Canteen
Royal Festival Hall
Belvedere Rd
London SE1 8XX

Date of Last Visit: 24 November 2008

The Victims: Ben, Robyn

The Damage: Two tickets to Ferran Adria at Royal Festival Hall

The Background: I have two extra tickets to see Jay Rayner interview Ferran Adria at Royal Festival Hall. I check in with Ben and he is game; his colleague Robyn comes along.

We make plans to meet at Canteen at 6:15. Now let me tell the folks that work at Canteen…it's all in the delivery. I walk in a little after 6. I ask for table for three, there is no one behind me and no one in front of me, and the dude that meets me at the door is just SOO very rude. He explains–rudely, not politely–that I can't sit down until the rest of my party is there (Totally fine! I understand!) and that I can't wait up front (Um, okay), I have to go to the bar, and no I can't book a table (even though they do take reservations). I jokingly suggest that I'll walk outside and give them a call and he is so NOT laughing.

The Food: Ben and Robyn arrive and we do get a table but our host abrubptly informs us that he needs the table back by 8:30. Um, it's like 6:40 p.m. Fine.

So we sit. We order. And we wait. And wait. And wait. Honestly, I think it was about 25 minutes in between ordering and food.

Chicken curry pie for me. It's good. But I ate it so fast, that I barely remember what it tasted like.

The Verdict: I don't know. Maybe you should go. But don't be in a rush or anything.

The post Canteen first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

 

The East Room
2a Tabernacle St, Shoreditch, EC2A 4LU
Tel: 020 7374 9570

Date of Last Visit: Wednesday, October 15, 2008

The Victim: Fellow London restaurant blogger, Chris

The Damage: Oh God I forget. £20 each? It was more than I thought it would be given that all we had were mains and tap water.

The Background: You might know Chris from his blog, Cheese & Biscuits, where he reviews some of London's finest restaurants. Turns out we work RIGHT across the street from each other. Random. The world, again, is a small place. The other day, for example, I had lunch with Ian, the first commenter on my Perfect Saturday in London post. (He did offer to marry me, after all.) Turns out, he knows Douglas. Yes. Odd.

Well, after much dilly-dallying on my part, Chris and I finally meet up at The East Room for lunch. He doesn't take any pictures. I do. WIth my Nokia N82, of course. 

I love the company of food bloggers. Because we can talk about food and blogging and wine and blogging and cheese and blogging and no one will think us weird and boring and/or obsessive. So that's what Chris and I did.

Now let's hope he brings back Cheese of The Month. I think I convinced him. But I'm not quite sure.

The Food: Lamb and veg for him. Linguini with chili crab for me. I like my linguini. To be honest, it's a little pedestrian and mushy. But it's really buttery and luscious and spicy. I'm happy. And I know I have the Shoreditch Twit later, so I'm filling up…

He likes his lamb. He particularly likes his veg. I'll let him add his comments and expand upon both. And maybe he'll post his own review.

The Decor: You might know I'm a huge sucker for Danish Modern. So I love The East Room.

The Fullness: Empty! At 1 p.m. on a Wednesday.

The Verdict: I love The East Room. It's not the food though. Really, for me, it's the tilework. I'm serious. I appreciate good tilework.

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…

The post The East Room first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Friday, August 10, 2008

The Victims: Al, Darsh, John, Rutton

The Damage: £62 each

The Background: Rutton says I don’t write enough about the restaurants I visit in London. He wants more details. But see…I have a short attention span. So I assume everyone else does too. And I’m not Giles…I can’t get away with 1,374 words. Michael Winner’s latest comes in at a reasonable 812. A.A. Gill weighs in at a hefty 1,454. Jay Rayner is a very tight and right 777.  Fay Maschler, 886.

Besides not having that many words, I don’t have all that much time, what with having a day job and all that. But I will endeavour, as best as I can, to tell you more about The Botanist than I have about other places I have been in the past.

The Entrance: The Botanist is full of Sloaney Ponies. I feel brunette. I feel short. I feel like I should be wearing something, anything, in gold lame. Just a little sparkle. I retire in navy blue to a corner table…an empty corner table with two chairs. There’s a gentleman sitting in an awkwardly positioned chair in front of my table, a chair with a foot stool. I ask him if it’s okay if I sit at this table…is it free? Yes, he tells me, yes.

