Our final day in Frankfurt and we were looking for somewhere near the station. But not too near, since on arriving two days previously we'd seen a feller have his head caved in with a beer bottle before receiving a floor-based kicking from two fellow drunks/drug addicts. I don't need to go on holiday to see that, I get plenty at Manor House already.
The service was charm itself and the room just as functional as you'd want from a pit stop pizzeria. Prices showed that K Town has slid nearer to Primrose Hill than it used to be so we retired to the Park Tavern for post-food relaxation and proper north London prices.
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…
It was one of those Saturdays where you’ve been at work all day and you can’t be bothered to go out anywhere in particular, so we stayed local. The Dusty Knuckle is a recent harbinger – along with the more established and quite hilarious ‘Local Shop’ – of the (semi) g************n of Harringay. While one…
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.
It's often the case that it's only when you move away from a place that you appreciate the finest things about it, which until then you'd either been ignorant of, or had taken for granted. Such was the case with Romanas in Ferryhill.
At about twenty quid a head with service I don't know why you'd go anywhere else for trad Italian in this neck of the woods.
Great pizza, bored staff, tedious customers.
Good pizza, proper Neapolitan fried stuff and a bit of a rant about paying for stuff in the National Gallery that you can usually see for free.
A London Journal 