The excellent leek tart at The Gate in Islington

In the nearly prehistoric early days of my blog, there were no freebies, no invites to review, no Twitter or Snapchat or Instagram. There were no readers either, but I still enjoyed putting my words out there for no one else but me to enjoy. Maybe occasionally my investment banker friends (and frequent dining companions) liked to read my words,. (And my mother, to reassure herself that I was still alive.) My banker friends were perhaps smarter than me all these years ago and would often tell waitstaff at restaurants that I was a “famous” food critic. I would shrink in my seat, mortified to my soul, as they said so. I just liked to write for myself, really. So I wrote for myself and kept myself anonymous and no one really knew who was I was for a while, but then a certain UK journalist told all of England that I wanted to quit my job to become a professional food critic — I’m 5 trillion percent confident I never said that and please can you imagine the conversation when I went into the office on Monday — and then the invites to review starting coming, and I said no and no and no again. (There is no free lunch really.) Then this one time in 2009 I said yes and it was all very nice but I wrote about my conflicting feels and well…

I returned to London in 2014 with a new “Just say yes” attitude. There were a lot of reasons for this new mindset, best discussed over cocktails and copious carbohydrates and having nothing to do with my blog really but more to do with being a slave to The Man for so long and not having much fun while I was back in Chicago, really. I was determined to have more fun in London now that I was back. So I started saying yes. I thought saying yes would mean fun!

When The Gate emailed me earlier this spring, this “Just say yes” mindset led me to say yes but it was hard to find a date for anyone to come along because, well, I am still a slave to The Man and The Man pays my bills and I like money, you know. (Even though I try to like money less than I once did, I still like it.) The PR was dogged. She did not give up, although I was ready to and in fact had so in my mind because after so many emails with so many people about so many dates and times and vegetarian food and yes, Angel was still on the Northern Line, I decided that maybe we should all just Netflix and Chill instead.

But! Miracle of miracles! I finally found a night without conference calls with the west coast or other incidents that prevent work/life balance. And I owed A Girl Has to Eat an invite after the many kind invites she had extended to me. We were also long overdue a catch-up about work and life and balance. (And yoga.)

I like the location of The Gate, just down the hill from Angel and up the hill from Roseberry Avenue. The restaurant was buzzing with the pre-Sadler’s Wells Theatre crowd when I entered but as soon as I sat down, they all stood up and headed off to their show. Now that’s great timing! A Girl Has to Eat arrived shortly later and we went to town on the menu.

We started with some excellent focaccia and olives. I really wanted more of the focaccia but also didn’t want to ruin my dinner.

We then split starters of miso aubergine and slow roasted leek tart. The miso aubergine topped with toasted cashew nuts, micro coriander and ponzu sauce was fresh and summery, but it was the leek tart — with swiss cheese, sweet balsamic dressing, sprouting lentils and raw beetroot salad — that I really loved. I could easily eat this leek tart every day of the week. The pastry was particularly excellent.

This is a terrible photo of the mushroom chipotle because all you can see is rocket. I’m sorry.

For mains, I opted for the wild mushroom chipotle, a mix of foraged wild mushrooms, sauteed in a rich chipotle and sour cream sauce on a bed of braised wild rice and rocket. I am not a huge mushroom eater but the magic word “chipotle” pulled me in and I was glad that it did. What’s so strange about The Gate is that you are eating vegetarian food but you totally forget that you are! It’s like they weave a magic spell over you when you enter: Forget meat! Forget meat! Mushrooms are meat!

The tasty sweetcorn cakes

A Girl Has to Eat opted for the Sweetcorn Cilantro Cake, served with a black bean, roast pepper and grilled corn on the cob salsa, topped with char-grilled Mediterranean vegetables and chunky guacamole. I had a bite and had food envy, even though I was perfect satisfied with my main!

Service was prompt and friendly during our visit, although our dessert took a very, very long time to arrive. Also, one of the women at the table next to us would not stop talking and SINGING during our meal and it was so distracting and annoying that I really couldn’t even enjoy the much delayed dessert and finally just said to A Girl Has to Eat, “I gotta get outta here” and fled out into the street, which was blissfully quiet and calm in comparison. Ah, also while we were at The Gate, one of the toilets overflowed. Good times. (Signs in the ladies’ loo warn you about the sensitive toilets.)