Well then of course Rutton arrives and takes the other chair and all of a sudden the table ISN’T free because this gentleman’s friends have arrived and now they have nowhere to sit. I hear him tell his friends that he had saved this table and that he was here first and I think "THAT IS SO NOT WHAT YOU TOLD ME. YOU SAID IT WAS FINE."

I am not an idiot. I turn to him. I smile sweetly and I say, "Why don’t you and your friends take this table? You were here first." I can stand. And I have better things to do than to fight with a soon-to-be-out-of-work-investment-banker. (If he’s not out of work already.)

Arrgh. Can’t we all be brothers?

The Service: We were seven and now we’re five and we didn’t call ahead to tell them that and you can tell they are peeved. In a polite sort of way. They squeeze us all into a table for four. Three of us on the banquet. I sit in between Al and Rutton and we try not to elbow each other through the course of our meal.

But our server is lovely. Attentive and kind and friendly and professional. They have a good egg in that one.

The Food: I start with the chicken and foie gras terrine and they’ve managed to make it very summery, for a terrine of foie gras. It’s lovely, really. Darsh’s crab and avocado cocktail looks even more summery and light than mine. He says it is.

After polishing off two bottles of Spanish Abarino (not on my own), my halibut arrives. It’s nice, but a tad on the salty side. Really, it’s just okay. The duck looks great. As does the suckling pig.

The Loos: Neat and clean. As I leave the ladies, I run into a guy in blue spandex with a yellow cape. I’m not kidding.

The Dessert: One of the tangiest and best slices of lemon tart I’ve ever had. Served with a good scoop of raspberry sorbet.

The Ambiance: LOUD. Really really loud. Just a few  cushions would help. Really. A happening bar. I would come here later in the evening just to hang out. But I would wear my four inch platforms and get blond highlights and lose 10 15 kilos first. Just to fit in, you know.

The Verdict: Nice. Really. Lively.

The post The Botanist first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: 11 March 2007

The Victims: Al, Louise

The Damage: £35

The Background: I am expanding my geographical horizons. I have never been to Hornsey before. (Have you?) I meet Al & Louise and Michael in Highgate and then Michael ditches us. Al & Louise take me back to their fantastic new house (the size-to-weekly-rent amount has me insanely jealous and ready to move to N8 tomorrow) in their new car and then we move on to a place they’ve circled in the Time Out Food & Drink Guide.

The Arrival: We are flummoxed by the parking situation. There are many spots, but you are not allowed to park in any of them.  A local tells us we will be clamped. So we move the car again and then again. The restaurant tells us not to park there. So we move the car–again–and we hope for the best.

The Pumphouse is very interesting on the inside–it reminds me a little of Bibendum downstairs. This building was obviously something else at some point, and they’ve done a nice job of making it into a restaurant but keeping a lot of the original features. (Lots of pulleys.)

The Service: Is nice, but a bit off. We place our orders and then have to place our orders again because certain items aren’t available. And then the server returns (about 30 minutes after original order being placed) and tells us that the Chef has burned the pork belly and it was the last one and did we want to order something else.

During all of this, one table after another is being served. We are very unlucky as well as hungry, and I have lost confidence in the pork-belly-burning-chef.

The Food: I have the halibut and it is okay. It’s a bit dry, probably because it’s been under the heat lamps for a very long time. Al eventually ends up with the steak and he seems to like it, either that or he was really hungry. Louise has the duck and it looks lovely. So there are some saving graces.

The Dessert: I get talked into Saffron ice cream and it’s like eating sandpaper. Uggh.

The Loos: Co-ed! Kinda fun. I liked them.

The Verdict: I am sure this is a nice place and that many people like it. It just wasn’t for me.     

The post English Modern: The Pumphouse first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Monday, March 12, 2007

The Victim: Howard

The Damage: Unknown. Howard paid.

The Background: You may know that I am obsessed with Scandinavian furniture. If it’s Danish, sign me up. So I was excited after stopping into Marimekko the other weekend–there was an Alvar Aalto show at The Barbican. (Alvar was Finnish, not Danish though. Just for the record.) 

