Lilibet’s Restaurant Review

Opulent and impressive, with a side order of slightly camp, this restaurant celebrates the past and feels guaranteed to have a glorious future

An IKEA TV campaign, not so long ago, urged everyone to ‘chuck out their chintz’. It seems that much of it ended up in Lilibet’s. I’ve not seen so much of the stuff since my maiden aunt died at 97, the same day as Elizabeth II, and her house hadn’t changed since the 1940s.

This new restaurant is on the site of the building where Elizabeth (Lillibet) II began her life, although the actual house was demolished years ago.


Internally Russell Sage Studios have created what can be either called a loving homage of interior design trends back then, or an affectionate parody of the same. There are handwoven Gainsborough silks on the walls, and even the sort of fake fireplace once found in stately council homes. Usually accompanied by a car up on bricks outside.

I like it, everything about the place has a wry smile on its face and it’s extremely welcoming, comfortable and, yes, it is actually elegant. There’s nothing else like it in an area that has become very blingy, majorly catering to Russian and Middle Eastern tastes.

It’s not perhaps what you’d expect from Ross Shonhan, once Executive chef at Zuma London, and who created the iconic Bone Daddies ramen bars that for years were the talk of blogland, with people scrambling to get as much oily broth inside themselves as possible..

Here it’s fish, fish  and more fish across a very large space divided into zones. A bar, a marble topped seafood bar, (oysters and caviar feature, of course) a fish grill, and traditional seating to eat whatever you want. These seats are extra plush, and whilst the tables have no tablecloths, they are dark wood and so still feel upper class.

It’s a menu that could have you indecisively flicking back and forth for a month, but we know what we want.


Anchovy éclairs and crab tarts are more nibbles than full on starters, but they are both rather wonderful. I love anchovies, particularly the tinned brown fillets, but they do repel some people. The important thing is to get the best you can find – cheap anchovies don’t have the rich texture and deep umami that’s so present here.

I saw a recipe for these in the The Official Downton Abbey Christmas Cookbook (don’t judge me). So as a savoury they have been around a long time in posh circles. They’re usually made with puff pastry, here though it’s proper choux with the hollow space inside piped with anchovy parfait and on top sharp/sweet sauce. Gone all too quickly, but the memory lingers.

The crab tarts are equally impressive, small works of culinary art, super-fresh sweet crab enlivened by citrus and cosseted in pastry shells that are as delicate as the porcelain  Liz 2 probably had her afternoon tea served in.

Did I mention it’s a big menu? Well we dither over the Ricotta agnolotti,  lobster spaghetti, whole turbot pil pil as choices, but the “fish triptych,” fish served in three different ways – a crudo, a grilled main and a soup  – sounds too unique not to try.


From the fish of the day we have the Sea Bream. This arrives first as crudo – raw – dressed with olive oil, salt, lemon and perhaps vinegar, and liberally scattered with herbs. This really showcases the fish which is firmly ‘cooked’ by the acids to a divine buttery texture. My only caveat being that the fresh chili was rather too fierce at times.

Next from the same fish comes its fillets, cooked in the searing heat of the bespoke wood oven. A perfect piece of fish, the skin crispy and golden, the flesh gorgeously creamy. It is so naturally excellent that the mojo verde sauce is in some ways not needed,  but in other ways I need lots more. And a spoon, too. I could also do with some chips, but then I am common.

Lastly, the remains of the fish are cooked fast in a pressure cooker to create one of the best fish soups either of us have ever tasted, and yes we have been to the South of France.

It’s ladled out tableside, which is posh, and we boat it back with little oohs and aahs. There is some left in the tureen, so rather than summon a footman I top up our bowls myself. Sometimes one simply cannot wait to be served.


I now have to mention the Lobster Mash, after all everybody else has. Firstly it gave me an annoying earworm; I can’t stop hearing ‘Monster Mash’ in my head, and secondly it really is very good. Buttery, creamy, mash anointed with a lobster bisque? How can it fail?

