A London Journal

Resto 1 Banana Tree, Clapham

An average meal in the 'burbs.

Resto 35 José Pizarro at the Royal Academy, Piccadilly

A rare 9/10 - exceptional food, wine and service make José P the new go to in Piccadilly.

Resto 34 Rocca, South Kensington

It wasn't expensive for this area and it was strongly populated by students so they're obviously catering for a particular market. But not a market that is overly particular.

Resto 33 Papa L’s Kitchen, St James’s

It's a real plus to have somewhere a bit different in this part of town.

Resto 32 Tonkotsu, Finsbury Park

We were on the way to see The Banshees of Inishfree at the pictures in the new (-ish) development in Finsbury Park and with one of us doing Japanese lessons Tonkotsu seems to be a logical manoeuvre. Trade wasn’t brisk on a Saturday teatime but the welcome was friendly and we got a table near…

Resto 31 Pizza Sophia, Bloomsbury

A quick family meal before an aborted trip to view the Banshee of Inish-thing dinner at Sophie’s turned out to be the highlight of the evening (Marseilles, disappointingly, failing to beat Spurs later on). It’s a simple enough offer but that’s what we wanted. A better than usual salad went alongside a shared Calabria pizza…

Resto 30 Toklas, Aldwych

Quiet early on the room soon filled up with sophisticates either dining or taking yummy looking cocktails. It was expensive but excellence is worth paying for. Somewhere to go back to for a treat every now and again.

Resto 29 Ochre, Charing Cross

A curious one. We intended to go to the Winslow Homer exhib at the National so we thought trying out their rebooted eatery opposite St Martin’s afterwards would be a good idea. I had a bit of time to kill before meeting at the show so thought I’d pop in for a glass of wine…

Resto 30 Barav, Paris

The kind of place feel loath to review because I want it just for me.

Resto 28 Coda, Royal Albert Hall

The previous Prom I'd seen this summer was the Death Prom where we Londoners were assured that should we attempt to take a trip to a concert we would either be fried by the merciless rays of our nearest star or asphyxiated by the ferocious heat of our subterranean network.