I’m no foodie, despite my best efforts. I watch Saturday Kitchen far too much, and will regularly wile away a stack of time watching the train-wreck-level-addictive Come Dine With Me. I’m also partial to making a butt-load of mess all over the kitchen in a culinary frenzy, but this does not a foodie make. Were you to rock up for dinner, I’m not likely to present you with a tall stack of julienned vegetables and sauce dripped in artistic fashion around a square plate. You’ll get a south Indian curry, or some tacos, or a bobotie, and you’ll like it. But it’s still fun to go out now and again to treat oneself.

It doesn’t really gel with the frugality necessary to save for a Masters course next year, so my eating out is limited, for the most part, to when work (or someone else) pays for it. Since my accident, I think I’ve been out for dinner just the thrice, and I’ve only paid for one. Warning: I’m no food reviewer (if you want to read interesting things about food, I heartily recommend Eat Like A Girl; World Foodie Guide; Cheese & Biscuits). First up was Back To Basics, in “Titchfield Village” (a new one on me, I’d have said Fitzrovia). Entirely a fish restaurant, this isn’t somewhere I’d therefore choose to go on my own terms. Nonetheless, after a wonderfully soft fillet of sea bass with ginger and all sorts of of delicate herbs I was won over. My companions’ dishes also looked fantastic; snapper was off but the pick of the day seemed to be the seafood platter, almost a bouillebaisse with crab claws, king prawns and the like. (Review by Dinners in London).

Later to Skorpios, a local restaurant to me, on Philip Lane in Tottenham. Recommended for its steaks I confess to having ben swayed by the Greek menu, and would happily have eaten almost everything on the menu: or at least, would have were it not for the traditionally Greek immensity of portion (something The Real Greek could learn from). In the end I went with afelia to follow a halloumi starter, but would happily have devoured anything I saw at my companions’ plates, be it kleftiko, dolmades or a cowpat sized heap of taramasalata. Excellent food, a nice, quiet little joint, and I’ll certainly be returning to try out those steaks. (Review at Restaurant-Guide).

Most recently to Rosemary Lane, Royal Mint Street. This is bizarrely tucked away giving it very much a those-in-the-know feel, which explains why it’s always so empty. It’s certainly nothing to do with the food, and this being my fourth visit, I’ve never had anything that’s less than superb. On previous visits the duck and fig salad, scallops and pork belly (of course!) have been highlights: last evening I went with a starter of heirloom beetroot (read: yellow) and chorizo – good, though not the finest chorizo I’ve ever eaten – then a sumptuous steak with a dark sticky sherry reduction. Really excellent, though I still have to ascertain why I order medium-rare when really that always brings it back cooked more than I’d want. (Reviewed by  East London Local and Tipped)

So, that’s my round-up – plans for forthcoming weeks include wallet-watching trips to Ates in Tottenham or Antepliler on Green Lanes; good old fashioned Indian at Jashan on Turnpike Lane; or cultural tourism at Muna’s Sudanese and Eritrean restaurant, again on Green Lanes. See you there, and bring your recommendations with you.


3 Responses

  1. Is that your bunny in the photo? How adorable!

  2. Sadly no – the nearest I have to pets is Calvin and Hobbes the goldfish, and a moth infestation…

  3. Thanks for the mention!

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