It’s served after the soup, I’d have liked it served with the #2 fish, although that may not have been the best way to showcase either dish. Anyway, it is decadent, depraved and delicious. It’s a must have, a right royal treat.

They do a rather odd dessert here, a Prego sandwich. It’s a garlic steak sandwich, the word ‘prego’ in Portuguese means ‘nail,’ perhaps the nail in your coffin? It is actually a well-loved Portuguese snack that is often eaten after a seafood meal. I don’t really fancy it, but a twist on crepes suzette does sound good.

It arrives rolled up, topped with a sauce of caramelised sugar, orange juice and butter, plus thin candied orange peels, and yes, it is torched (or flambeed as they say in more refined circles) at the table. It’s a blast from the past and a very welcome one.

Lillibet’s really is something special in London; its interiors, its staff, its food all remind me of why I go out to eat in the first place, not to greedily catch a trend but to relax and enjoy time with friends and family in a place that believes in the basics. 

Lillibet’s I am sure will become as much a part of London’s history as Liz 2 was, and hopefully live just as long.

17 Bruton St, London W1J 6QB
lilibetsrestaurant.com

Med Sallah Restaurant Review

In the heart of Kangaroo Valley, this small but perfectly formed Vietnamese restaurant is properly delicious

It’s not really fair to call Earls Court ‘Roo valley anymore, but back in the 60s just about every young Australian lived there. Today its grand old houses are more likely to be hotels than bedsits, but the area still has a certain rundown aura.

Down under one of the big houses, in what would once have been the servant’s domain, there is still a kitchen at 32-36 except now instead of boiling cabbages it’s grilling delicious fish and meats and simmering some wonderful Phos.

Med Sallah is the new restaurant from Med Pang and Koi Lee, the people behind critically acclaimed Malaysian favourite Med Salleh Kopitiam.

Once down the steep little steps you enter a compact place warmly painted and with a market scene across one wall. The chairs look like they’ve been rescued from a 1920’s British open topped car, they’re very covetable and also very comfortable.

Koi’s Vietnamese wife Syphong Lam is in the kitchen and out front is a welcoming and friendly team. Most of the customers also appear to be Vietnamese, which is usually a very good sign.

We sat back and let the team choose for us, after wimpishly specifying ‘no offal’ and we certainly got the works.  Translucent prawn summer rolls with dipping sauce were packed with crispness and great clumps of fresh herbs, the prawns eerily visible through the wrapper skin as if hiding behind a shower curtain.

Rather cleverly the prawns are divided in half lengthways so they appear large but are in fact light and delicate. Veggies can have the version with mushrooms.

Moving on, a mango and prawn salad has the classic Vietnamese interplay of sharp, sour, sweet and hot. Tomatoes, grated carrot and lettuce all up the freshness. Personally I would have upped the fish sauce quotient too, as well as the lime, but I have no doubt this is done correctly for Vietnamese tastes. It was delicious all the same.

Med Sallah focuses on street food and in Vietnam that means things cooked over the simplest grills, literally on the street.

We have three superb lamb chops, crusted in spices, grilled and perfectly pink-ish. Lemongrass and chilli seem solidly represented and they are very gnawable right down to the bone where the best flavour always is.

Also grilled is a squid, the whole tube and at sea-monster size too. It’s not easy to cook squid well, it either needs to be cooked very fast and very hot, or slowly braised. In between it’s rubbery. Here it was spot on, and again generously but not overpoweringly spiced. The waitress cuts it into rings with large scissors, a very useful aid to eating. We have a little tussle over the tentacles, for me the best bit.

Bun Cha is cold vermicelli rice noodles with meat marinated in lots of lemongrass, garlic and fish sauce and soy sauce. You can have it here with grilled chicken, beef, prawn or mushroom. We have excellent beef and chicken, the cold noodles are a bit odd at first but we come to love them. I imagine they are wonderfully refreshing in a hot climate.