See but then I remember that I’m not good in museums. And pictures are nice but furniture is even better.

So I am slightly disappointed in the exhibit because THERE JUST AREN’T ENOUGH CHAIRS.

But I get over it. Because…

The Entrance: We go St. John. I have always wanted to go to St. John. But I thought that only rich people went there. Rich people who eat tripe. (Who have obviously never met my Chinese friends.) But St. John has a bar. Anyone can go there. Particularly on a Monday night. I am intrigued. The people watching is fantastic. So too the service. (More in a bit.)

The Food: It is simple, but then again, so am I. There is a green salad. And some terrine. (For me.) And some welsh rarebit (for Howard). And as it turns out…welsh rarebit is not just cheese and toast like I thought! It is cheese and toast and MUSTARD. (This is still very less more exciting than the toast and rabbit I thought it once was.) I want to tell the story about my mother and the Carlo Rossi and the tuna fish but I don’t. So instead I eat cartilage. In the form of pig’s ears. And they are delicious.

The Drink: I say that I might want the cheese plate and a glass of wine and I ask what the server recommends. She asks if I trust her. And because she has said just that, I do trust her. Immensely. She brings me some wine and I have a Deja Vu experience. I know I am in Paris. But yet I know I’m not. The wine is called St. Loup (I think–there’s a Loup in there somewhere) and it is perfect.

The Cheese: Fantastic.

The Loos: A downer, totally! I am in the toilets at St. Frances de Chantal Elementary. But it is not that nice.

The Verdict: Perfectly basic and so much more approachable than I ever thought possible. I will be back. Many times over.

The post Famous: St. John first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Wednesday, 14 Feb 2007

The Victim: Howard

The Damage: £80ish for me.

The Background: I had done something to make Howard just the tiniest bit upset with me. He felt unloved and no one should feel like that on Valentine’s Day. So we agreed to meet up for a drink and a show and maybe a meal. I suggested Pizza Express. 🙂

The Approach: After 15 minutes of head-banging at The Water Rat, we wisely decided to head out for some sustenance. It was a little late, so I was thinking a kebab or some chips or maybe a curry or maybe even a little late-night dim sum.

I managed to forget somehow that Howard is a foodie, so we weren’t talking Best Kebab or duck pancakes.

We were talking five course tasting menu at a restaurant that specializes in environmentally sustainable cuisine and giving back to the community.

£90 with wine. £68 without.

And it was Valentine’s Day, so this wasn’t just any five course tasting menu. We (well, THEY, actually) were talking one dish after another all centered around the big day.

The Crowd: Howard said I seemed obsessed by the fact that all the men had the outside seat and all the women had the bench seat. I purposefully bucked the trend and took the outside seat. Howard made me feel better about being a modern woman by noting he preferred the inside seat.

The Food: It was nice. The beet soup was really nice–points to Howard for remembering that beets are not my favorite thing. As long as I can’t see the beets, I’m fine. (I feel the same about tomatoes. Like ketchup, hate big slices of raw tomatoes.) The salad was okay. It had quince in it; I’m not sure how I feel about quince. The lobster risotto was like rice with lobster in it, proving to myself once again that risotto is just rice. Until someone proves me wrong. The scallop dish was nice, but just a little bit on the salty side for me.

The Wine: I kept trying to prove to Howard that my wine was colder than his. I finally figured it out the next morning–they served me larger portions of wine because I went by-the-glass. So my wine kept the chill probably a little longer than his. I was really sad because I do love tasting menus with wine. The problem was that it was a Wednesday, and I needed to be very productive the next day.

The Best Part: The ginger cake! It was fantastic. I do love ginger.

The Verdict: Loved the concept. Thought the food was nice and the service was friendly too. I would be open to a return visit.

The post Eco-Friendly: Acorn House first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Friday, January 12th, 2007

The Victims: Mark, Jeff

The Damage: £47 each, with one cocktail and one dessert wine each.