The Verdict: I really, really like The Gate. Great food, and you leave feeling virtuous and like your cholesterol is lower! It’s amazing. That being said, I think I am done saying yes to invites for review for a while. This blog has always been a hobby and a way to pass the time, and the economist in me understands that there really is no free lunch. My job keeps me busy — too busy at this time of year, and I enjoy my site more when I write what I want to write when I have the (admittedly limited) time to write it. If you can tell by the lack of posts as of late, now is not the time when I have time. So things will go back to the way they sort of were at some point before I lost my penchant for my own discoveries, and I’ll say no to invites to review more often. (But yes to events because I like events. I really really like events.) It was a worthy experiment, but it’s time is over. After, uh, I get a few more of these invites to review posts out of the way first. 🙁 Sigh.

Note: I was invited to dine at The Gate with a guest. We did not have to pay for anything. I tipped on the full amount, if not a little more, and handed the cash directly to our server. 

The post The Gate, Islington first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

London’s Upper Street used to be full of bright young things in skinny trousers.

Now it’s full of prams.

So in 2016 Bellanger makes sense for the neighborhood. But for the love of God, how are they covering their expenses?

I can only imagine what the rent is. And while the service is very officious, the staff are as numerous as my credit cards. The Bellanger comes to us from the Corbin & King people…the same people that do The Wolseley and The Delauney and Zedel so the staff are everywhere. Not always productively so though — there was a lot of chatting go on during my visit. Imagine me trying to get my bill, unsuccessfully, forever and forever.

£17 for two courses at a place like The Bellanger is a very good lunchtime value though. I liked my beetroot smoked salmon starter as well as my extremely generously sized Baeckeoffe. Also, I enjoyed uh, an entire baguette on my own and all the butter. (Hey, I had skipped dinner the night before and breakfast too!)

I do not understand the Alice in Wonderland ladies’ loo though.

The Verdict: I will gladly go again and I will only use the first or second door in the ladies and I WILL get the schnitzel. Because that’s what I really wanted but it was more expensive than the lunch special so I didn’t.

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I’ll admit it. I’m a sucker. And I believe what I read on the internet. After a gushing post about Little Viet Kitchen over on The Londoner, I put this new bijou Vietnamese on my list. My plan was to enjoy a leisurely lunch there yesterday but well — I actually went to the gym yesterday — so I was running at bit behind. By the time I got to Little Viet Kitchen, it was 1 pm and I had a conference call at 2 pm. It would have to be takeaway.

I eat a lot of Vietnamese food in London. I like Vietnamese food. I like trying new restaurants. These things should all be clear to the most loyal of my readers. I also make a good living, so I don’t mind spending money.

But I do mind getting ripped off. No matter how cute the restaurant is or how sweet the staff are.

Because Little Viet Kitchen is VERY cute. It’s all shabby chic inside and cozy and sweet. And the staff were hospitable and welcome and brought me a lovely jar of tap water with cucumber and lemon while I waited for me food. I LIKED IT. I was very happy with everything at Little Viet Kitchen for a while there.

And then I asked for my bill. And my beef bun (Vietnamese rice noodles with salad, beef wrapped in betel leaf, and two spring rolls) was £16.50. I was embarrassed. I was stunned into silence. I should have said something, but at that point, I had already placed my order, sat at their table, and drank their delicious cucumber water. How had I missed the price on the menu? Why had I not paid closer attention? The number was right there in front of me. I’m an idiot. And now I’m a poor idiot.

£16.50!!! For the love of God. In CHAPEL MARKET.

Granted, my food was tasty enough. But it was not £16.50 worth of tasty.

If you want some bun, you can get some at Song Que on Kingsland Road for £9.50, although they may not have beef.  Ngon Ngon in Clerkenwell does beef bun for £8.50. Both places are definitely not as cute — and in fact, you may get yelled at by the staff at Song Que — but they deliver good, tasty value for money.

The Verdict: Little Viet Kitchen is cute and tasty, but not THAT cute and tasty. Head to Kingsland Road instead.

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Sometimes, I wake up in the morning and say to myself, “I wish I could have Chinese food for breakfast.” I consider heading to Chinatown to see what’s open. I know Royal China on Baker Street opens at 11 am on Sundays but that is too late.

Enter Chinese Laundry on Upper Street! They will be open from 8:30 am during the week! And they’ll serve Chinese breakfast! Like Chinese pancakes. And buns! This seems like the answer to my prayers, but yet…only MY prayers. Will other people want to eat Chinese pancakes so early in the day? (Particularly the denizens of Islington?) I am not so sure. I would love to see the market sizing on this one.