And Pho. Created in Nam Định, Pho Phở is of course broth, rice noodles, herbs, and meat. The meat cooks in the hot broth when mixed at the table.  Here we had a version almost certainly not eaten on the average street, unless perhaps it’s Bond Street, which was their Classic Signature Truffle Wagyu Pho.

Well it was superb, the dense flavours of the stock pricked by the truffle and the beef was remarkable. Soft, melting and all too soon gone, but drinking the stock kept the flavours going.

And to end something from the mists of time, a deep fried banana with ice cream. This made me very nostalgic as  I burned my tongue just as I used to do all those years ago. Mind you,this was fresh crisp batter, and back in the day that was unheard of.

You have to like Med Sallah, its cafe style relaxed atmosphere, the great food and the lovely people. Take a first date there and impress them with your knowledge of places not on the radar.

32-36 Hogarth Rd, London SW5 0PU

medsalleh.co.uk/viet-earls-court

Nanyang Blossom Restaurant Review

A bit of everything makes up Nanyang cuisine. Chinese, Malaysian, Burmese, Vietnamese,  Indonesian and even Filipino but that doesn’t mean it isn’t focussed. Flavour comes first.

irst though you have to find the place. It’s in a stumpy little pedestrianised street, barely a hundred metres long, almost opposite Harrods. The street’s main purpose is to cut the corner between Knightsbridge and the Brompton Road. It’s called Knightsbridge Green.

Ah yes, Knightsbridge so, spoiler alert, this is not going to be a cheap restaurant. The question is whether the price is worth it for us mortals watching the pennies. The sound of supercars going down the Brompton Road suggests that the locals at least are not short of disposable income.

Nanyang Blossom is small on the outside, but Tardis-like larger within and set over two floors. It’s opulently furnished with thick fabrics and smart chandeliers and the staff have uniforms and are all swish operators. Chef de Cuisine Daren Liew was once Executive Sous Chef at Hakkasan Group, while General Manager David Chan. David used to run Zen in Hampstead and Phoenix Palace, Marylebone.
It’s busy at lunchtime with many customers of Asian appearance, which is normally a good sign.

The menu is large and, while we wander around it, we eat marinated skinned cherry tomatoes. I pity whoever has that job in the kitchen, still though it’s nice for the customers. These are quite good tomatoes, but as I have an allotment they don’t beat mine fresh off the vine and still warm from the sun.

Choice is hard, it all sounds good, but we stay fairly conventional at first with chicken satay ‘Melaka’ (Malaysia)  skewers. These are clearly thigh meat, which is a good thing, although I do wonder if it is a little bit undercooked. Doused in a sweet and sour sauce it’s enjoyable and there is only a small amount of peanut sauce, which is a bonus as the unusual pineapple and cucumber relish does a far better job of partnering the meat.

Prawn toasts in a standard Chinese restaurant are usually pretty awful. Here though they are very pretty and elevated to fine dining by being fluorescent green ( the colour comes from edamame beans we are told, and not seaweed), and a topping of flaked almonds that makes them resemble Mr Kipling’s finest slices. They are very good indeed, the almonds adding a whole dimension of texture.

Talking of texture, we had squid sambal next which always makes me think of the Chinese restaurant joke that’s no longer acceptable. ‘Waiter, this squid is rubbery!’’ Why thank you very much sir!’

Of course this is not rubbery at all. The sambal is spicy and sweet and it’s all topped with what I think is deep-fried bread. Pomegranate seeds add a sharp note that’s very effective.

We’re not sure about the Knightsbridge Crispy Beef Ribs though as they aren’t crispy at all and are very fatty and sweet with Medjool dates and pineapple. The only dish we’d not order again

However Seafood Nyonya Sambal Fried Rice is gorgeous, in some ways it’s an oriental Paella, as the rice has absorbed all the good flavours as it cooks. Lobster, octopus, and prawns all served in a claypot, we scraped that pot out and then chased the last rice grains with our fingers. Superb.

