120 Marylebone Lane
Tel: 020 7486 0878
Date of Last Visit: Sunday, September 24, 2006
The Victims: Rutton, Michael
The Damage: 27 quid each
The Background: Well, if you were following me last week, you saw that Michael is back from Australia! So Rutton, Michael and I met up for Sunday brunch. Now see, normally, I am very punctual. But after my 5k at the Tree-athlon the previous day, I ended up hanging out with Stacey and she took me to a Thai foot massage place on the Essex Road in Islington, and it was totally perfect and so I booked a massage for Sunday, but then my appointment was at 12 and the boys wanted to have brunch at 2 but I negotiated for 2:30 but then the bus–which normally drops me right at John Lewis–dropped me closer to Tottenham Court so I had to walk all the way to Marylebone High Street, and well, you get the point. I was late. And The Providores doesn’t serve food between 3 and 4.
The Beginning: So Rutton took charge and sent us walking towards what looked, on the outside, to be a deserted restaurant. (I totally feel like writing "Anon!" here, but I won’t.) He announced that we had reached our destination, and I saw the word Entrecote and I was sad. I do like the Entrecote. But well, I was hoping for non-concept. OMG I am such a snob.
The Middle: Michael felt like some rose, so we amused him. He’s newly back in the country, you know. And then the green salad arrived. It was okay. And then the steak and frites arrived, and it was so less fun then the other Entrecote that I was very sad. See, in the Baker Street Entrecote, they bring the meat to the table on its own little flame and you can watch it go from rare to medium. It’s pretty cool. But not here. It was all controlled portions. Like I was on a diet. Not that I’m not. But you understand.
The End: I guess there was some big golf match, so we ate dessert really quickly, but Michael was smart and ordered 2 while we weren’t looking. One chocolate cake, one sort of other thing with chocolate and puffy pastry and cream and ice cream. Can’t fault that!
The Verdict: It’s fun. It’s the LCD. You can’t not like it.