2015 has been the year of saying “Yes!” I’ve been saying “Yes” to a lot of the things that I used to say no to. Firstly, I have more time than I used to have. Secondly, and frankly, I got tired of saying “No.”  Of the many things in life I really can’t say no to, French food ranks highly. Very highly. One day, I will go to France and learn to cook. I promise you, mom. (My mother learned to cook by mail in the 1970s. The Grand Diplome from Le Cordon Bleu. She still has the binders. She wants me to learn.)

So French food. Brasserie Gustave invited me and a +1 to come along for lunch one day, so I brought along Jen and a +2, Baby Arden. (I asked in advance if that was okay.) It was time to introduce Arden to the concept of “Ladies Who Lunch.” Given the speed at which Arden shoved two beautiful madeleines into her beautiful gob, I think she is now a convert, both to “Ladies Who Lunch” and to madeleines. Thank you to the staff at Brasserie Gustave for providing the madeleines. Also thank you to Brasserie Gustave for putting up with our mess because this is how things looked when we left…they get extra points for this…

But really, our meal at Brasserie Gustave was tremendously lovely. I understand now why Fay Maschler liked it. And Jay Rayner. If you are looking for  a place to take your parents for lunch or dinner, Brasserie Gustave is it. The space during the day is light and spacious, the service is attentive, and the food is deeply French and deeply good.

Deeply, deeply French like delicious, garlicky escargot…

And deeply, deeply French like perfect, buttery foie gras…

Richard, our host, was very attentive and kind during our meal. So too our server — the one who brought Arden the madeleines. Richard brought us his suggested wine pairings with each course. (Whenever I am in a French restaurant or in the hands of a knowledgeable server, I put myself in their hands.) My favorite was the Coteaux du Layon from Maison Langlois-Chateau, a honey-toned Chenin Blanc.

For lunch, Jen and I “pseudo-shared” our two mains. I say “pseudo-shared” because of course we were like “We can share!” but really, we each enjoyed our mains so much that there was really the only tiniest bit of sharing there towards the end. (After we had finished talking, you know.) My Rossini was honest perfection, the beef perfectly medium rare, the spinach perfect and well…more perfect foie gras. How many times can I use perfect in this blog post?? I see now that they are offering a Chateaubriand Rossini for two for £70. You should go to Brasserie Gustave with that special someone in your life and get it.

Jen ordered one of the day’s specials, a baby chicken perfectly prepared. I would tell you what it tasted like but Jen only let me have the tiniest of bites at the end of our meal, so enthralled was she in the entire dish. By this point, I knew the feeling.

The Verdict: I tremendously, tremendously enjoyed my meal at Brasserie Gustave. If my father ever makes good on his threat to come visit me again, this is where we are going. Richard and his team are fabulous hosts and the food is fabulously French. Prices are a tiny bit high but honestly, it’s worth it. Go go go. (They also get super extra credit for dealing well with an active 13 month old.)

I was a guest of Brasserie Gustave. They are very kind hosts. We tipped on our guesstimate of the full bill.

The post Brasserie Gustave, Chelsea first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Hello Northern Line. I’ve missed you. Yes. You. Even though you totally suck at rush hour. But when you’re empty and you make the sounds that you do, I do love you. You’re efficient. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You’re clean. (Except during rush hour, with all the newspapers flapping about.) You’re — strangely — comfortable, you with your blue velour cushioned seats. London Bridge to Angel, in no time then.

Yes. I was back. A flight to London in the $800 range? This is a good thing. Lots of points on my credit card, letting me stay three nights at the The Park Lane Hotel? Even better.

Too bad The Park Lane was such a dump, relatively speaking. The carpets had seen better days. Way way better better days. But at least the bed was comfortable. Oh, and they had one of those outlet panels that let’s you plug in an American plug. Even though you’re in the UK. Nice.

The lounge at the hotel was GORGEOUS. Utterly old-school gorgeous. Makes you want to drink champagne gorgeous. Too bad this didn’t translate to the dumpity-dump-dump dumps of rooms.

