Posted by Krista on June 17, 2009
Georgette
29, rue Saint-Georges
Paris, France 75009
Date of Last Visit: Thursday, June 4, 2009
The Victim: Colleague from Paris office
The Damage: Unknown, he paid.
The Background: Every so often, I learn something new about myself. In hindsight, many of these new things are maybe not surprising. But for me, at the time, they’re revelations.
So it was when my co-worker took me out to lunch in Paris. He took me to the little cafe, Georgette, in the 9th. He had heard good things from his co-workers. And I’d generally agree with those good things. But…
The Entrance: Georgette is sunny and open and colorful. It seems to be run by women and a quick look at Zagats confirms that. We grab a seat and a server promptly arrives at our table. She speaks to both of us, but as I can only ask for the check in French, I have no idea what she’s saying.
My colleague looks at me and looks at the menu (he’s holding two: mine, his) and then he looks back at me. He says, “Do you like prawns?” I say “Well, yes, prawns are okay.” (Knowing in the back of my mind that this is France and they will be prawns served still in their shells, which I just am not good with.)
He hands the menus back to the server and it’s done.
It’s done.
He’s ordered my food for me. I haven’t even had a chance to look at the menu. (And while I can’t speak French, I know enough food nouns to be dangerous.) And really, he hasn’t looked at the menu either!
I am seething.
Seething! I don’t even know what I’m having. I have no idea what just transpired. How did this happen?
I ask my colleague if the prawns are going to be served in their shells, and he says, “Maybe. Probably.” And I watch plate after plate come out of the kitchen and indeed, the prawns are served in their shells.
I wouldn’t describe myself as a person who gets angry–tense, yes, angry no. But the wave of anger I felt rushing over me as I thought of all the delicious things on that menu that I would never get to try…arrggghhh. I wanted to poke somebody’s eyes out with the toothpicks that came with our tiny little olives.
The Food: “It” arrives. And it’s fine. The shells on the prawns have already been prepared so they can be removed easily. It’s a fresh summery dish. But honestly, I can’t concentrate on it because I seriously WANT TO SEE THE MENU.
The Verdict: Georgette was nice. But warning: unless it’s Chinese or tapas, don’t order my food for me. Or I’ll poke your eyes out.
P.S. I know this is a terrible “restaurant review.” I also know that I am a terrible person. Sorry.
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Posted in France, French, Paris | 5 Comments
Posted by Krista on May 18, 2009
Le Cassoulet
18 Selsdon Rd
South Croydon
CR2 6PA
Date of Last Visit: Thursday, April 23, 2009
The Victim: Myself
The Damage: About £18
The Background: I like my new phone–the Nokia e71–but I hate its camera. I like its Blackberry-like keyboard. I like the ease of checking my two main Gmail accounts and my Facebook account and Twitter, all in one-click.
But damn, does it take crappy photos. So you'll have to forgive the shots here. Please. (But I know you're here for the restaurant reviews and not the mobile phone reviews, right?) Unfortunately, the e71 was all I had when I found myself in Croydon with a few hours to kill.
Oddly, I found Croydon quite pleasant. There's good shopping in Croydon. And a nice pedestrian zone.
And a French restaurant. A good one. Although it's nowhere near the Home Office, where I was stuck for the day. Really, I should have taken the bus.
The Entrance: I've walked all the way from Lunar House to Le Cassoulet, on the advice of my fellow Twitter-fiends and London food and restaurant bloggers. I'd read about Le Cassoulet before, but I'd never really had a reason to go to Croydon before. But here I was. And I was sweaty and hot, to be honest. Croydon is hot. And a little bit loud. There are a lot of buses in Croydon.
But Le Cassoulet is cool and calm and tranquil. And there's no one there. Just me. Then again, they've been open all of like two minutes when I arrive.
The Service: They are sweet and hospitable and I'm given a comfortable table up front but against a little divider, which is nice. I defer to my server's recommendation for wine, which of course at this stage, I've completely forgotten. But it's nice. And I've brought my WSET books, so drinking alone at 12:30 on a Thursday somehow doesn't seem THAT weird.
Oddly, despite the very solid food, I was the only customer in the restaurant for the duration of my visit.
The Food: Asparagus, a poached egg, and some parmesan to start. Actually, a lot of parmesan. The presentation, I'd say, was exuberant. There was a lot of parmesan. This is not a bad thing. I just noticed it, that was all. The asparagus was great…firm, a little crunch to it, fresh. Lovely.