Right now, the restaurant is in soft launch mode, and the only thing they are serving is all day Chinese breakfast. If I were a real restaurant critic, I would not write about a restaurant in soft launch mode. But I’m not a real restaurant critic am I? So there you go. I dropped in at 12 on a Thursday and despite many people staring at the menu in the window, I was the only one in the place. I had a pleasant table looking out onto Upper Street (and all the people staring in the window) and guess what? I had the Chinese pancake. And a pork belly baozi, which was absolutely huge and a little too bready for me. But the Chinese pancake was delicious and whoever fried that egg knew what they were doing.

I like the idea of Chinese Laundry, and I like the kitschy decor. I’m just not so sure other people will like the idea of Chinese Laundry. I guess that means more Chinese food for breakfast for me, but I hope I am not their only customer.

The Service: Sweet and helpful throughout.

The Verdict; Thumbs up on the Chinese pancake.

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Pizza Vesuvio

The Kings X entrance I have never been to before!

Dolce

Inside Pizza Union Kings X

Pizza Stagione

Corn Nuts!

Dolce

The Superfast Oven

I have been eating a lot of pizza lately. Maybe it’s because of my recent New York trip. (More about that soon, I promise.) I ate a lot of pizza in New York and well, I came back to London and was still in the zone and just couldn’t stop eating anything sauce-y and cheese-y.

Pizza Union totally delivers. On a crazily rainy afternoon the other week, we scarfed down two piping hot pizzas — one Vesuvio (pepperoni, green chillies, cracked chillies) and one Stagioni (cotto ham, pepperoni, mushrooms, artichokes, black olives) — in the blink of an eye. And I mean blink because Pizza Union is not kidding when they say these are “superfast” pizzas. There were pretty much no minutes between placing our order and being served. Maybe five minutes, max?? We washed our delight down with the house red wine that we affectionately called “pizza wine” because, well, it was a very good pizza wine.

Americans amongst you will laugh when you are handed one of those “Your table is ready” devices which will blink and buzz when it’s your turn to head up to the front and pick up your pizza. That’s part of how Pizza Union does this so fast. You place your order at the till, get your device and find a seat. (When we were there at lunchtime on a Friday, the place was PACKED. By 2:30 pm, it had emptied out.) The staff are seriously cranking out pizzas like there is no tomorrow so it won’t be long before your buzzer is a-blinkin’.

A Pizza Margherita at Pizza Union goes for an astonishing value price of £3.95. The Vesuvio, £5.50 and the Stagione £6.50. How they keep prices so low, I don’t understand!! Either rent is cheap or they do so much in volume that it all sort of works itself out.

During our stay, we also enjoyed some corn nuts, a verdura salad and some crazy delicious desserts that I cannot even explain. Deep fried rings of deliciousness stuffed with caramel and nutella, covered in cocoa. Messy but delicious.

We really enjoyed our time at Pizza Union. It’s buzzy and fun and well, a terrific good value. Staff during our visit were super friendly and nice. It’s a student-y type of place bound to be popular with the kids. But it will be popular with me as well.

The Verdict: Fun for the entire family.

I was a guest of Pizza Union and invited Denise along.

The post Pizza Union, Kings Cross first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

This blog has brought me many good things, including many good friends who share a common interest in good food. One of those friends is Alice from American in London, and while she hasn’t blogged in a long long time, I still hit her up for advice and pay attention to where she is going and what she is eating thanks to the magic of Facebook. She has added Tonkatsu East to my list, and she is the one who first flagged the opening of Beyrouths on Upper Street to me.

In my dreams, I marry a Lebanese man. I love Lebanese food. I think it has something to do with a Lebanese restaurant in Chicago that I used to walk by all the time that always looked so cozy. (Maza, which used to be on Lincoln in a nice little spot south of Belmont, but moved a few years back to a creepy bit of Ashland, just north of Fullerton.) When I finally dropped in for dinner at Maza one night, I fell in love with Lebanese food, something I had never had before.

So on a random day off in November, I wandered up Upper Street, in search of this mysterious new Lebanese place. I didn’t even know the name of it at the time so it was nearly a fool’s errand. The Internet wasn’t helping much either — I had to work really hard to find “new Lebanese restaurant Upper Street.” But finally I did and found myself sitting in a nearly empty restaurant…there was only one other table of diners besides me, on my own.