The Background: Mark moved to London a few months ago…funny how life works…one day, you’re hanging out at the local Starbucks every night until 2 or 3 in the morning, valuing a Swedish mattress company, and then next thing you know, you’re both working for the same company, and in a foreign country no less. Jeff is another one of our classmates, and being as Mark is a bachelor these few weeks, dinner was on order. I have been dying to try Hawskmoor forever, and being City folk, it was a convenient local option.

The Entrance: Totally not what I expected. Hawksmoor is casual, but not. But then again, it is. I had white tablecloths in my head, and there were none to be had. I was glad.

The Cocktails: We were immediately approached for cocktails, and our server did a really nice job of explaining a couple of them–I fell for the one with champagne and strawberries, but sadly cannot remember the rest of the ingredients. Our server faltered a little on Jeff’s request for something fruity with rum in it, but the resultant mix (chosen by the bartender) was fantastic and I was jealous. Now here’s the rub…I can be very patient when I really want to, particularly when I’m having a nice time like I was on Friday night in such good company. And I understand that cocktails can take forever to make.

Well, we waited, and we waited, and we waited. And neither our drinks nor our server were anywhere in my line of sight. Finally, I took myself up to the bar and noted that we had ordered our drinks ages and ages ago, but none had arrived. Apparently, I was talking to the barback, because he just looked at me and said nothing and continued cleaning his glasses. (I didn’t know he was "just" the barback.) The other gentleman took notice and promised to send the drinks over right away, and he did, but I was still a little miffed. I forgot this soon enough, but not really.

The Starters: We split orders of ribs and three jumbo shrimps (casings and all–2007 is they year I learn how to work for my food). Good stuff. The size of the portions don’t really lend themselves to sharing unless you are a very small and dainty person (which I am not). Zum Beispiel, the normal order of shrimp was two to a plate. We bumped it up to three.

The Mains: I wanted the hanger steak, but it’s only served rare, and I wasn’t sure I could do that. I like a little blood, but not so much. So I went with the rump, medium rare. It was really really nice. All of the meat at Hawksmoor comes from The Ginger Pig at Borough (do they have a Web site, anyone?) and it’s pretty suberb. Nicer still were the sides of triple-cooked chips and most particularly, the macaroni and cheese–it was really excellent Really. The creamed spinach was okay–mostly because I missed the separate bowl of cream they delivered to the table, so I ate my spinach creamless.

The End: We ordered some dessert wine, which they were out of, but the server–the same server who neglected our cocktails–redeemed himself by bringing over a 1/2 bottle of something orange. (As you can guess, this very limited description is exactly why I am not a professional. All I can remember is that it was orange and it was a dessert wine. Nothing else. Schade.) We went for all the ice cream on the menu–the sundae and also the apple tarte–and had a very enjoyable ending to a very tasty meal.

The Loos: Could use a woman’s touch. I was disappointed in the design and the cleanliness. They can do better. Much.

The Verdict: Despite the service mess up with the cocktails, I would definitely go back. Great atmosphere, great food.   

The post Finally: Hawksmoor first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, 22 October 2006

The Victims: Al, Michael, Trudie

The Background: A while back, I read this review in The Independent about The Ambassador and I have been dying to go ever since. That, combined with being shut out of every gastro in EC1 and N1 for Sunday lunch led to the ultimate fulfilment of my long-held desire. The day had finally arrived.

The Arrival: I was 5 minutes early. Even when I try to be late, I’m on time!!! I was met at the door by a very nice gentleman who let me pick my table, and also let me borrow a newspaper. I enjoyed a very good coffee and an article on binge drinking while I waited on my compatriots. Nice touch: there was kiddie stuff on the newspaper table.

The Drinks: The wine list was really really nice. Thoughtful. I had something from Alsace, because that’s apparently where my maternal grandfather is from. Resolution: Be better about remembering the wine that I drink. Anyhow, the by-the-glass-options were great. Al had a new world red and we were content inside on a rainy rainy day. The only thing that could have made it better was music.

The Tap Water Test: A jug! A whole jug. Passed.