This was VERY quickly followed by sea bream and courgettes and I really enjoyed this. I know–I came all this way, why didn't I have the cassoulet? Well, like I said, it was HOT. Stew on a hot day just doesn't work for me. Hence the sea bream, which was nice and crispy on the outside, and lots of grilled courgettes. Nice.
The Verdict: I probably won't have a reason to go back to Croydon for a while. But I'm still glad I went to Le Cassoulet. And I'd say if you're in that neck of the woods, you should go too.
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Posted in French | 10 Comments
Posted by Krista on April 15, 2009
L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon
13-15 West Street
WC2H 9NE
Date of Last Visit: Thursday, April 9
The Victim: My dad
The Damage: £85 for two with a number of wines by the glass. We should have just gotten a bottle of wine.
The Background: The times, they must be tough in London. Because you know Joel Robuchon? He's offering two courses for £19 on TopTable.co.uk. £19! And they have a glass of Shiraz on the menu for £5 a glass! This is cheaper per person than a lot of my gastropub meals. Interesting.
The Entrance: Dad and I are bang on time. I am a little worried about taking my dad to JR. He's more of a fried clams kind of guy. (So I obviously must not get my delusions of grandeur from him.) But the restaurant's service from the beginning to end is really friendly, yet professional, and we're made to feel at home.
We're given two prime seats at the bar. We're not exactly directly in front of the open kitchen, but we're only a seat or two off of it and the view is mesmerizing. These guys are very precise.
The Starters: Pea soup for dad and the look on his face when they deliver the bowl with croutons aber sans soup is priceless. Our server is being funny and whips the soup out from behind his back. Crisis averted.
For me, it's a soft-boiled egg with some very finely sliced beetroot and a smear of this and that. It's gorgeously presented. But I can't help thinking…high margin.
Still, all in all, the presentation is really wonderful and the service is keen and engaged and fun to watch. The food is good.
The Mains: On the £19 menu, you only have two choices: so it's squid risotto for my dad and some sort of stuffed pig's trotter for me. I just like to say the word trotter.
The risotto is nice, if bland. And maybe just a little too crunchy for risotto. My pig's trotter turns out to be fried and while I'm initially a bit upset about it, I get over myself. Because it's delicious, even though it is stuffed with mushrooms, only one of my least favorite things. It's on a bed of honey-glazed carrots and they're very nice. For carrots. Really, had it been described as "something deep fried stuffed with mushrooms on a bed of carrots," you couldn't describe something I wouldn't want to eat more.
Sometimes, you know it's all in the delivery.
The Verdict: You know, I liked it here. Maybe it's because I'm a pretentious something-or-other with delusions of grandeur. But maybe it's just because the service was nice, watching the kitchen was awesome, and the food was pretty good. My dad gives it a good review too.
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Posted in French, London, United Kingdom, WC2 | 14 Comments
Posted by Krista on April 15, 2009
L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon
13-15 West Street
WC2H 9NE
Date of Last Visit: Thursday, April 9
The Victim: My dad
The Damage: £85 for two with a number of wines by the glass. We should have just gotten a bottle of wine.
The Background: The times, they must be tough in London. Because you know Joel Robuchon? He's offering two courses for £19 on TopTable.co.uk. £19! And they have a glass of Shiraz on the menu for £5 a glass! This is cheaper per person than a lot of my gastropub meals. Interesting.
The Entrance: Dad and I are bang on time. I am a little worried about taking my dad to JR. He's more of a fried clams kind of guy. (So I obviously must not get my delusions of grandeur from him.) But the restaurant's service from the beginning to end is really friendly, yet professional, and we're made to feel at home.
We're given two prime seats at the bar. We're not exactly directly in front of the open kitchen, but we're only a seat or two off of it and the view is mesmerizing. These guys are very precise.
The Starters: Pea soup for dad and the look on his face when they deliver the bowl with croutons aber sans soup is priceless. Our server is being funny and whips the soup out from behind his back. Crisis averted.
For me, it's a soft-boiled egg with some very finely sliced beetroot and a smear of this and that. It's gorgeously presented. But I can't help thinking…high margin.
Still, all in all, the presentation is really wonderful and the service is keen and engaged and fun to watch. The food is good.
