Guys, why didn’t we buy flats in Elephant & Castle years ago? We’ve been mocking it all these years BUT…have you been there lately? I think I want to move there. I mean, convenient transport links, a great name, AND a new awesome Italian supermarket with a mostly Italian food court that’s open every day but Monday! Oh, for it to be 2010 again…or maybe 2008 during the financial crisis. Why didn’t I buy property then?? Why???

So yeah, if I lived in Elephant & Castle, I would live at Mercato Metropolitano. It’s like Eataly, but without the bad typography (seriously awful use of white space) and stacks and stacks of panettone.  I was about to ask when London was getting its Eataly when I found this article, that says that Mercato Metropolitano was started by one of the founders of Eataly. Oh, and that the Eataly/Selfridges deal has fallen through. So yey for Mercato Metropolitano! Long may it prosper. Maybe if we go there enough, Eataly will finally open a central London foodhall.

After a short walk from Elephant & Castle tube, I entered through MM’s grocery store, which is a long, narrowish space with seemingly no real place to check out except at the entrance. It’s like they really don’t want to take your money! Very odd. I thought for a moment that this was all Mercato Metropolitano had to offer until I made my way to the back yard and into the warehouse behind it. Oddly, a vegetarian stand, a Vietnamese stand, and an Argentinian grill greeted me. This was not what I expected. And there was no coffee…very very odd. (Although there was a little stand with a guy selling Sicilian pastries.)

I turn the corner again, and there it all it. Aha! Now I get it! There is wine and beer and fried things and cheese and more wine and paninis and all sorts of great things. There’s a stand with nothing but tuna! And they have a fat fresh big tuna with eyes so clear he (or she) must have just been plucked out of the Atlantic that morning. (Or well, have been frozen immediately two weeks ago.) They are sawing the tuna open and I peruse the menu while I watch and well, I want to eat everything but I can’t really so now I have to go back.

I order a pizza because…pizza. It’s the Pizza Fresca, which very clearly says that it has salume on it, but yet is also very clearly labeled as vegetarian. The pizza is a hot, bubbly delight although perhaps a little too much crust for my liking. I wish I had some olive oil or something because crust is just a little bleh otherwise. Also, I can confirm that pizza was definitely not vegetarian, unless laboratories worldwide have made amazingly meaty strides with tofu and seitan. It’s a very good pizza though.

I order a wondrously well-priced (5 quid) glass of white in the Enoteca, and snuggle in for a bit in the wooded Tirolean space. The seat covers are sort of like like those wooly rugs you buy at Ikea, but they will look dank and gray and matted in another three months so please, Enoteca, replace them regularly.

I take another wander around Mercato Metropolitano. I love it here. I want to come back. I will come back. It’s a great addition to London.

The Verdict: Go early and go often!

The post Mercato Metropolitano, Elephant & Castle first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Friday, July 2, 2010

The Victims: The lovely Nicole and and the lovely Liz from The Good Food Guide

The Damage: Unknown. They paid.

The Background: I've been traveling a lot lately. This has put a significant dent in my social life. Let's just say that Nicole e-mailed me in April about meeting up for lunch and the first date I could commit to was in July.

Really, my life is not that exciting.

Nicole and Liz work for Which? and specifically, The Good Food Guide. This was a nice opportunity to have lunch with some like-minded folk and talk shop. Even if it did take us three months to get together. (My fault entirely.)

The Entrance: If I were More, and if I were located across from More London–the big development of offices and shops–I would not name my restaurant More. Nicole and Liz spent ages waiting in the champagne bar across the road–also called More–until they realized they were in the wrong place. Apparently, this is not the first time that guests of More (the restaurant on Tooley Street) have been so confused.

But we all found each other eventually and settled in to enjoy our meal.

  
The Food: I ordered the pea soup to start. I swear that the menu did not mention that it was a cold pea soup. Well, it was. Have you ever had one of those Covent Garden soups out of the box without the benefit of a microwave? (Accidentally, of course.) Yes. That's how it tasted. And it was HUGE. Really, there's only so much cold pea soup a girl can take. Plus, it needed salt.