The Mains: Well Michael and Trudie finally arrived and our orders were placed. I had the fish stew, Al the lamb (much praised by our server), Michael the sausage sandwich, and Trudie the salmon. Michael won–that sausage sandwich looked really good. The bread was toasted to perfection. It was gorgeous. I had my camera but I am still uneasy about this taking-pictures-of-other-people’s-food thing. You must trust me on this one. How lovely it was, all in it’s sausage-y wonderfulness. Perfection. My fish stew was not so much a stew as some mussels and some salmon and some white fish (halibut? I am not certain.) in a tiny bit of carrot soup. Oh, and some carrots. It was nice. Very modern. But on such a drizzly day, I would have loved something more warm and comforting.

The Decor: No frills. Honestly, it was not very exciting. But maybe that’s the point.

The Service: Really nice. Really friendly. They have good people.

The Ladies’: God this country takes the term "water closet" way too seriously.

The Verdict: I did like it. I didn’t dislike it. The wine list was great, and my food was really good. But I don’t think I would rush to go back or overly recommend it to friends.  I wanted to like it more.

The post Nice Brunch: The Ambassador first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: 23 September 2006

The Victim: Kellie

The Damage: 3.50

The Counterbalance: 3.2 miles!!!

The Background: Kellie and I kicked ass in a 5k this morning. It was the London Tree-athlon. This was funny because everyone thought we were doing a Tri-athlon, but although we’re rock stars, we’re not that much. We were all the way over by Albert Bridge (one of my fave bridge’s at night.) Schau…

Anyhow, it wasn’t night. And we only walked across the Albert Bridge. And I only borrowed this photo from Flickr. But the point is, when an East London Girl is over on that side of town, she must linger. So wearing our race medals proudly around our necks, we made our way down the King’s Road.

And Then What Happened?: Well, we were hungry. And it was still pretty early. So we were walking down the King’s Road NOT wearing fantastic sunglasses, and stumbled across this little food market by Partridges. I introduced Kellie to the American Section–American Cheerios for 7.50, anyone? And then she bought some Mustard Gouda. It was delicious.

I saw the Pie Minister. And I thought to myself, Pie for lunch! Now that would be nice. See, I’ve been thinking about Pie’s a lot because my friends Nate & Kelly are set to arrive in London any day now, and Nate is really into Pies. In fact, he’s talked about opening a pie shop in Chicago. So I’ve been compiling lists of pie places to stop at. And Pie Minister is one of them. So I bought one–the matador, which was beef and chorizo.

And Then What?: Well, then I had to get home. So I made it all the way back, popped my pie in the oven (180 degrees for 20 minutes) and took a shower to wash away the 5K. My flat smells so good right now, it’s not even funny. (Because of the pie–not the shower.) 20 minutes later, I took out my pie and gobbled it all up. I probably ate it too fast. I did not savor it. And this makes me sad because I kinda feel like I need to get another one so I can truly eat slowly. I have just finished my pie as I write this.

The Verdict: Cheap thrills. Do it.  That being said, the Matador was supposed to have beef AND chorizo in it and I didn’t see any chorizo. But that didn’t detract from the tastiness.

The post Pies: Pieminister first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, September 17

The Victims: Michael, Alan

The Damage: 30 quid more a head than I had been planning on spending

The Counterbalance: 3.0 miles!

The Background: Oh, I haven’t seen Michael for ages. See, he went off to Australia for a few months to take care of some things. I missed him! Michael is one of the smartest, nicest guys I know. So I was very happy that he was back in town and wanted to met up for brunch.

He probably wasn’t very happy that I made him leave Chiswick, but sucks to be him! He came all the way to my side of town, and we met up at Roast. Now I chose Roast because I had read that Wills and Kate had lunched at Roast; I am a huge dork. I should have known that princely food comes at a princely sum. But it was worth every penny! Uh, I mean pence.

The Food: Oh I get so ahead of myself! Michael and I started with the sardines and they were deliciously sardine-y, if there is such a thing. Who knew sardines could be so so good? Well, actually, I did know that. But Roast just reminded me of that ever the more so.

I went with the beef and yorkshire pud for my main. Alan had the same. I do not remember what Michael had, but I remember that the light through the windows was so bright and sun-shiney but not in an annoying way. We enjoyed a bottle of tempernillo and Michael had a little local wheat beer. We were happy. And I learned A LOT about Armenia. A country of 3 million people, but a diaspora of 11 million! And apparently all in California. Who knew?