I ordered the lunch plate for £12 because it seemed like a good value and it had a little bit of everything. Some shwarma, some hummus, some spicy Lebanese potatoes…and some tabbouleh, which truth be told, I really don’t like at all. Everything arrived perfectly presented, along with a generous serving of thin Lebanese bread. I went to town, particularly on the potatoes, which were particularly delicious. Everything was quite enjoyable actually, until I got the bill and realized the lunch platter I had demolished — the now empty lunch platter, except for the tabbouleh — was meant to be a  sharing plate…for two.

The Verdict: I liked it here. I’ll go back…and order that sharing plate again…only this time, I will share it with someone. Maybe Alice! I also liked the industrial chic vibe. Although the stairs look a bit scary…too scary to check out the loo.

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

The Getaway, London

Everyone’s been telling me “You should watch that new show Getaway Esquire show. Anthony Bourdain has something to do with it. They just did a London episode. Quincy Jones’ daughter is in it. You’ll love it. She goes to some cool places.” And I did love The Getaway, London. Rashida Jones has excellent taste. (Although you know how I feel about The Dean Street Townhouse now.) Here’s a clip of her at one of my old locals, 69 Colebrooke Row. Bryan and Stacey, if you’re reading this, I miss you. xoxo.

Buy Episodes of The Getaway

The Getaway is a TV travel program that debuted on Esquire. It is now on Amazon! US readers can purchase full episodes here. Season 1 is on US iTunes. Season 2 too.

Oh and by the way, I did get away to London recently! It was amazing, as always.

Fun Tours of London

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I moved into the compact but efficient Zetter in Clerkenwell for five nights. This made me more than a little teary-eyed because I was staying just a few blocks away from my old flat, a flat I lived in for over five years. Amazing how quickly London has changed in the short period I’ve been away.

I liked The Zetter. But the rooms are VERY small. (If you need to stay in this general area, The Hoxton is a bit more spacious.) The Zetter staff were lovely though and the bath products (Ren) were much much better than The Hoxton’s. (The Hoxton is generally cheaper than The Zetter though.) In short, if I could swing it, I might stay here again. But I think The Hoxton might still win out.

Here’s where I ate and drank…

Salvation Jane, 55 City Road, Shoreditch/City. I was glad to see something useful had finally gone into this strip of City Road. Let’s hope Salvation Jane lasts because the Indian street food place didn’t last long (and there were a lot of bailiffs involved) and then there was that Thai place that was all quite dark and scary and they were always rehabbing the toilets. We had some good coffees at Salvation Jane though, and the service was nice and overall, I like the vibe. The Verdict: Recommended for coffee talk.

The Old Fountain, 3 Baldwin Street, Shoreditch: I returned to one of my favorite pubs in London, The Old Fountain, with my friends Gerry & Ben. It was ridiculously different. There were no old men, the carpet had been replaced, and it had been entirely repainted and refurbished. I appreciate gentrification, but I was still a bit sad. That being said, the beer selection was ace and the rooftop was lovely. The Verdict: Recommended if you’re in the area and want to have some beers in a quiet place.

St. John, 145-57 St. John Street, Clerkenwell. I couldn’t not stop into the bar at St. John for some drinks and snacks. Eccles cake and Lancashire cheese for the win! The Verdict: GO.

Hoxton Beach: Whitecross Street Market, Barbican. You can’t see what’s in there, but it’s the most delicious falafel wrap EVER. I love these guys. I dream about them. And their pickled vegetables. Get a falafel wrap (this is the small) from Hoxton Beach and then head on over to the Two Brewers down by Waitrose for a cheeky pint. The Two Brewers lets you bring in food from the market. Genius idea. The Verdict: Yes to Hoxton Beach!

Grab Thai, 5 Leonard Street, Shoreditch: I think I’ve written about these guys before. Incredibly inexpensive, incredibly delicious. I normally stick to the green chicken curry for lunch. Good times: The Verdict: Cheap and filling and very good lunch. GO.

Tramshed, 32 Rivington Street, Shoreditch. (If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m an East London girl.) I really enjoyed my steak and chips. Couldn’t really complain. I also liked the design of the place and all the tilework. (It’s a Mark Hix place, btw.) Not sure how I felt about Damien Hirst’s preserved cow, but luckily, it’s high enough above the dining room that you don’t have to look at it while you’re eating. The Verdict: Very good.

