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.

From Anjou to Alsace… Sunday Dinner!

£7 worth of food porn!

As a pre-Halloween treat, I went for lunch with A. at South Bank. Naturally, as I do every time I tootle down to the NFT, I end up poking my nose into the second-hand book market and spend ridiculous amounts of money on something I shouldn’t. Which is how I wound up meeting A. carrying a 5-kilo giant edition of the well-known “A Taste of France” by Robert Freson, which I admit I bought entirely on the strength of a double-page spread image of Alsatian choucroute royale. Food porn indeed.

Bottoms Up: Where is the Itinerant Epicure?

This month I can mostly be spotted at the following wine events…

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.

Jean Christophe Novelli meets The Itinerant Epicure

Yours truly chilling with “J.C”

Oui my little croissants, yesterday was spent in a glorious flurry of champagne-quaffing and celebrity chef hob-nobbing, whipping up a meat storm with cookery TV’s Mr. Handsome: Jean Christophe Novelli.

J.C, as we call him, (“we” being the 20-odd starry-eyed journalists swooning over cheddar cheese cubes) was at L’Atelier des Chefs being “the face” of a new campaign by Flora to promote healthy heart awareness in Britain.

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.

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.