To make myself feel better, I took myself out to dinner. At Dinner. Dinner by Heston Blumenthal. You know, this guy. I would like to thank — profusely and obviously so — the maitre’d at Dinner for squeezing in our table of six on a Friday night at 8 pm. And into a very prime table no less. I’m sad we never got a chance to meet. Or hug. Because truly, this was one of the loveliest of evenings…definitely hug-worthy. Even if @leeturnerconn — aka Feathers –was ready to pass out at the table. (Pregnant. Twins. We forgive her.) But that Meat Fruit (pictured)? Like silk. Edible edible silk. (Foie gras. Mandarin. You get it.) The maitre’d also popped for a round of biscuity champagne, a wonderful surprise that made an already festive evening even more so festive.

I had the pork chop to end all pork chops at Dinner by Heston Blumenthal. Soft like a blanket inside. In the best possible way.

The Tipsy Cake — a wonderful pineapple creation — nearly brought me to tears. Happy sad tears for everything I had left behind and everything yet to come. (Even though this was the end.) Slow-roasted pineapple. On a spit. Carmelized and only-God-knows-what-else-brioche with custard — custard which I am normally not a fan of, but which worked marvelously well here. I didn’t want to leave Dinner, and nothing could spoil anything, not even the couple at the table next to us, who stopped to (rudely and obviously) count the number of (perceived) Americans at our table. Sigh. We’ve been in the country a while now. We talk with our inside voices. Really. (And you two didn’t talk to each other one bit your ENTIRE meal. Sad!)

The Verdict: You should go to Dinner. If you don’t live in the UK, you should get on a plane and fly there. Just don’t cry. Like I did, in the terribly short taxi ride “home,” against the darkness of Green Park, wide awake with jetlag, wondering how I could make this all never end.

Chin up though! After a spin through Borough Market Saturday morning, where I had one of these…

and wept with happiness (that’s the chorizo & rocket sandwich from Brindisa), @tehbus suggested I come on over to Ferdies Food Lab that evening, which Simon himself had invited me to a week or two earlier. I took this all as a huge sign and headed over to Aldgate East to meet the gang for what would turn out to be a memorably bizarre evening. (You know…where there’s a man wearing a beret who talks about his black cape, and there’s someone else who manages to tell an entirely different story to everyone there about how they came to be there, and then there’s an in-depth discussion of the pros-and-cons of “adult” dating Web sites and before you know it, someone has drank all your wine so you’re drinking someone else’s and hope they don’t notice before it’s time to leave. And then you try to take a taxi home but the black cab driver kinda goes a lot crazy on you — only the second time that’s happened over hundreds of cab rides over more than seven years —  to the point where you just pay him and get out in the middle of traffic at Oxford Street tube, even though you’re going to Green Park. )

Ferdies Food Lab is what I’d call a supper club. A large one. And a loud one. Either I’m deaf, or no one but @tehbus speaks loudly enough for me to understand.

The main of slow roast lamb was — and I hate both of these words — moist and succulent. Hard to turn away from this dish. I sorta wanted to take away the leftovers. But I had nowhere to put them. (Sob.)

Where else?

The next morning, I went to Automat in Mayfair for the most disappointing of American breakfasts before heading down to Brockley for the most amazing of barbecues and the most beautiful of skies. And then the Big Green Egg came down from the skies and gifted us all with food and we were very happy.

The End.

…or is it?

The post Sleeping & Eating in London Part 47 first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Ranoush
338 Kings Road
SW3 5UR

Date of Last Visit: Friday, May 22, 2009

The Victims: Anna, Feathers, Jen, Ally

The Damage: £25 each

The Background: We've been over to the Royal Chelsea Flower Show. It was my first time. And I was a bit disappointed. I was expecting more than a handful of show gardens. I suppose show gardens are expensive these days and it's a recession and all. But after reading the Royal Chelsea Web site–where they say to wear comfortable shoes because you'll be doing a lot of walking, and where a day pass costs you £57 a head, well…my expectations were just not set correctly. (We opted for the much cheaper £18.50 evening tickets.) I mean, the hats made of flowers were cool, but not that cool.

