Many Americans in London are carnivores. And many of them have been missing the institution that is the American steakhouse.
A fool's mind is in the gutter. We're talking sausage and mash here.
My friend and I decided to meet for dinner at the somewhat-new Botanist in Sloane Square, where she had eaten (happily) before. But we were both shocked at the extent of the scene that spilled onto the pavement. Was it the weather? Or was it just the new place to be?
Ms R can just remember when Hoxton was a place so feral you wouldn’t go there without an armed guide. Pop socks anyone? Of course, once the West London media contingent got excited about it - “Darling, I ventured to the other side today” - all that disappeared.
L'Atelier de Joel Rubochon must have taken over an old sushi bar, and that's not where the similarity ends. You can also spend a lot of money in a little time and wonder if it was worth it.
If you still have an expense account and like your fish raw, sliced up in front of your eyes, or even torched, City Miyama is the place to lunch like it's still 2006.
Just as one is forbidden to write London without putting the adjectives 'diverse and vibrant' in front of it, so it seems that British Food must be called 'great'.
While the third wave feminists are trying to work out what it’s all about, Ms R would like to take this opportunity to say that here at R Towers, we enjoy the kitchen as much as the bedroom.
There is quite a lot of Spanish food in London, unfortunately much of it faux-Spanish. You know the sort of thing: little bowls with grilled chorizo or fried potatoes, blanketed with a tasteless tomato sauce. A preview of El Faro’s menu promised something altogether more authentic.
“I want to live like common people said the Shamed Obsolete Banker (SOB).” “Excellent," I said. "As it happens I have a review coming up in Kentish Town.”
Nachos are one of the titans of trash food. But do you serve them with chilli or pulled pork? Drown them in cheese sauce? Or grilled Monterey Jack? And can you share your nachos or is that a surefire recipe for divorce?
Every Sunday night, I make a quantity of salad dressing in an red-and-white-topped Bonne Maman jar, and lovingly place it in the fridge.
I’m a bit of a cook and a bit of a baker, but I never considered myself a bit of a candy-maker.