The Mains: On the £19 menu, you only have two choices: so it's squid risotto for my dad and some sort of stuffed pig's trotter for me. I just like to say the word trotter.
The risotto is nice, if bland. And maybe just a little too crunchy for risotto. My pig's trotter turns out to be fried and while I'm initially a bit upset about it, I get over myself. Because it's delicious, even though it is stuffed with mushrooms, only one of my least favorite things. It's on a bed of honey-glazed carrots and they're very nice. For carrots. Really, had it been described as "something deep fried stuffed with mushrooms on a bed of carrots," you couldn't describe something I wouldn't want to eat more.
Sometimes, you know it's all in the delivery.
The Verdict: You know, I liked it here. Maybe it's because I'm a pretentious something-or-other with delusions of grandeur. But maybe it's just because the service was nice, watching the kitchen was awesome, and the food was pretty good. My dad gives it a good review too.
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Posted in French, London, United Kingdom, WC2 | No Comments
Posted by Krista on March 25, 2009
Terroirs
5 William IV Street
WC2N 4DW
Date of Last Visit: Saturday, March 14th, 2009
The Victim: Me
The Damage: £25
The Background: I was out on a highly unsuccessful errand. Sometimes I think I send myself on these errands, knowing that they will be unsuccessful. This way, I can skip straight to lunch and get a blog post out of things more quickly.
I call Terroirs in advance to see if they can squeeze me in. It's a Saturday afternoon around 2 p.m. What do I know? They tell me to come on over.
The Entrance: I had no idea Terroirs was so close to Trafalgar Square. In a way, this makes me worried. Surely, they will be packed with tourists! But no. The restaurant is actually pretty empty for a Saturday lunch.
I'm given a seat at the restaurant's bar–this is a good place for the solo diner–and the guy behind the bar hands me a menu and then promptly forgets about me. A while later, he comes back and I place my order–smoked eel and some sort of polenta. I take his recommendation on the wine. And he suggests some bread.
And then I wait. And I wait. And then the wine arrives. And then I wait and I wait some more. My server apologizes for forgetting the bread. I say, "That's okay." I assume he'll bring it immediately. He doesn't. And I wait. And I wait. And I wait some more. I ask him, "Hey, how about that bread?" And he is super apologetic and brings it to me.
And all this while, I really wish I had ordered the duck scratchings to start me out.
The Food: The eel arrives and it's good. I took a picture, but my new camera phone kinda sucks so I've got nothing to show you. But the polenta with mushrooms…the polenta is fantastic! And I'm not really a huge mushroom fan. I debate ordering a second helping. But I figure that's not a good idea.
The Verdict: I liked Terroirs. I'd want to return and review more things on the menu. Was not so impressed with the speed of the service though.
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Posted in French, London, United Kingdom, WC2 | 2 Comments
Posted by Krista on March 23, 2009
Galvin's Bistro de Luxe
66 Baker Street
W1U 7DJ
Date of Last Visit: Sunday, March 1, 2009
The Victim: Stacey
The Damage: £25ish each
The Background: Stacey and I are headed to the Kinetica Art Fair in Marylebone. It's all about light and sound and movement. It sounds cool. The reviews are cool. And it IS cool. It's one of those random things you do in London where you have no expectations and WHAM…the thing is great.
But then BAM! They have no electricity. Yup. All the power goes down. All of it. Kinda defeats the purpose of an art show all about light and sound and movement, huh?
That's okay. I wanted to have lunch anyways.
The Entrance: I've rang up Galvin's from the Robert Dyas on Baker Street, which unfortunately for me and my new television, has no RF cables. Can Galvin's take two in 10 minutes? Yes! They can!
The Entertainment: They sit us at a great corner table in the restaurant next to a guy that had to be 50+ who was obviously having a little romantic rendezvous with a rosy-cheeked gal younger than me. Interesting. Maybe I really should widen my age range on all those online dating sites. It could fund my lunch habit.
The Food: We opt for the prix fixe. But here's what's happened, three weeks later. I sit around looking at the pictures I've downloaded from my phone and I keep thinking, "Where the hell was that? I don't remember eating that." Seriously, I must have looked at these photos at least five times before I remember that they were from lunch at Galvin's Bistro de Luxe. As you can tell, I had blurry orange soup. I also had this, which I vaguely remember was pork. It was blurry pork as well.
