A delightful lunch at Bread Street Kitchen, St. Paul’s.
“Doesn’t taste like Newark”.
The gastronomic eqivalent of ‘perfect pitch’.
There’s more to The Ledbury than four courses of dessert, but it’s a good place to start.
A title sadly not to be taken literally.
Excessively enjoying a conveyor belt of cheese and charcuterie at Pick & Cheese at Seven Dials Market.
The European stopped at a charity shop and got beaten to a Chinese tea set by the fastest old Chinese lady in the world. What a hipstery afternoon it was.
Because I would prefer to line HMRC’s pockets buying Italian food rather than American candy and Froot Loops.
“I’m not going to Five Guys again you fat unimaginative bastard. Take me to Eataly”
A restaurant where the lines of the uniform flow as graciously as the sequence of service.