And finally Lemongrass chicken, something of a staple on my home BBQ. Plenty of char here, and char is where the flavour is. I have never topped mine with tamarind and mango kerisik (kerisik means ‘dry’) as they do here though, but I shall try now. A simple dish but done very well. I have to give a shout out to the baby Pak Choi side dish too, so sweet to look at and wonderfully tender to eat.

Bananas always seem to feature on Chinese restaurant dessert menus, usually over-battered and deep fried. It’s a favourite Southeast Asian snack. Done well it’s crispy and not greasy, which is how it’s served here. For the first time I actually enjoyed this classic.

We downed a bottle of decent Picpoul with the meal, it was crisp and citrusy. It worked well with all the dishes

Verdict? All very good, bar the Beef Ribs, and the space and service are all charming. I could definitely head back for  the Seafood Nyonya Sambal Fried Rice which was outstanding.

Of course the prices are, as I hinted, high. However in this area they are actually average while the food is very above average. So if you have the cash to splash, I’d definitely recommend Nanyang.

12 Knightsbridge Green, SW1 7QL








Miyako Restaurant Review

Sushi, sashimi, teriyak, bento and sake. This little jewel of a restaurant will cheer you up on the greyest day, and do it all day long

There are two ways into Miyako. Enter from the street, turn right at the chef’s station and into the compact dining room. Or come in from its parent luxury hotel, Andaz, it’s just off the reception and feels rather secret as if you’ve just found a hidden room at Hogwarts. One that serves sushi.

Is it a hotel restaurant or a stand-alone then? Does it matter? The offer is fresh food, unpretentiously served and at a not all that bad price. It’s open from lunch until late, so we got there at 2:30. This meant the lunchtime eaters had gone, but people still drifted in and out.

I immediately embarrassed myself by knocking over the soy sauce pot on the table, but the staff dealt with the tsunami with patience and good humour. With this drama over, I could concentrate on my now slightly soy-stained menu.

It has all you’d expect – maki, uramaki, nigiri sushi and sashimi etc and, if you want something hot, bowls of steamy udon, plates of crispy tempura, gyoza and, to me at least, the inexplicably popular katsu curry. It always reminds me of the 1970s, even though I was barely there. There are some teriyaki dishes, too.

Head Chef Kosei Sakamoto was raised in Kyushu in South Japan before moving to Tokyo and to London. Unflappable and focused he sends out the dishes at the right speed.

We had too many dishes to detail, but the tuna tataki stood out immediately, the tuna perfectly seared for the requisite few seconds. A drop of truffle oil elevating the usual citrusy dressing. Slippery fellows to get the chopsticks around, though, I dropped them a lot.

Plates of maki went down very well, some with fish, some with veg, all dipped into my now replenished soy sauce saucer. These much easier to handle with chopsticks, but it is allowed to use your hands.

We had to use our hands on the Uramaki. Here the seaweed is on the inside and the rice on the outside. Many of these were beautiful to look at, but totally impossible to pick up without them falling apart. We simply got messy. There was of course tangles of pickled ginger and blobs of punchy wasabi to add to each mouthful. I love pickled ginger.

There was also lots of sushi, the fish as fresh as could (and needs) to be and tamagoyaki-topped nigiri sush. This rolled and sliced omelette is usually left for last as its slight sweetness makes it almost dessert.


We ate a great deal, we enjoyed all of it. This is the kind of unpretentious, but focussed, small place that makes Japanese dining enjoyable and not daunting.

Be sure to check out their Bento Box deal as well, and their ‘Business Lunch’ fixed price menu served between 3pm – 5.30pm. It looked rather good.

Website

40 Liverpool St, London EC2M 7QN

Opening Hours: Tuesday – Saturday, 12pm – 10pm.

The Art of Afternoon Tea

A beautiful room and some seriously stunning cakes, this afternoon tea certainly made my day

They say English Afternoon tea originated in the 1840s, a light meal to tide over genteel ladies of quality until dinner at 8pm.

