Tom’s (or ‘Tom’s Smashed Burgers and Dirty Fries’) is a fascinating proposition. They say it’s a sign of ageing when policemen seem too young. Brace yourselves for a sense of imminent decrepitude, then, because the eponymous Tomos is 18. And while you’re wondering whether you could rattle off that phrase after your third Negroni, it Read More
Not long ago, I mentioned on Twitter that I was going to break with tradition: that I was, untypically, thinking of sharpening my knife for a deliberately harsh critique of a truly abysmal meal at a Cardiff bar. It was so utterly wretched, so lacking in any redeeming features, so cackhanded, that- for the first time- 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.