The Service: I remember that they were nice. But they really didn't want to bring me my glass of wine until my main was in front of me. This might be the proper French way of doing things. If so, I accept that.
The Verdict: I was surprised by how large and spacious Galvin's Bistro de Luxe was. I expected something very French-bistro-esque with tiny tables that waiters push you into. You know, the tables from which you cannot escape, even when you want to go to the ladies. But there was lots of room at Galvin's. That I remember. Now if only I could remember the food in order to write a proper review…
Oh, and we did get back to the art fair and they had power. It was a great show. Watch out for it if they do it again next year.
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Posted in French, London, United Kingdom, W1 | 2 Comments
Posted by Krista on February 6, 2009
La Creperie de Hampstead
77 Hampstead High Street
NW7 1RE
Date of Last Visit: Sunday, 24th of January, 2009
The Victim: Me
The Damage: Less than £5
The Background: Julie and I have just been to California Nails to, well, have our nails done. This place fascinates me because it is ALWAYS full of Americans. I know a lot of Americans live in Hampstead, but surely, there are more British women in Hampstead than American women. Apparently, British women don't believe in getting their nails done. Or maybe they're just boycotting California Nails for some reason.
I try to convince Julie to come with me for a crepe, but she gets lost is some sort of celebrity gossip mag (a rotten excuse if I've ever heard one) and misses our post-manicure rendezvous.
The Entrance: There's a big queue for Le Creperie de Hampstead. (Hereafter known as "The Crepe Cart.") I must have waited at least 15 minutes. When I finally get up to the front of the queue, one of the most unpleasant women of all time takes my order. She must have been having a REALLY bad day. My favorite was when an American dude behind me somewhere in line asked to no one in particular "What does savoury mean?" (We don't use "savoury"so much in the States. Maybe among foodies. But not really otherwise.) The woman at the counter yelled, kinda snottily if you ask me, "WHAT'S SAVOURY? IT'S THE OPPOSITE OF SWEET." I know that means so much sense to a British person, but it really wouldn't have made sense to me five years ago.
The being said, this woman is a WORKHORSE. She is making crepes like there is no tomorrow. She's got an amazing system going. One of these days, I need to go back and take a video. It was that amazing.
The Food: I go for a ham, mushroom, and cheese crepe with tarragon sauce. It takes ages to prepare. One sweet crepe after another goes past me, while I'm still waiting for my ham and cheese. But finally, it arrives…
And it is one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten.
Really. The crepe is nicely toasted all around the edges. It isn't floppy. The tarragon sauce is wonderful. The only thing that could have been better were the mushrooms. They may have been tinned. Honestly, with some fresh button mushrooms, I would have died and gone to heaven. Now I understand the queues.
The Verdict: I will go back here many times. Many.
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Posted in French, London, N7, United Kingdom | 4 Comments
Posted by Krista on January 29, 2009
Le Mercury
140a Upper Street
N1 1Q
Date of Last Visit: Monday, December 29th
The Victim: Me
The Damage: Cheap! Like less than £20 with a glass of wine.
The Background: Oh, I am just so very tired. But I've discovered over the years that the only way to recover from the trans-atlantic flight is to soldier through. I've done two loads of laundry and all sorts of errands. So now it's time for lunch.
My original plan was to go someplace central. Somewhere fancy. But I've watched too many movies on the flight over (Virgin Atlantic), and I am dragging.
One night, not so many weeks ago, I was out with the guys from Tipped.co.uk (fantastic social guide to things in London), making pom-poms at The Make Lounge (very cool place for getting crafty). I remember walking home (vaguely, as there was, somewhat surprisingly, a lot of champagne involved in the making of pom-poms) and wandering by Le Mercury. It was all candle-lit and full and gorgeous. Le Mercury by night is lovely.
So with this memory flittering through my sleep-deprived brain, it is to Le Mercury for lunch I go. and this time, it is sunny. Very sunny. And the windows at Le Mercury are large. Perfect.
The Entrance: I have my choice of tables. My waiter seems shy and not French. I don't mind so much.
The Starter: Foie gras with "poached dates." Poached dates, to me, sounds like dates that should be soft and warm. These were hard and cold, harder than any date I've ever ever had. A bit of a bust. But the foie gras was nice. Although the toast portion was paltry.