Lunch it seems was not an English thing back then, a posh person had a biggish breakfast and then toughed it out until the evening. No nipping down to the mansion, or the castle kitchen, for a sneaky snack.

So to combat afternoon energy drops, ladies began taking tea and delicate sandwiches at around four o’clock in the afternoon. Soon no society hostess could afford not to invite or be invited to tea, it was ‘the thing’.

Today it’s something many tourists actively seek out, a quintessentially British experience in London’s best hotels. With so many on offer though, many a disgraceful rip off, it pays to be selective.

The Kensington, part of the Doyle Collection,  is one the very best. Just a short walk from South Kensington station and the Natural History Museum, Royal Albert Hall and V&A,  it appears to have been created by joining four elegant 19th Century stucco fronted houses together. Entering through the grand front door, held open by bowler hatted porters, you turn left into a gorgeous double aspect lounge.

On any day it’s a well lit room, warmed by a real fire, but on this sunny early Spring day it shines and dazzles. The furniture is a mix of modern and antique and just what you’d expect to find in the townhouse of a tasteful member of the aristocracy. Understated elegance.

We take a table in one of the bay windows, noting the excellent china cups and saucers as well as the crisply folded napkins. Every detail matters when taking tea.

The menu offers a variety of The Rare Tea Company teas and infusions, from the classic ‘breakfast tea’ to exotic single suppliers. They are all the same price and are served ‘bottomless’, although you’d not utter such a common phrase here. A pre tea glass of champagne is appreciated, if not exactly traditional.

Up to a point the food is classic, which is a good thing. I’ve tried afternoon teas in places where they’ve gone crazy with the sandwiches, creating monsters that can’t be eaten without mess. The whole point of AT sandwiches is that they must be dainty, easy to hold and to nibble at.

Our tea arrives in silver pots too heavy to lift, which is okay as the charming staff are there to pour tea for us. Milk first or last? Last of course, because that way you have a chance to adjust the tea’s strength

I have delicious Rooibos while P has Cloud Tea, a fragrant black tea from the “Abode of Clouds” in the cloudy hills between Assam and Darjeeling. 

From the elegant tiered stand come sandwiches which are pukka and properly finger shaped  – there is St. Ewe Egg with watercress, Chapel & Swan smoked salmon with lemon cream cheese,  Cucumber with mint cream and Pastrami with gherkin and horseradish. All beautifully delicate and the teas make them taste even better.


We have plain and fruit scones, cosily wrapped in a soft napkin. They are still warm. Thick clotted cream and homemade strawberry jam are slathered on.

And now, as we wipe some off that jam off our shirts, we come to the art in the Art of Afternoon Tea.The sweet cakes have been inspired by artists and are quite incredible, so much detailed work has gone into them that it seems a shame to eat them so we look for a while instead.


These are inspired by Jackson Pollock, Yayoi Kusama and Alicja Kwade. The Pollock  uses his ‘drip technique’ for a dark chocolate mousse tart with passion fruit parfait, Japanese artist Kusama’s cake is  polka-dot pumpkin of mango mousse shrouding  coconut yoghurt cream, and visual artist Kwade’s spheres are made from white chocolate vanilla mousse with pineapple compote centre.

Our photos do them some justice, but they are even more remarkable in the sweet, sugary flesh. A bit messy to eat, but I think that’s allowable.

We have our teapots refreshed and sink back into the deep cushions. The ceremony has done its job, we are no longer hungry but also feel that by dinner time we will be ready for more.

Everything done right traditionally and with a modern ‘arty’ twist. This Afternoon Tea is one you will savour.

Prepared and served fresh daily, The Art of Afternoon Tea is available everyday from 12pm-4.30pm for £58 per person or £70 per person including a glass of champagne. 