  
I had the seafood linguine as my main. Although it was relatively generous with the seafood, it was swimming in oil. I should have taken an after photo.

The Service: Took my not-empty wine glass away not once but TWICE.

The Atmosphere: I liked the design. It was clean and simple and uncluttered. And with the bar area up front, it would be a good place for the solo diner. But it was HOT. So hot. There was a patio out back, but the door remained firmly shut during our visit. I could have used some fresh air.

The Verdict: Really lovely company and conversation and a very nice afternoon out. Food just okay.

The post More, Tower Bridge first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

The post Prosecco on Tap at The Rake first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Tsuru
4 Canvey Street
SE1 9AN

Date of Last Visit: Tuesday, March 10th, 2009

The Victims: Too many to mention

The Background: Every so often, I get invited on a PR thingamajig. I'm never quite sure what to do. Because you know, I've spent (and continue to spend) a lot of time with economists and, well, there's no such thing as a free lunch.

Would you accept a free meal? Free drinks?

And if you did accept the free stuff, would you feel obligated to write a good review?

Think about it.

So, I'm invited to a sushi and wine tasting at Tsuru on the South Bank. You know I love sushi and wine, so it was really hard for me to say no.

I just hoped they wouldn't f**k it up.

The Entrance: As usual, I am one of the first ones there. Why people have to be fashionably late, I don't understand. Someone brings me a beer and Denise from The Wine Sleuth and I catch up.

Eventually, we take our seats and we're guided through six wines that Damien Tillson, the Deputy Director of Wine at Sotheby's, has selected for our meal. What I really liked most of all about the evening was when they described their markup policy on wine. It's like 30%. That's NOTHING. Restaurants in London don't do this!!! They all charge a fortune. In New York, 30% markups are the next big thing. (Based on my very small sample size.) So Tsuru is a little bit ahead of its time for a London restaurant, and for this fact alone, they earn some points in my review.

The Wine: Of the six wines we tasted, I liked these two wines the best:

Sancerre, Domaine Bailly-Reverdy, Loire France, 2007. Sauvignon Blanc. This one was vaguely peanuty, buttery, and yet still flinty.

La Tunella, Colli Orentali del Friuli, Italy, 2005. Cabernet Franc. It was green and complex and tasted of cedar wood, in the best possible way possible.

The Food: Here's the bad part. After enjoying so much wine, I wish I could say I loved the restaurant's food. I didn't, and that makes me feel like an ungrateful guest. I thought it was all just, well, good.

The Verdict: I liked the concept of Tsuru. They use line-caught yellow-fin tuna, which is nice. (They don't say where from, however.) And their salmon is fresh from the Shetland Islands. Their chicken is free range from the West Country. (As an American, I have no idea where that is, but it sounds good.) Their wine is an EXCELLENT value–but they don't given themselves any credit for it, based on the menu I took home with me.  

If I were them, and if I were wearing my marketing hat, I'd make a much bigger deal about how small their wine markups are. Because nobody else is. That's for sure.

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

Maybe it's the times. Maybe The Garrison just caught me on a bad night. MAybe I just haven't been paying enough attention to the price of pudding these days.

But see the box on this menu? Those are the desserts. And they all clock in at £6.50. The cheese is £7.50.

£6.50 for dessert on Bermondsey Street, of all places? That's highway robbery. Isn't it?

The post £6.50 for a Brownie with Ice Cream? first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Woolpack
98 Bermondsey St
SE1 3UB

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, January 4, 2008

The Victims: Matt, Carolyn, Gerry, Ben

The Damage: Cheap. Probably £10 each? We were buying rounds so I lost track.

The Background: We were having one of those lovely random London days. We'd met at 2 p.m. on the South Bank to watch a man covered in Holly climb out of the Thames. We raced the crowds to The George Inn, where we enjoyed some drinks and talked to some Italians. Eventually, it was time for a change of venue, and some of us (uh, me) hadn't eaten all day. So it was time to get fed and potato chips/crisps weren't cutting it.

The Entrance: The Woolpack is nothing special from the outside. On the inside, it's this odd mixture of old and new. I dig the tilework though. Big time. I just wish people wouldn't try to hang things on tiles. It really ruins the effect.

