Some things swell in the memory, fed by imagination or by sheer force of will. In 1543 (no, really, stay with me on this) Protestant theologian John Calvin remarked- in a snide dig at the credulity of his Roman Catholic counterparts- that there were so many pieces of wood scattered throughout Europe which purported to Read More
It would be easy, I suppose, to mistake Brixton Market’s Tiger and Pig with another outpost of the higher-profile Bao group. It’s a huge success story, from streetfood stall to prestigious real estate. I first came across them at KERB South bank in 2014, moving them up The List after hearing from friends just how Read More
There’s something for everyone in the arcades of Brixton Village Market and Market Row. You might be checking out The Wig Bazaar (I’m not judging) while stocking up on vegan beers; you might be stocking up on sausage from the Columbian carniceria, or shopping for ingredients in the Eritrean grocer. You’re not going to go Read More
Anyone who is tired of kebabs, is tired of life, as Samuel Johnson (probably) said. Who doesn’t love a good kebab? It’s one of those imports which has become absorbed in classically UK style, an end of night staple from Turkey via Germany which always seems likea grand idea at 2.15 am. It’s as British as cricket, drizzle and Read More
I do so love the word smashed’. It’s everywhere, from the roll-my-eyes-whenever-I-hear-it-near ‘avocado’ (is there some edict preventing it being crushed or mashed or bashed or pulverised just the once?) to the sub-moronic ‘bantz’ of hairy-handed dinosaurs and braying City boys. It’s enough to have your eyes rolling so hard you risk the structural integrity of your bony orbits. But it really is the word Read More
It’s easy to fall in love with Anglo. It’s not the palpable enthusiasm of the kitchen team, or the warmth of the welcome and genuine interest in what you think of each course: it’s a heady mix of all three. Mark Jarvis and Jack Cashmore have an impressive track record of experience in fine dining, 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.