Category: Other stuff
Date: 22 February 2002
Ok a gastropub. Pub nosh makes me nauseous, gastro ghastly pub. This one had a roaring fire and a couple of dyed blonde proprietors. A crowd of Clerkenwell Clerkies, the middle classes of creativity, filled up the not too ugly interior. The tables are booths with dark wood and leather. The menu is brasserie modern european, eschewing a soup, plunge straight into some mackerel, that looks suspiciously like those vacuum packed ones, but tastes like it might once have been fresh, chips are not bad. The plaice over the other side is reasonably cooked basic stuff, with mushy peas with pancetta, tastes like guacomole, to quote the great PM. It's ok it's ok stomach tells brain, instinct tells me never eat out in london, no pubs no dirty shoes. Two diners ask for a bottle of champagne, waitress cannot believe it, YOU WANT CHAMPAGNE? yes if that's ok, NOT PROSECCO, REAL CHAMPAGNE? yes if that's ok worried now. We must be in a recession. The puddings are very good. Chocolate fudge cake is like something my mother once made me. 40 pounds for two with house wine.
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