The Beer: There's only Green King. Well, let me rephrase. There are a lot of beers, but there's only one ale. Green King. That's fine. We load up. And we get some hummus and pita too. And some fries/chips. They're all fine.

The Garden: Hey, there's a beer garden! With crazy London transport signs as tables. I'm a sucker for this sort of stuff. I would come back here in the summer. I miss beer gardens.

The Loo: I bit confusing, that one. I almost got lost. Before I even got there.

The Verdict: This was fine. Just fine. I'd go back for the garden.

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

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.

Cantina del Ponte
Butlers Wharf
36c Shad Thames
SE1 2YE 
Tel 020 7403 5403

Date of Last Visit: Thursday, July 10

The Victims: Melia, Kathrin

The Damage: £63 for three

The Background: Life is funny. For 18 months when I frst moved to London, I lived right around the corner from Cantina del Ponte. But I never went. It’s like now…I can think of one restaurant in the particular that is about 50 meters from my current flat, but I’ve yet to visit. (Nor do I really want to, but that’s another story.)

And you forget sometimes what it’s like to see London through the eyes of someone who is still new to the city. And how great that is. And how much walking is involved.

Melia is working from London for the next two months, so Kathrin and I set out to show her a bit of town. We wandered through Smithfield Market, and then over Millennium Bridge and then along the Thames. It was lovely. (But I did feel bad about the walking. I’m just used to it, I guess.)

The Entrance: Once we got over to Tower Bridge, I figured we might have a problem with dinner as we didn’t really have a booking. We tried The Chophouse, but no dice. And I still hold a grudge against Le Pont de la Tour. So I walked into Cantina del Ponte and wasn’t too optimistic that we could snag a table.

But we did! And outside too. And the bridge went up while we were sitting there, and these two naval vessels sailed through. So all in all, a good show!

The Service: Our initial excitement about snagging a table on the river faded quickly. Because they forgot about us. No menus, nothing. All eyes were on the large table of 10 behind us. There was no multi-tasking.

But then someone spotted us staring longingly at the bread, the wine, all the food going by. He was young, enthusiastic, friendly. And we had his attention for the rest of the evening.

The Food: We kept it simple. Very simple. We all ordered the same thing. Parparadelle with lamb ragout. And it was nice. I would make this at home if I could cook. It wasn’t anything exceptionally interesting. But sometimes, you don’t really need that.

The Loos: I think they can do better.

The Verdict: I think this is a decent sort of place, despite the mixed reviews we read online. Good for a business dinner. And our server is a keeper.

The post Cantina del Ponte, Italian on the River first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Wednesday, April 30th

The Victims: Aunt Ursula, Uncle George

The Damage: £50 or thereabouts

The Background: U&G have been to see the Tower of London. I've stayed home to catch up on life, but I find myself quickly at loose ends. They call me to punch in around noon and I express my boredom and offer to meet them for lunch.

They are so very cold and wet when I pick them up at the Starbucks on Shad Thames that traveling for food is not an option. We walk into the first restaurant available, which is the bar at The Butler's Wharf Chophouse.

I love having no expectations. I assume my food at the Chophouse will be good, but not great. I assume service will be okay. They exceed our expectations in so many ways as to have me repeatedly wonder out loud, "And why is it that I have never eaten here before?"

Firstly, the bread. There's bread with rosemary in it. It's amazingly good and zingy. When our bread bowl is empty, my uncle asks our server to just fill it up with the rosemary slices. Over on the sideboard, there's an oasis of bread. Hundreds, if not thousands of slices, ready to be served. We are enraptured. (OK, I am exaggerating on the thousands bit.)

Secondly, my carrot soup. It's the perfect remedy to such an awful, awful day. It is warm and comforting and salty and (perhaps not surprisingly) full of carrots. I am in love.