The Main: Crispy-skinned sea bass with crushed potatoes and minted pesto. It's all very nice. It would be even nicer if I were drinking French wine, but I'm not because I review their wine list and the wines by the glass all seem to come from someplace else. I find this a little bit odd, but it's fine.
The Verdict: Decent, well-priced food in a nice atmosphere. Too bad about the dates. And the wine.
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Posted in French, London, N1, United Kingdom | 2 Comments
Posted by Krista on December 4, 2008
Le Bouchon Breton
8 Horner Square
Old Spitalfield Market
E1 6EW
Date of Last Visit: Sunday, November 30th, 2008
The Victim: Me
The Damage: £20
The Background: The saga of my hot water heater continues. The manufacturer is sending someone out to take a look. He is, they tell me, scheduled to arrive between 9 and 9.
Yes, you read that correctly. He'll be there at some point after 9 a.m. and before 9 p.m.
I'm a prisoner in my own home. And I have NOTHING to eat.
I imagine the worst, me wasting away–starving–in my flat until 8:45 p.m., only to have him arrive at 9 p.m. and discover he's missing the parts he needs.
But, to my surprise, he shows up at 12:30 p.m. and is gone by 1 p.m. and my hot water has been plentiful and, well, hot ever since.
So it's time for lunch.
The Entrance: I wander around and around Spitalfields, looking for Le Bouchon Breton. It's upstairs. So look up! I enter and everyone is SO happy to see me. There are a lot of staff at Le Bouchon. There's someone to greet me. Someone to show me to my table. Someone to give me the menu and explain the specials. Someone to take my food order. Someone to take my bread order. Someone to take my drink order. I'm serious.
But you know what…they are all so darned CHEERFUL that I cannot help but be charmed. Some of the most cheerful service I've ever had in London. (The vast majority of staff seem to be French.)
The Food: French onion soup is nice. It's better than average. There are lots of onions and lots of cheese and the crouton is really toasted so it doesn't dissolve too quickly. My croque monsieur is thick and cheesy, although the ham seems a bit supermarketish in its thinness. I would have liked the ham to have been a bit meatier. The wine server suggests a Rioja to accompany my two dishes, which I was a bit surprised about, given that he appeared to be French and we were, after all, in a French restaurant. But it did the trick.
The Goodbye: As I went to leave, not one but four (if not five) separate members of staff bid me adieu. Not bad.
The Loos: Had a Dyson Airblade.
The Verdict: I was charmed by the staff. The food was okay. I would give this another shot.
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Posted in E1, French, London, United Kingdom | 5 Comments
Posted by Krista on October 21, 2008
Comptoir Gascon
63 Charterhouse Street
EC1M 6HA
Tel: 020 7608 0851
Date of Last Visit: Saturday 18 October 2008
The Victim: Me
The Damage: £11 because I bought some stuff.
The Background: I have no food in the house. Why I do this to myself, I just don't know. So I wake up, starving. Despite last night's excess. And debate my options. I don't want to go to anywhere I've ever been before. So I go to Time Out, which still has one of the best search features around, I think. (Although their Area/Post Code List leaves something to be desired. How about letting me search by Tube Station? I swear they used to have this functionality.) I run this search. And Le Comptoir Gascon it is.
The Entrance: I hate the blue chairs. (Sorry, should have taken a photo.) Really, I hate them. And I don't hate things that often. But I like the big farmhouse table. So I ponder their selections and order a croissant and a decaf latte and catch up on Time Out.
The Food: The croissant is really nice. No idea if they make it themselves. Should have asked. The decaf latte is good too. Really, I'm fine.
I order a loaf of bread, a quiche, and a lemon tart on my way out. Nice.
The Verdict: Nice. But still hate the chairs.
P.S. Don't forget…blog about Your Perfect Day in London by October 24th. I'll summarize all the blog posts for all to publish on their blogs as a traffic-building exercise…
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Posted in EC1, French, London, United Kingdom | 3 Comments
Posted by Krista on August 6, 2008
Bleeding Heart
Bleeding Heart Yard
Greville Street
EC1N 8SJ
Date of Last Visit: Friday, August 1, 2008
The Victims: Jen, Feathers, Siri
The Damage: £40 each
The Background: I’ve just given a presentation to about 150 people. I think I did good.
But golly do I need a beer.
OK, maybe about three beers.