And then the dessert came. I did not want dessert, but Michael ordered the ginger cake so Alan and I ordered the edelflower mousse and it was so poetically beautiful to eat I cannot even describe it. It was beyond good. It was lovely.

The Verdict: Go and go again. Bring your parents and your grandparents on the weekends, and your business guests during the week. But watch the wallet.

The post Meat: Roast first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Tuesday September 12, 2006

The Vicitms: Too many to mention

The Damage: Unknown. Business dinner.

The Counterbalance: None that day. But 2.85 miles the day before.

The Background: I had read in Olive, the BBC food magazine, about the new Hoxton Hotel. This particular part of town is a bit low on hotels, aside from the Holiday Inn Express at Old Street (uggh) and the super pricey Great Eastern Hotel by Liverpool Street. So it’s a welcome addition to the hood. Anyhow, I needed to organize a last minute dinner for 13 people, never easy. No one, as usual, would take us. But the new Hoxton Grille in the Hoxton Hotel said sure, come on over. (That being said, they did that little reservation dance with me…7 p.m.? No, we can’t do 7. We could do 7:15 though. We got there and it was pretty empty. They totally could have taken us at 7.)

The Service: Our server was really friendly and nice and gave us some great recs on the menu and the wine list. But then he disappeared, never to be seen again. That being said, the woman who took his place was quite charming and helpful and friendly too. In between though, the friendly guy forgot our olives, and our wine sat on the bar forever before anyone brought it to us.

Litle Known Fact: The Hoxton is owned by the guy that owns Pret a Manger!

The Food: I had the melon and prociutto starter and it was perfect. They had drizzled something on it that made it extra special. I wish I knew what it was. For my main, I had the salmon fishcakes, which were also quite nice.

The Drinks: I thought the wine list was nicely varied and decently priced. Also, I loved how at the hotel check-in desk, they had convenience store fridge where you could buy soda, wine, beer, etc. at decent prices, not hotel-rip-off-prices.

The Verdict: I’ve spent a lot of time in hotel bars and restaurants. While they Hoxton Grille won’t win any prizes for the decor in the restaurant (I thought the lobby decor was cool), the food will keep them coming back for more. Also–I was really impressed with how cheap the breakfast menu was (must be The Pret connection), so I would definitely come back here for a business breakfast.

The post Great Hotel Food: The Hoxton Grille first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Sometime in February. On a Wednesday.

Victims: Too many to mention!

The Damage: Unknown!

We had many people in from many countries. And they all needed to be fed. It was a Wednesday night, so the odds were in our favor, but five restaurants later, no one would take a party of approximately 30, give or take a few.

But then–I thought of our 2004 Christmas Party! At Home Bar! It was perfect. Just the right amount of space. I called. I asked. They obliged, and my work was done. Almost.

Being the sneaky person I am, I told everyone the booking was for 7. It was really for 7:30. But when you’re dealing with 30+ people, it’s likely that over half will be late, which sucks totally if you’re in charge of everything and your bedtime is roughly 10 p.m. (Don’t laugh. It’s true. And I like to think it’s why I’m (perhaps very) relatively productive.)

Anyhow, I digress as always. We had some cocktails in the basement, which was nice. And then we headed up to our table. Being the good girl that I am, I declined the foie gras. I went with the gnudi instead–which well, couldn’t stop me from thinking about Gary Gnu–but the gnudi was gnocchi and it was delicious. Loved it. Why is gnocchi so good??? And why does Home Bar call it gnudi?

For my main, I went with the peppered tuna steak, which was good. Not great, but good. It was better than anything I could make (although that’s not saying much!)

For my dessert, I had the Banana tarte tatin and it was fantastic! Very satisfying. Extremely satisfying. Dare I say best part of the meal? Perhaps!

Love the co-ed toilets!

All this for just 27 quid a person–before drinks. Not so bad!

The Verdict: Well, I like Home Bar. It’s dependable and reliable. I wouldn’t seek it out though. It needs something else. I can’t put my finger on it. But maybe a little facelift? Just a tiny one?

The post Places Kinda Like Home: Home Bar first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.