You’ll find Manteca off Poland St, your doorway to Soho and a welcome break from the manic throngs of Oxford St. It calls itself ‘nose to tail’ British-Italian but that’s as far as the buzzwords go. Fans of 84-page restaurant mission statements will find meagre pickings here: Manteca is less interested in parading fashionable credentials Read More
Fat little cockles and nuggets of bacon are tumbled on to toast, itself generously slathered with laverbread and sodden with those salty, silky juices. It feels like a peculiarly Welsh pleasure, a bracing walk on a Pembrokeshire beach: ozone in the air, but without that annoying family with their litter and their screeching at each Read More
This Canton branch of Smokin’ Griddle follows Swansea to become their second on Wales. Originating in Romford in 2012, you may already know them from their brief stint at Sticky Fingers . You could be forgiven for being reminded of US imports like 5 Guys, whether it’s the huge serving of fries or the brown Read More
What comes to mind when you think of Polish food? Dumplings and breaded things, ham hocks and sauerkraut, perhaps: plates groaning with buttery, creamy stuff, good beers and smoked sausages with mustard. A national obsession with pork which chimes hard with my roots. Rich, carby heft to see you through harsh months: heavy fuel, insulation against Read More
Andrew Chongsathien’s Brother Thai has built a reputation rivalled by very few. He is South Wales street food royalty, one of that select few with such a following that we gladly form queues visible from space. So it’s easy to understand the excitement around this, their first permanent home here on Cardiff’s Whitchurch Road. The Read More
If you’re new to Lee Skeet’s Bones Supperclubs, you should probably read my initial love letter to his food, here. Since my first visit- tonight’s was my third, with more to come- I have, in the words of m’colleague Rhydian of Bwyta yn y Briffdinas, ‘banged on about him’. Mea culpa. It worked, I suppose: Read More
This blog is a very simple thing.
I won’t try to sell you any hand lotion, exercise programmes, coffee syrups or Patagonian nose flutes. You won’t find tips on dating, ‘wellness’ or yoga mats.
I write because I love it (and food, as indicated by my increasing girth). Greed happens to be my Deadly Sin of choice, but at least it is never shy of providing me with subject matter.
A simple thing, then: all you get is me wittering on semi-coherently about places I’ve eaten at; hence a ‘restaurant blog’ rather than a ‘food blog’, although there are a few recipes scattered throughout.
From mezze to Michelin ‘fine dining’ and all points in between.