The Kensington 

109-113 Queen’s Gate

South Kensington, London, SW7 5LP

When is a cow not a cow? When it’s a Txuleton

Before I begin, I assume none of you lovely readers are vegans or vegetarians? If so, you might want to stop reading now.

I myself eat meat, but not a lot. So, when I do eat it, I want something special.

Txuleton is that something special.Txuleton, or rib, steak usually comes from the Rubia Gallega cow.

It’s a cow from North West Spain that can be as old as 18 years before being turned into steaks.In the Basque country old dairy cows are used.

That is pretty old. I mean in the UK beef is usually slaughtered before the cow gets to three years.

Normally dairy cows past their milking prime are disposed of, but in the Basque country they are fattened up for eating.

So why are old cows so good?‘

Well’, says Sagardi Shoreditch’s meat selector Imanol Jaca, ‘it’s because mature muscle and fat tastes better and myoglobin in the muscles means a redder meat’.

Continue reading

Come for the food, stay for the footy

‘Who ate all the pies?’ Actually, it’s more a case of who ate the crab pannacotta and then the sea bass with salsify?  Nick finds his first football match to be a surprisingly tasty experience.

I have a confession to make; although I am an old geezer I have never been to a football match in my life. Until last Saturday.

My father was not remotely interested in football and my school played rugby. Ok, yah?  So, I was never going to be a football fan.

Plus, back in my teenage years, football was at its lowest point; mindless violence, both in and out of the stadiums, standing up in the cold for the whole ninety minutes and food that was barely worthy of the name. It really never appealed to me.

But, Watford FC’s, Hornets Hospitality, has  recently been awarded the highest accolade in Premier League hospitality. Continue reading

Fancy Crab Restaurant Review

92 Wigmore St, London W1U 3RD fancycrab.co.uk

It looks like a Doctor Who style monster in the wild, but once caught and cooked the Red King Crab is one of the finest eating crustaceans there is. Trouble is, it’s not cheap.

Once in Paris I was taken, fatally hungover and feeling like death, to a very expensive and traditional seafood restaurant.

I managed the Lobster Bisque okay, albeit with some heavy pauses, then things took a turn for the worst

The waiters began laying out enough tools around my plate to service a Formula One car, and then came the crab. A whole one, which I was expected to dismantle myself using the tools provided.

Ten seconds after cracking the shell, overcome by nausea I had torn my bib off and was out in the street disgracing myself into a hole dug by the electric company.

The point of this story is to point out, for those people that seem to have been a bit confused, that a King Crab is not the same as a crab and King Crab is the focus of what they serve here.

With a King Crab, you don’t fossick around in the body with surgical tools, carefully avoiding the ‘dead man’s’ fingers, looking for the brown meat. You don’t go near a King Crab’s body at all.

You’re just after the legs, which are enormous, and claws, which aren’t exactly small either. The meat is white and rich and close to lobster in both looks, taste and texture

So, basically don’t expect a Cromer crab shack experience at Fancy Crab, one where you emerge all smelly with crab juice. This is a far more refined experience, as befits the rather opulent and attractive interior.

And it is all about the Red King Crab which comes frozen from the frozen north, but don’t panic. It’s cooked in sea water and then frozen on the boats, so it’s as fresh as can be.

We approached the mains sideways via some shared appetisers. First guacamole served in a large stone mortar with a bowl of tortilla chips and a bottle of Tabasco on the side.

The guaca was made well; a mixture of smooth and chunky just as it should be. It may possibly have been actually made in the mortar, and not with a blender. I do hope so, I’m a romantic.

Popcorn Calamari with homemade tartar sauce had good squid squares, I always find rings a bit naff, as if they had come from a factory, and they are usually rubbery.

These squares were butter soft with a crispy coat, but the tartare sauce was not as gherkiny, capery or indeed as vinegary as it needed to be for contrast and cut through.  Still, not bad by any means.

And so we scuttled onward to mains pausing only to drink very good Broken Dream Stout,  from the Siren Craft Brewery. Absolutely delicious beer and perfect with seafood.

