Blue Badge guide to London and academic specialising in early twentieth century history. Blogging on history, academia, and food and culture in the capital (and occasionally elsewhere).
The service was good - charmingly wonky, I like that. Other people paying these kinds of prices might prefer to cross the road to the Delaunay to seek the kind of standard they're used to paying for. For myself, I'm not sure I'd walk past Spring, which is just across the courtyard and in my experience does this kind of thing better.
In town to meet some of the finest minds in the world of Sports History I needed a lunch that would make me sharp not somnolent. The Castle Tea Rooms being next door to the venue it was an easy decision to eat there then stagger to the Quakers‘ (excellent) meeting room.* Tea is a…
Mass, taste, juice. A good burger.
Every athlete knows that the way to prepare for a ten mile race is to drink 6 pints and eat like a Belgian. Which is why I found myself in Huis the evening before the Great South Run.
Maybe Otto’s would have been a better punt after all.
Already a jolly party we were by no means discontented, but with one server struggling to keep pace with the demands of a fairly busy room the extra bonhomie that you need from a host to encourage an all out assault on the waistline and liver was definitely not forthcoming.
A very Belgian lunch in Liège.
Having dropped ninety quid in an hour for just enough food for a moderately-sized couple I realised that Fumo's dictator-chic interior is funded on the rapid turnover of dictator-budgeted clients spending such sums. It was fun while it lasted there's plenty of other places around St M's L that offer a similar service at less damage to the wallet.
The food was good but at 30 quid a head we were paying too much for what was on affer.
A white Rioja has enough beef to brighten up my conference pasted consciousness and we have a jolly enough time for £20 a head. Thanks Joe.
A London Journal 