And then…and then do you know what I really need?
I need a French dinner at a romantic French restaurant with three very American gals. (Four, really. Counting my Yankee-turned-traitor self.)
The Entrance: I am more than a little charmed by the entrance to The Bleeding Heart. I like the courtyard. I like how we’re greeted…very French. Very charming. They take my very heavy backpack (why I didn’t leave it at the office, I don’t know) and we’re shown to our table in the very romantically and cozily lit Bleeding Heart.
Gentlemen, if you’re reading this, you should take the special someone in your life here. Tomorrow.
The Drink: Feathers orders a New Zealand white, which I just don’t understand. We’re in a French restaurant! And there’s a sommerlier! Why just pick randomly? She is too fast for me. I could have used a Sancerre.
The Food: We order two starters to share…one, a trinity of duck, is a dish I don’t want to share. But I do. Because I work with these people and people talk. The other starter is unmemorable.
I get the sole as my main, suckered in by two words: "truffled" and "polenta." Imagine "truffled polenta." Yes. It was good. A little short on the polenta though.
The Service: Really lovely. Although I really didn’t need someone to walk me to the loo.
An Observation: Way too empty for a Friday evening!
The Verdict: I liked it here. I’m a girl. I’m a sucker.
P.S. Sorry for the slightly blurry photo. Three beers for someone who really hasn’t been drinking in 2008…
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Posted in EC1, French, London, United Kingdom | 5 Comments
Posted by Krista on March 25, 2008
Fouronine
409 Clapham Road
SW9 9BT
020 7737 0722
Date of Last Visit: Friday, 29 February 2008
Victims: Bryan, Stacey
Damage: £10 and two Hot Chip tickets. I'm serious.
The Background: We have tickets for Hot Chip at the Brixton Academy. And the show doesn't start until 11:30! Are they crazy? Apparently so. But it doesn't bother us because it's an excuse for a leisurely dinner somewhere. I do some Google map searches for restaurants that are relatively in the vicinity and/or easy to get to, and I come across Fouronine, a quick tube jaunt away. (With a change at Stockwell, but an easy change.)
The Entrance: I've never been to Clapham before. I know. What type of person am I? Remember I never told you I wasn't lazy. I imagine Clapham to be a cheerful and friendly, where everyone pushes a pram and has a cockerspaniel. There are no prams to be seen. And I'm a little weirded out by all the police warning signs around about burglars and car thieves. This is not the Clapham of my imagination. (Fouronine is at Clapham North tube. Maybe Clapham North is dodgier? You tell me.)
Anyhow, to enter Fouronine (conveniently located right across from the tube), you ring a bell and head up a dark and cold and wet staircase. Very speak-easy-ish. I'm liking it already. We're greeted at the door, our coats are taken, and we're shown to our table in the modern and slightly Scandinavian dining room.
Tap Water Test: Passed. Arrived instantaneously, as soon as we mentioned tap water. They had it ready there on the counter. And it was a whole big jug.
Non-alcoholic beverages: Passed. With flying colors. Didn't bat an eye when I asked for a recommendation. A mojito made with apple juice was so amazingly good. I kept adding water to the glass to make it last and I wouldn't let them take the dregs away from me.
Starters: Smoked haddock salad with new potatoes. Lovely. Very fresh and light. Beets, which I'm eating more of these days because they are, after all, good for you. Even though I still think they're sorta gross.
Bread: Lovely, and lots of it.
Main: Crisp fillet of sea bass with olive oil mash, grilled courgette and gremol. Amazing. Really. I wanted a second serving.
Pudding: Hot chocolate and walnut brownie with vanilla ice-cream. Basic, but just right.
Toilets: Co-ed! Now that's exciting. I think I scared some poor gentleman out of his wits.
Service: Really great at first. One noticed that Bryan still had more foie gras left but no toast. She brought him more bread. That was observant and good. But we felt a little deserted after our mains arrived.
Bummers: Mains were pricey. £17. Seems like a lot for a restaurant that's surrounded by signs warning burglars and car thieves that they're being watched.
The Verdict: Very, very very good. Could be even better if they could do something about the pesky thievery signs and if they can keep their service attentive all night long. Oh, and I think they're getting away with bloody murder by charging what they're charging. In Clapham.
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Posted in French, London, SW9, United Kingdom | 3 Comments
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