10 Greek Street, 10 Greek Street, Soho. I’m somewhere in between on 10 Greek Street. I like the idea of the place and I like that it’s small and I thought all our servers were lovely but try sitting on a bar stool where a creepy man is pressing his sweaty back up against yours repeatedly for 45 minutes and, well, you might just end up feeling a bit UNWELL about everything. The food was very nice, but I drank a lot of white wine to get over my feelings of violation, so I am no good judge. The Verdict: I need to go back. (Talk about the beauty of natural light for photos, huh?)

Pitt Cue Co., 1 Newburgh Street. Somehow, during all my wanderings around Soho, I’ve never managed to make it down Newburgh Street. But here I was, hanging out on a street corner, 15 minutes before Pitt Cue opened. I think I might have fallen in love with one of the proprietors while I was waiting. Sigh. I meant to order the pulled pork bun but got the pulled pork meal instead (with a side of baked beans), but it really didn’t matter because it was all pretty excellent. And only 11 quid. The Verdict: GO. But don’t show up with 12 people. They are super super tiny.

The Gate, 370 St. John Street, Clerkenwell. So here’s my first question…when you KNOW you are going to open a restaurant on St. John Street, WHY do you give it the same name as a  BAR further down on St. John Street? Confusing. Then, when I enter your restaurant, why do you ignore me? And then when you finally take my drink order, why do you walk away in the middle of my conversation? And then when you come to take my order, why do you tell me not to order anything on the menu because it is all going to take a really long time? And then when you come to ask “How is everything?,” why do you walk away before I can even answer??? My dining experience at The Gate is worth a short story of its own. I think you get the gist. They are CRAZY. The weird thing? My asparagus rotolo was weirdly EXCELLENT. The Verdict: I’m afraid to send you here. But the food is really good. (Note entirely vegetarian.)

While I was in town, I also saw the Damien Hirst exhibition at the Tate Modern, which was quite affecting. I’d recommend it. I’m still thinking about it, a week or two later, and I think that’s what art is all about. I also saw the Christian Louboutin exhibit at the Design Museum, and while it’s nice to look at shoes, the exhibit didn’t give you much context about the artist, which was disappointing. There were also a lot of screaming 10 year olds. Who takes 10 year olds to a French shoe exhibit? Odd.

I’ve been thinking lately about trying to get back to London more often. Let me know if anyone is interested in an intermittent flatmate. 😉

P.S. I’m realizing after posting this that I didn’t include Sedap on Old Street or The Modern Pantry on Clerkenwell Road. I revisited both. I still highly recommend Sedap, but I wasn’t too impressed with my watery omelet at The Modern Pantry, unfortunately.

The post The Return to London, Second Part first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Tenshi
61 Upper Street
 N1 0NY

Date of Last Visit: January 17th, 2009

The Victim: Me

The Damage: £15

The Background: You have to imagine me, sitting in my flat on a Sunday afternoon thinking, "I really want sushi." But it's Sunday. Pham is closed on Sundays. And I don't want to get on the tube. Why why why is there no sushi in Islington???

Well there is now. Thanks to Tenshi. And I'm pretty happy about it.

I liked Tenshi's spicy tuna rolls. Nothing special. Just honest.

 
Service is prompt and efficient, or at least it was when I was there. The atmosphere is VERY basic. This is really more of a take-out place. The good news about that, though, is they'll be open ALL the time. (I hope.) Not just from 12 to 3 p.m. and then 6 to 10 p.m. like Sasa Sushi down the road. So if you want sushi in Islington, you can have sushi whenever you want.

 
You can also have chicken katsu whenever you want, and this was a fine example. I'd eat it again. Good panko crust. I still like chicken katsu curry better, though.

The Verdict: (Relatively) cheap fun. Welcome to the neighborhood, Tenshi. I'm sure I'll be back many times.  

The post Tenshi, Islington first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Gallipoli Again
120 Upper Street
 N1 1QP 

Date of Last Visit: Friday, November 20th

The Victims: Too many to mention

The Damage: £20 or so each

The Background: I am almost embarrassed to tell you this. 

You see…on Friday, November 20th, I had tickets to the cinema.

For the opening night of…

New Moon.

You know…the vampire chick flick.

And so we all went out to dinner beforehand. How many of us? Um…I think there were 17. 17 30-somethings.  All out to see a teenage vampire flick.

The Entrance: So we were a little unsure which Gallipoli we were going to. And there are three of them on Upper Street. So Stacey and I went into all of them until of course, we hit the jackpot with the third.

And Gallipoli is packed! Really. My chair is getting bumped. My coat keeps falling on the floor. I am highly annoyed.

