In Frankfurt for the weekend we were ravenous after leaving the train and in no mood to wander far to find some food so the Black Chicken was chosen purely for its proximity to the hotel. Set off Frankfurt’s main shopping street it was a good spot to dine on the terrace and we joined…
And thanks to the waiter who then also brought us a bonus Limoncello each, which we wolfed down before going on the hunt for more random ancestor-related properties (them) and a comfortable bench in the V&A to prepare for staying awake in the cinema (me).
Would I go back? Probably not. Would I recommend it for a good, quick, cheap-ish meal if you're in the area. Possibly, it's got to be better than Café Rouge.
A misremembered good meal.
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.
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…
I'd go back to Sublime if I was hungry and in the neighbourhood but for this money there's better Italian action to be had by the half dozen around Stroud Green.
It feels like a long time ago that we went to Santoré so my failing memory means that this post will be brief. After a festive jar in the excellent Shakespeare’s Head we were back to Exmouth Market for nosh. Indian not being to my wife’s taste we compromised with Italian. Santoré does the standard…
Improbably in Florence for a conference dedicated to Marivaux studies I was with my fellow delegates in search of a good, cheap place to eat. Fortunately we had Italians among our number and we managed to squeeze into a table at Osteria dell’Agnolo. Its location so close to the Duomo rang alarm bells with me…
Those of you who under the age of 40 who have seen Murder on the Orient Express would imagine that any travel to Paris in pre-Eurostar days involved personalised leather suitcases, glamorous travelling companions and silver service dining on a sleek machine-missile headed straight to the heart of lovetown. And murder.
A London Journal 