Thirdly, the fish and chips. This is my aunt and uncle's first and only experience with fish and chips in London. My uncle is a heavy duty recreational fisherman. We're talking tuna, here, mainly. Lots and lots of tuna. He used to have a license plate that said Blue Fin. (Don't worry, he understands more than most about what's happened to the world's stocks of blue fin tuna.) My point in telling you this is that he's caught the fish and cooked it himself (or skipped the cooking entirely and just eaten it directly). He knows fresh fish. And he is in love with his fish and chips. He notes that if the fish were any fresher, it would leap from the plate. Days later, and they are still talking about the fish and chips with that starry sort of wondrous look in their eyes.

I have the sea bream and it's nice and healthy. Then I go and ruin it all by eating all their leftovers.

The Verdict: I will be back, and I'll order my own fish and chips thank you.

The post Butler’s Wharf Chophouse first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: 30 November 2007

The Victim: Andrew

The Damage: Unknown! Andrew paid.

The Background: Andrew suggested meeting up at Village East for dinner. I have never been to the end of Bermondsey High Street–I've stepped no farther than The Garrison–and I am intrigued. A look at the Village East Web site has me even more intrigued. This place looks cavernous…many different lounging areas. That's the floor plan from the Web site in the image. I love floorplans.

I arrive a little late and am relieved that I am no later than Andrew. I hate being late. (You probably know this already.) I get a glass of something white and French and settle in at the White Bar by the entrance. I can see that the Lounge Bar is packed to the gills. Andrew arrives shortly thereafter and does the gentlemanly thing and swaps out my card for his on the tab. Only thing is…when they give me back my card, it is SO NOT my card. Funny. I get a little worried about credit card fraud.

So let me tell you about the atmosphere at Village East. It isn't as big as the floor plan online makes it seem..it's cozier somehow. It's very Scandinavian warehouse. There is a lot of wood and interesting lights and Danish furniture. You might know that I am a sucker for Danish modern, so I like the look of Village East off the bat.

We are shown to our table in the back and I am surprised…the front of Village East is packed. Not so the back. It's maybe half-full, although later on in the evening, all the tables do perk up.

The Service and The Starters: Our server is great. She is knowledgeable and smart. It kinda seemed like she was in the wrong line of work, and I wondered if she had an aptitude for finance. That being said, I was trying to decide between the scallops & chorizo or the pumpkin soup and she suggested the pumpkin soup because it was so dreadful outside. The pumpkin soup–which seemed to have some spinach ravioli at the bottom of it?–was really nice, but it just wasn't for me. Oh, and it also arrived about three minutes after we ordered it, which was weird. I felt a little rushed. Our server apologized for that…it wasn't her fault, it was the kitchen's.

The Mains: For mains, I chose the sea bass and it came with asparagus (out of season, but nice just the same) and slices of orange and grapefruit. I accidentally ate a slice of grapefruit and it was so so so very bitter, it was awful. I choked up on it. Weirdly, I had some problems with the cutlery…I don't know if my plate was on an angle or if there was just no lip on the plate, but as I would cut into the dish, my fork would fly across the plate and land in my lap. This was weird.

The Dessert: Dessert was lemon tart and it was nice. But just nice. It came with a scoop of ice cream and the ice cream was MELTED which was odd. Why would they serve melted ice cream? That's no fun.

All this was washed down with a bottle of something white and French that I fear was dreadfully expensive. Hmmm.

The Verdict: The food was nice. Lots of people would like it. If I were going out with a group of single girlfriends, or maybe some NYers, I would consider taking them here. I probably wouldn't go out of my way though.

The post Trendy: Village East first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

And I said, "But don’t you think people get tired of US? Talking about food constantly? I mean ALL THE TIME? Not wanting to go to Pizza Express (except for their delicious salad dressing) or Ask or All Bar One? Not wanting to go to a restaurant we’ve already been to when we can go someplace new and exciting? Rattling on and on about how bottled water is a rip off?" (OK, that bottled water thing is just me.)

But man if we’re not fun. Case in point.  Fellow UK food blogger Jess from Ripe London invites me along to the London Food Fair. She’s got some free tickets! Which is great. Because the food fare SUCKS. Big time. It’s so lame. There’s no one there. The only saving grace was Brown Brothers. Because we tasted a lot of wine there. But other than that, I’m glad we didn’t pay to get in.

