type waiters in crisp aprons, the requisit 10 irritating Parisians sat at the table at the back and the most ridiculously over-priced bar-snack menu this side of the Thames.

Yes, they show all the rugby you could possibly hope for. Yes, Ricard afficionados and expat Frenchies will lap it up and yes, it’s probably the highest concentration of good-looking people you can get in Clapham, but this does not justify £9.50 for a plate of cheese consisting effectively of 5 shavings the size of a 1/4 Babybel and a single fig, quartered to give the illusion of abundance.