Street food is my favourite thing to eat almost all the time. If food is salty, fried, spicy, pickled, if it’s handed to me wrapped in paper by some guy I just saw cook it, and I can dispense with forks and plates and cram it in my mouth, I’m ON IT like white on rice. Falafel – which arguably is older than the New Testament – is a perfect food. Done right, it’s a glimpse at the ineffable. It’s a pleasure loop. Continue reading
Three minutes after I got to Au Passage restaurant/wine bar, I started to fret that taking my parents there was a mistake. Let me explain: Au Passage is a hipster spot. Located down a slightly grungy alley in the 11th arrondissement, Au Passage looks and feels like a dive bar. The tables and chairs are a mish-mash of club chairs and hand-me-downs, the bar is fully stocked, the playlist seems to consist of nothing but the White Stripes, and the menu is 10 or 12 items scrawled on a chalkboard. In other words, it’s the kind of place where I feel right at home Continue reading
I am meat-drunk. I feel like I have been larded with drippings and slathered on toast. You see, I had brunch at Hawksmoor Spitalfields today.
This is not brunch for the fainthearted or weak-willed. There is no heart-healthy option. Nor is this brunch for vegetarians. No. This is brunch for meat-eaters and boozers, and I love it. Continue reading
Department of Coffee and Social Affairs is a bloody lovely coffee shop. It is also EXACTLY THE COFFEE SHOP I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR. Continue reading
If I were staying at the Town Hall Hotel in Bethnal Green, I would be in trouble, as I would never leave the Viajante Bar. I know, I know, you’re thinking, “what’s a blogger on a budget doing in a swank bar?” Drinking, that’s what. Which brings me to another IMPORTANT RULE: Always leave room in the budget for cocktails. Odds are you’ll need one. (I know I do.)
I have a new favourite cheap eats destination. (By “new” I mean “new to me.” Yalla Yalla has been open in Soho since 2008 and in Mayfair since 2010. I could weep at all the meals I could have eaten, but did not eat, at Yalla Yalla.)
Yalla Yalla could so easily have been precious. It is in Soho. It is trendy. It bills itself as serving “Beirut Street Food” (showing that it has me, and a whole lot of other people, dialed down). It could serve microscopic portions and charge an outrageous amount for alcohol. But Yalla Yalla is not precious, except perhaps literally, like my precious bottle of barrel aged single batch bourbon Continue reading
Susan eats London 