There are various ways to eat Red King Crab here, the purist way is King Crab Legs & Claws on ice or baked over charcoal. It’s priced by weight. It is very expensive.

Millennials though can enjoy king crab in a bun, because they do like things in buns. King Crab Burger made from king crab meat with Belkovich (??) sauce comes in a buttery brioche bun with a crab leg stuck where the cocktail stick should be, making it look very jaunty and, of course, prepped for Instagram.

Or there’s King Crab Leg Gratin – crab meat with béchamel sauce and cheese crust, or Red King Crab Pappardelle using squid ink pasta with a lobster bisque sauce.

We decided to share some pure leg and claw prepped over charcoal, as well as a dish of Singapore Chili Crab with rice.

The pure meat dish was not a lot of crab for the cash, but then again King Crab isn’t exactly scampi so you can’t expect to get a lot.

It was as good as I remember it from eating it in Norway ten years when I had fierce monsters dragged fresh from the Bering Sea.

As I say, it has the texture and some of the appearance of lobster, although it doesn’t get caught in your teeth as much, and is sublimely sweet. The smokiness of the charcoal was a big plus here

A tangle of pickled cabbage served with it was all that was needed; no fries please, this isn’t street food, and we politely offered each other equal shares of leg and claw.

The Singapore Chili Crab was loaded with fresh red chillies, but they turned out to be less Rottweiler and more Poodle in their aggression.

Normally this would have disappointed me, but in fact it was just as well as the crab meat was delicately flavoured and didn’t need to be savaged by chili. Overall it was actually a little too sweet for my taste, and while it didn’t need chili, a bit of salt might have been welcome.

Garlic and lime flavours came through smoothly and spring onions added a bit of fresh crunch. Talking of which, we didn’t come across any crab shell, something that all too often irritates me in crab dishes.

The rice was rather like Japanese sushi rice, round and not long, I would have preferred Thai Jasmine or simple Basmati.

Desserts are fairly standard, but come out looking very pretty. Mine was too sugary but apart from that it was okay. Nothing to crab about.

There aren’t that many places that do King Crab in London and that’s a shame because it is a very special crustacean which for me, and many others, knocks the claws off of lobster.

Here they have got servicing it down to a fine art, and you don’t have to be rich. Set menus and brunches give everyone the chance to get their pincers on some royalty at a decent price.

This review appears on www.foodepedia.co.uk

Romulo Cafe Restaurant Review

343 Kensington High Street London, W8 6NW www.romulocafe.co.uk

How often have you heard someone say, ‘I know, let’s go out for a Filipino? Probably about as often as you’ve heard someone say ‘I fancy a bit of German food tonight.’

Filipino food is, let’s be honest, not a cuisine that has had much exposure. You’re more likely to find a chef from the Ukraine on Saturday Kitchen than one from the Philippines.

So Romulo Cafe is intriguing.  It’s a branch of a small group, there’s also a Romulo Café in Quezon City, Makati and Alabang in the Philippines.

Located in a rather unprepossessing part of West Ken, next to one of those all-night grocers that has everything anyone from any culture could ever want, it’s actually a lot nicer inside than you might expect. Cosy, even. Continue reading

Going On An Extraordinary Odyssey

Out of my postcode, I go out of this world with The Grand Expedition by the Gingerliners. 

The text message came through at 4pm, as promised, with instructions to go by 7pm to a certain station on the Victoria line with directions to a nearby venue.

Three hours later we are somewhat apprehensively emerging out of an unfamiliar station into an unfamiliar postcode. Here be dragons?

The directions are simple enough. With other travellers, clearly on the same adventure as us, we form up as a squad and chat and compare Google maps to make sure we are on the right track.

Shortly after we are outside the venue, which is not very impressive but rather thrilling. Dark and dingy it seems more a place for a dodgy deal, or to meet a Russian secret agent for a Novichok cocktail. Continue reading