The Wine: We order some Pinot Grigio. It arrives warm. This is annoying. So I ask for a lot of ice. We get like three ice cubes. This is annoying too.

The Food: Mezze for everyone except a few. I love mezze because it's fun and communal and a surprise everytime. But at Gallipoli, the falafel tastes like sawdust. (Must write post about Hoxton Beach! Name is an oxymoron there, no?) There's not enough hummus to go around, and we have to pay extra for the aubergine. (The Turkish version of Baba Ghanoush.) I remember I liked the broad beans. And the vine leaves were okay. And as I'm having all these thoughts, people keep bumping my chair and I keep getting more annoyed. I'm tense. Very tense. And I'm tense enough as it is.

The Service: A little slow at the beginning, but eventually just fine.

The Baklava: Pretty good.

Food Verdict: Eh. Not for me. Too many people, too small a space, too average.

Film Verdict: Jacob was pretty hot. Edward was pretty pasty.

The Photos: Too dark for food photos, and I forgot my flashlight/torch.

Which Leads Me to My Question: Where's your favorite place for Turkish mezze?

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Sedir
4 Theberton St
N1 0QX

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, October 3rd, 2009

The Victims: Gerry, Ben, Matt, Carolyn, Anne, Tobias…and I feel like I'm forgetting someone.

The Background: We'd been to St. Alban's for the beer festival. Drinking beer creates hunger. So we found ourselves on Upper Street, walking from one restaurant to the next, seeing if they'd take eight people. No one would. Until finally, we entered the very empty Sedir–always a bad sign when you're empty at 8 p.m. on a Saturday–and they said "Eight? Sure, no problem."

The Smell: Sedir smells like gasoline. It takes me a while to figure this out. I start imagining that we're all going to be die from chemical inhalations. But then I realize it's the stupid lamps. The stupid lamp oil makes the whole place smell like nail polish remover or something. Uggh. Headache.

The Food: I order our server's favorite dish–the Iskender–it's grilled meatballs on a bed of diced bread & yoghurt, coated with a secret recipe sauce. When the dish arrives, I attempt to send it back, thinking that they've given me the wrong order. Because you know, my entire life? During my entire life, MEATBALLS HAVE ALWAYS BEEN ROUND.

So I eat a few pieces of meatballs (?) and have a spoonful of whatever it is that the meat is sitting on. Well, it's exactly what the menu said. Yogurt. And bread. There's a lot of meat. And a lot of yogurt. And a lot of bread. I get bored after about three  bites. And it's just so gosh darned gloopy. Gloopy is really the best way to describe it. Gloopy meat and gloopy yogurt and gloopy wet bread. No thank you.

The Verdict: Eh. Not for me.

The post Sedir, Islilngton first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

The Compass
58 Penton Street
N1 9PZ

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, September 19th, 2009

The Victims: Chris, Evelien, Al, Louise

The Damage: £50 each

The Background: There's not much background to report. Al & Louise got a sitter. Chris & Evelien got a sitter. So it was that we all went out to eat sans whippersnappers. I was coming from a party down the road at The Albion, so I was wearing very large shoes. These are the things I remember.

The Entrance: The Compass is more than a pub. It's more restaurant-y feeling. It's a nice big open room. To get to the ladies, you need to go down a long staircase. This was a bad thing for me and my shoes. I nearly died. Twice.

The Starter: Three out of five of us got the English snails to start (with garlic and parsley), and wow was this a generous portion. It was almost too many snails, because you know, after you've eaten the 8th or 10th one, you start to think about what it is you're eating. Uggh. I think I counted more than 18 snails on the plate. That's a lot of garden paraphernalia. I forget who, but at least one person at the table had never had escargot before. How have you lived???

The Main: That's my lamb there, with French beans (you can't see them) and new potatoes. (More like potato mash.) This was an EXTREMELY generous portion. I gave away half the lamb to Chris. The meat was pretty competently prepared. A great brown crust. Nice pink meat. (Although they never asked me how I wanted it done.) Ah, and the potato goodness it was all resting on was pretty delicious.

The Service: Either they are the nicest and sweetest servers in the entire world, or my cover was blown. The Compass had a large party upstairs, so our waitress apologized about 10 times for the delay in our food, and comped us the bread and olives. (Pet peeve though…I just don't think you should charge for bread. Olives, maybe. Bread, no.) Really…very attentive and pleasant. Well-done.

The Verdict: I could see myself going back here for a leisurely lunch. Or an early-in-the-week dinner.

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