So afterwards, we made our way down the King's Road in search of sustenance. Anna suggested Lebanese and we were all on board. But Al Dar, which got a good review from Anna, couldn't take us. So we kept walking. And walking. And walking. (The things I do for my blog.) Until we got to Ranoush. (We took the bus back to Sloane Square after dinner.)

The Entrance: I've called ahead to the restaurant and they've said no problem, they can take us. The staff were very nice and told us which table was going to be ours, and that they probably just needed 10 minutes or so. And they were right on. 10 minutes later, the table was ours. And I have to say, the departing guests were the nicest people ever. They kept apologizing to us that they had taken so long wrapping up their bill, etc. We didn't care. We were busy chatting.

The Food: Lots of meze to start. Labneh (great), hummus (ok), babaganoush (great), falafel balls (a bit too dry for me, but not bad overall), and some deep-fried spinach-y things (eh). And some nice hot pita bread (nice, but not that nice). All this washed down by the Lebanese house wine (eh) which we later replaced with some Tempernillo (much nicer and smoother). Oh yes, and green beans, which sorta tasted like they were straight from the can.

I was glad we had convinced the gals that we didn't need a main each. One chicken shish and one mixed grill were just about right for us. These were both just solid options. Nothing spectacular.

The Service: Super-friendly and nice. Kept checking in on us. Not bad.

The Loos: I've seen worse. These were okay.

The Verdict: £25 per head for the quantity of food we experienced and the quality of service we had is not a bad thing. I'd go back here for a quick meal. It's very small though. Very small.

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

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, April 14th

The Victims: DeeDee, K&A, Ann, Andy, Colin

The Damage: Oh I am so terrible. Maybe it was £50ish?

The Background: DeeDee is in from Denver and I am so happy to see her. In true Deed fashion, no trans-atlantic nap is needed. We walk across the Millennium Bridge and we have a beer at The Rake. We walk through a very quiet Borough Market at 4 p.m., we hop in a black cab, and then it’s over to Chelsea for dinner at The Pig’s Ear.

You see…the other weekend, I was brunching with Jessica of Ripe London and she mentioned how much she likes The Pig’s Ear. And coincidentally, I had also heard that Wills and Kate (used to) love The Pig’s Ear. And so I made it our destination.

The Food: I had that rough kind of foie gras. You know…not the buttery kind, but rather the big chunky farmhouse kind. Not my favorite. But not bad either. And then I had the cod. And it was nice. It was a generous portion. People would like the food here. 

The Rest: The service was odd. He was not very charming. He was flippant, and I was not. Very unhelpful. And bottled water is a scam.

The Loos: One day, I will start my own business: power-washing and feminizing loos. Would your mother let your bathroom look like this?

The Company: Perfect.

The Verdict: A good date, or a meet-the-parents. Or a hello and a goodbye to old friends.

The post To Will & Kate: The Pig’s Ear first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Wednesday, 31 January 2007

The Victims: Joe, Maria, Jen

The Damage: Unknown!

The Background: I had organized a little outing over to the Great Australian Wine Experience by St. James’ Park. For £35, we got a nice big book about Australian wine producers/distributors, as well as a commenorative glass; you could wander from one stand to the next, tasting along the way. (Some producers even let you pour your own. Nice.) It was a fantastic evening. One of the highlights were a couple of different Chardonnays from Giant Steps.

Once we were all wined-out–I never thought that would be possible–we hopped a taxi over to The Enterprise, Joe & Maria’s old local. I was very excited because I’d always heard nice things.

The Approach: And indeed, The Enterprise was nice. And cozy. The staff were particularly so and the whole place was cast in this lovely warm goldenly glow. (Then again, maybe there was still a little too much lovely warm goldeny Chardonnay coursing through my veins.) There was a short wait for a table, so we enjoyed some drinks and Doritos at the bar.