So we were going to assauge ourselves with a burrito over at Mucho Mas, but I convinced Jess to head over to the Hay’s Galleria Oyster Fest instead. I love the Oyster Fest. This was my fourth year visiting. Good times.

So we had some oysters, which were lovely.

And then we had some mussels, which were just okay…although that didn’t stop us!

And then we headed over to Borough in the hopes that Konditor and Cook might be open, but they weren’t. (It was a Sunday.) So we went to Patisserie Lila instead.

1 Bedale Street
SE1 9AL
Tel: 020 7403 6304

Now, I like the way Patisserie Lila looks. It’s cute. And I, as an American, love anything cute.

But you know what? I am annoyed almost immediately. Jess and I pick out some cake–coffee cake for me (which is not American-style coffee cake, but rather layer cake with coffee frosting in between the layers) and an apple tart for her (which looks amazing), and we’re told to take a seat because they’ll take our order. Fine. Fine. So we sit.

And then–here comes the annoying bit–our server tells us "You can only sit if you’re having food."

She says this with no context whatsoever. It is a pronouncement.

Now really, it’s fine because we are having food. But as I like to say, it’s all in the delivery. Had she said, "Hi, how are you? Are you having cake? Or just coffee?" I would have been fine. (Although if she had made me leave because I wasn’t having cake, I would have caused a scene. A big Long Island scene.)

As I also like to say…if the NPV of any transaction is greater than 0, you should do it. (And well, correct me if I’m wrong–but wouldn’t forcing me to leave be a Negative NPV transaction? Throw people out of pastry shop. Make no money. People never come back because they are annoyed. So make less money off of said people than you would have if you had JUST LET THEM HAVE THEIR COFFEE.) So if Patisserie Lila has been throwing people out all this time because they’re not having cake, well, they’re idiots. Because they could be doing this so differently.

Example: For the people who don’t order cake, tempt them! Have something sweet and inexpensive behind the counter. Bring it out. Have them try it. UPSELL them.
 
Another Example: Give them a little coupon for 50p off cake THE NEXT TIME they come in. This increases the chances that they will come back, and next time, they’ll order food! MENTAL ACCOUNTING, folks. They will have the coupon for 50p, and will most likely spend more because in their head, they are saving money.

Another Example: Say, "Are you sure? We just had a great apple tart come out. It’s really great." In other words, use your powers of persuasion, rather than being a complete and utter jackass.

Is it really that hard? No. It’s not. But why why why do people treat customers like the plague? Like idiots? Like cheapskates? Like they might never be secret-shopped? Like no one will ever write a review about Patisserie Lila? Because now, I’m never going back. They are just too short-sighted for me. I don’t care how cute they are or how delicious their apple tart is. (For the record, the coffee cake was just okay.) They are dead to me.

The post Wine, Oysters, Mussels, Cake. In that order. first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, June 16, 2007

The Victims: Too many to mention.

The Damage: £82 each. With wine pairings.

The Background: Howard has organized lunch for us at Magdalen on Tooley Street. The restaurant no longer opens for Saturday lunch, but they’ve opened special just for us. I, for one, feel special. As I should. Because I am.

The Starter: Is artichoke soup, served with a lovely crostini with goat cheese. (I think.) The soup is perfect and creamy and smooth and simple.

The Salad: That is IT in the picture. It is full of duck and foie gras. It is one of my most wonderful things I’ve ever eaten. It is jam-packed with stuff.

The Main: Is a whole poached baby salmon, served family style. Baby salmon apparently goes by Sea Trout when it’s just a baby. Who knew. (I think there’s more to it than this…something about fins and spines. But that’s enough for now.)

The Dessert:  A concoction of jelly with  a meringue top. Nice, but not my thing.

The Cheese: Pears and blue cheese. I don’t normally like pears. (They bring back bad memories of my time in northern Germany with distant relatives when I felt obligated to finish my dessert of home-tinned pears…uggghhh…I am ill just thinking about it.) But these Magdalen pears, they are okay. Washing them down with port probably helps.

The Loos: Super clean!

The Verdict: I love it. And I’ll take my parents here. And my co-workers. And my friends. Any myself.

The post Modern (Insert Adjective Here):Magdalen first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.