The Starters: I was insanely jealous of the calamari starter. They looked like onion rings and were stacked high. My foie gras was teensy in comparison, but was, as foie gras nearly always is, very very tasty.

The Mains: My salmon fishcakes were really good, although a bit on the dry side. After all that white wine, I didn’t care though..dry was a good thing.

The Verdict: I’d go back for the coziness and the proximity to Harrod’s.

The post Gastro: The Enterprise first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, 19 November 2006

The Victims: Al, Louise + 1/3

The Damage: £45 per person (LOVE my new English keyboard with the £££££ sign!)

The Background: Al and Louise are master organizers–they are so good at the brunch thing, you’d think they were from my country. They have the dubious honor of being "my English friends." They’re lovely. They are also EXPECTING which is very exciting, and which I suspected many months ago when Louise and I went to the theatre in Richmond. "We" had a drink at the Orange Tree and I did not write about it; you see, Louise did not drink at all, and let us just say that that is just a wee bit abnormal for her so I was immediately suspicious.

The Arrival:  I arrive–early, despite visiting my Anya Hindmarch bags at Harrods–and am left in the doorway. A gentleman takes my coat and proceeds to stand there. He cannot seat me. I tell him I have a booking, but that does not matter. He cannot help me. No one can, except for the one man at the bar who is too busy serving the 7 customers seated. I am peeved!!! A couple walk in behind me. They too are left standing. The odd part is that there are 7 customers seated and THERE ARE 8 WAITSTAFF. And no one besides the guy holding my coat seems to give a damn that I’m there. Holy crap, I must be in France!

Finally, the head dude comes over and I tell him I have a booking and I say it’s for at least 3 at 12:45 and then he assumes that the people behind me are all with me and this just annoys me further. But finally I am shown to my table.

Sitting: And I am further ignored! I try to make significant eye contact with all 8 waitstaff, but despite the lack of customers, they all seem terribly busy. They walk to the front of the restaurant and then the back. Finally, I catch the eye of a young boy (he is, really, but a boy) and I request a glass of Riesling. Finally. Things pick up from there.

The Clientele: I must be in Paris. Everyone is American!

The Food: Al & Louise arrive and we go for the French Onion soup (but of course!) and the deep fried corn fritters (I could be SO wrong on this). My soup is good–deep and dark and onion-y. It’s not the unbelievable French Onion experience I had in Paris with Michael and his friend Jenny at midnight when we were lost, but it is still very respectable.

The Mains: When I was a child, my father was in the Coast Guard Reserves. One year, we went to Virginia and went camping while he did his active duty (two weeks). We ate at the mess hall on the Navy base most every night for dinner. Except for the night they served RABBIT. Us Yankees hightailed it off that base faster than a, heck, I don’t know. But it was fast. We had dinner at Wendy’s that night. (Aside: One of my fave memories from childhood is seeing the opening of A View to A Kill on that very same base–we were the only family in the place–it was all soldiers in their uniforms, and man, were they excited to see James Bond!)

This is a very long way of saying that I had rabbit for lunch at Racine. Rabit with mustard and stringbeans. And you know what? It tasted like chicken. Heck, it’s possible it was chicken. I have no idea. It was like white meat. I was expecting duck-like meat. But I guess I should have realized that chicken is fowl and rabbit is not.

Al liked Louise’s dish so much that he ate his (the beef) and hers (the stew). Us drinkers washed it all down with a lovely chalky Sancerre.

Dessert: I love it when they set my dessert on fire. I don’t know what it was, but it was flammable.

The End: The restaurant filled up around 2 p.m., and the 8 waitstaff were fully utilized. Everyone who waited on us was very kind and decent, so I cannot complain except for that blip at the beginning where everyone ignored me.

The Loos: Not so bad. Clean and neat and very closet-like.

The Verdict: My father would like it here.

The post Frenchie, frenchie: Racine 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, October 16th

The Victims: Don, Joe, Maria

The Damage: Unknown!

Don was in town and had spent the day exploring Greenwich and East London. As a change of pace from Whitechapel, Joe invited him to Chelsea for dinner at one of his favorite locals. I came along too!

I had some trouble finding the Admiral. Multiple people sent me in multiple directions, until Maria very nicely came and picked me up from a nearby intersection. It was a rainy night, so the Admiral looked appealing from a distance, all twinkly and bright inside.

I was the last to arrive and joined everyone at the bar for a quick glass and shop talk. The bar was cute and well-kept.Comfortable. A nice looking crowd. We were shown our seats in the very comfortable and earthy-toned restaurant in the back, which apparently has a glass ceiling which opens! A neat trick.

I ordered–surprise surprise–the foie gras terrine, which was lovely. It came with some apple jelly, which was a nice touch. The bread was also very tasty. A real winner. But the highlight of the evening, and in fact, my meals of the last few months, was THE VEAL. It was SO unbelievably delicious. It was fried perfectly–not with all that heavy schnitzel breading. It still managed to seem light–and dare I say–healthy?–despite all the frying. It’s two weeks later as I write this and I am SALIVATING while I think about it.

For dessert, I had another terrine–a chocolate one–and it was yummy–dense and rich. A little bit dry, but I will not hold that against it. I would still order again!

Sadly, I was so obsessed with my veal, I do not remember what my dinner companions enjoyed. I am fairly certain there were clean plates and happy faces.

The Verdict: A nice place for dinner with mom and dad, or an informally-formal work dinner. Go here. But leave some veal for me.

The post Gastro: Admiral Codrington first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

The Victim: Boss

Date of Last Visit: Thursday, July 14, 2005. (Sorry, still catching up after all that salmon in Alaska!)

The Damage: Unknown

I needed a venue close to a couple of key locations. Firstly, a tube, as I was wearing pretty impossible heels. Secondly, a parking garage. Thirdly, a hotel. Also, I needed something business-like with good service and good food. And of course, if it was available via Toptable.co.uk, even better.

So Bibendum, it was. I still haven’t gotten over my anger towards a different Conrad property–Le Pont de la Tour. A long story, but in May of 2004, they insisted they were fully booked and wouldn’t seat us, but yet remained empty the entire evening–oh yes, we watched. My father isn’t a Private Investigator for nothing. But I tried to not bias myself.

So we chanced a visit to another Conrad–but this time, with a booking. Bibendum was empty upstairs when we we were seated. But I was intrigued by the downstairs Oyster bar–looked like a nice place to while away a Saturday afternoon–and it was sufficiently packed. Also, the tile work was a nice touch. (After spending 10 days with Uncles George and Bob, I am very sensitive to good tile work.) As usual in English restaurants, I feel like a million different people waited on us, and the sommelier looked weird–kinda like a guy from Revenge of the Nerds–and he wasn’t overly helpful. (Then again, Boss knew what he wanted.)

Perhaps getting ready for my sojurn in Alaska, I ordered the scallops to start and they were super-delicious; they were accompanied by risotto, which after my stay in Croatia, has me forever a fan. And the Bibendum stained glass was just so pretty…all in all, I was settling in very nicely. I went for the Breen for my main, with a side of spinach. The spinach was also super-delicious; I swear they laced it with anisette or something. Boss also enjoyed his food tremendously…if I remember correctly, it was the roasted chicken. After we left, he said it was one of the best meals he’d had in the UK…good stuff.

For dessert, I had the warm strawberries with iced lavender parfait and Champagne. The champagne was a pink champagne, and it was presented in a tall shot glass…lovely. The iced lavender was like nothing I’ve ever had before…it was creamy, but solid. I wish I knew what the ingredients were. Fantastic.

I used the Ladies’ and remember that it was nice, but nothing to write home about.

The Verdict: A delightful experience with wonderful food and attentive (if not very personal) service. I’d go again. Definitely.

The post How do I love thee?: Bibdendum first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.