Date of Last Visit: 16 September 2008

The Victims: Many. Lea from Unchained Guide, a great directory of independent shops in London. Rob and Emily from Qype, who organized (and paid) for everything. Tim.  Helen. Chris from Londonist and his own gig. And many other London food and restaurant bloggers and aficionados.

The Background: A few months back, I was invited to a Qype chocolate tasting. I cancelled at the last minute. And I’ve felt terribly guilty about that since. An invitation to La Cave a Fromage was a chance to redeem myself. So I went. (And also felt guilty because I do love the Trusted Places guys too, you know.)

The Entrance: I am smack dab on time, and everyone is ready to get started. Amnon, our host, is informative and interesting. I think he also knows we’re hungry. We start with a brie and then there’s an English ewe’s milk, and then a Gouda and then an Italian blue cheese. We’re then poured a very interesting wine–the one in my last post–and it’s a wine made of WHEY. Yes, WHEY. As in CURDS AND. We move on to a cheese from Burgundy and then a weird goat cheese. I’m still waiting for the official names of what we had, but the English ewe’s milk cheese was my absolute favorite, particularly with a little fig paste.

What I Learned: Parma ham should be aged no longer than 17 months.

The Verdict: I really liked La Cave. This was a freebie, a total freebie. Amnon used to work with big supermarkets, so he’s put a lot of thought into the layout of the shop. There are no tills. There are no counters. It’s all eye-level. There are a lot of options and the staff seem friendly and informative. If I should ever find myself in South Ken–perhaps before a night out at boujis, because you know I hang out there all the time–I’d drop in for some cheese.

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Hummingbird Bakery
47 Old Brompton Road
SW7 3JP

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, March 22 2008

The Victims: Sarah, Rachel, Arielle

The  Background: When we arrive at Hummingbird, the queue is out the door. But we manage a table anyhow and Sarah lines up for some cupcakes. The place is manic. People are in and out and in and out. While we’re waiting, someone uses the loo and accidentally pulls the emergency cord, so for the next five minutes, this ear-piercing tone can be heard throughout Hummingbird. The staff must be immune to this, because they ignore it. This is one of the most annoying things I’ve ever experienced.

We quickly eat what we can of our cupcakes–I’ve had so much sugar, I feel sick and the high pitched continuous tone is not helping–and we leave.

The Verdict: Not a place to hang out. But I thought the carrot cake cupcake was the strongest cupcake I’d had all day. The cream cheese frosting was great. And the carrot cake was rich and dense and had all sorts of interesting things in it. All that being said, there are a lot of signs in the loo telling you NOT to do things, and this sorta bothers me. (“Please don’t pull the emergency cord” was one of them.) I can understand why they need all those signs, but they seem slightly passive aggressive to me. I wish I had taken a photo.

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Hummingbird Bakery
47 Old Brompton Road
SW7 3JP

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, March 22 2008

The Victims: Sarah, Rachel, Arielle

The  Background: When we arrive at Hummingbird, the queue is out the door. But we manage a table anyhow and Sarah lines up for some cupcakes. The place is manic. People are in and out and in and out. While we’re waiting, someone uses the loo and accidentally pulls the emergency cord, so for the next five minutes, this ear-piercing tone can be heard throughout Hummingbird. The staff must be immune to this, because they ignore it. This is one of the most annoying things I’ve ever experienced.

We quickly eat what we can of our cupcakes–I’ve had so much sugar, I feel sick and the high pitched continuous tone is not helping–and we leave.

The Verdict: Not a place to hang out. But I thought the carrot cake cupcake was the strongest cupcake I’d had all day. The cream cheese frosting was great. And the carrot cake was rich and dense and had all sorts of interesting things in it. All that being said, there are a lot of signs in the loo telling you NOT to do things, and this sorta bothers me. (“Please don’t pull the emergency cord” was one of them.) I can understand why they need all those signs, but they seem slightly passive aggressive to me. I wish I had taken a photo.

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We were off to see the Golden Age of Couture at the V&A for a girls’ day out. It’s a great exhibition, which focuses on women’s fashion in the period right after World War II, with special attention on the work of Christian Dior. Check it out.

And while you’re at it, pay a visit to the cafe at the V&A. Had I known ahead of time that it would be so lovely, I would have suggested we stay for lunch. The rooms off the main area were gorgeous, and they had a guy playing the piano. You could get a nice pot of tea, or a glass of wine. The pastries looked nice and the whole place was clean and classy. Shame there wasn’t a spare table.

The post The V&A for Lunch. Who Knew? first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, March  3, 2007

The Victims: K&A

The Damage: £60+

The Background: I haven’t seen K&A in ages. They’ve been skiing in France. K’s been in NY for her brother’s birthday and for work. They’ve been to Paris for a wedding. They’ve been sick and are on antibiotics.

Or maybe they’re just avoiding me.

But really, I’ve been missing their sound counsel, so it was more than time for a meet-up. I suggested Le Gavroche because it was time for my annual treat to myself. They demured and suggested L’etranger instead. I was bummed, but only for about five seconds. 

The Arrival: I am wearing new black patent leather shoes from Spice Shoes on Upper Street. I am fascinated by their cuteness. So too the staff at L’etranger. I arrive and am greeted by a flury of French…I understand only "shoes" and "glossy" and "pretty." (Asked to provide the French equivalent, I cannot. I cannot understand my non-verbal fluency in other languages.) I look down. I look up. We are all grinning at my shoes. It is a moment. And honestly, never have I been greeted so warmly in a restaurant. (Proving, perhaps, that clothes–or shoes–do make the woman?)

The Drink: A kir royale, of course.

The Sommelier: Is the cutest person ever. When it becomes obvious that my two companions are on antibiotics and a bottle is not in the question, he gladly fetches me a glass of–dare I say–Chilean white! (I did not want to order Chilean! He did! I was only following his advice.) He is obviously of the school that is just there to be helpful–regardless of how much you’re paying. And he was wearing a suit of some of the sharpest tailoring I’ve ever seen. Honestly, he was so fantastic that I composed an (albeit Chilean-influenced) thank you e-mail to the restaurant when I returned home later that evening.)

The Starters: Are beautiful. I have the spicy squid–we called it fried galamard on Long Island. (That’s calamari in Long-Islandish.) I forget now what A had, but I think he was happy with it. Oh wait–now I remember–it was lobster. Lobster and something…it looked fantastic…it had big tall stringy things coming off it…

The Mains: I had the chilean sea bass, based on the reviews I read online. This was a meal for thin girls, and I mean this in the best possible way. It was really really nice. But I needed some more carbs. Honestly, the sea bass was wonderfully and perfectly cooked. And the soba noodles were really nice. But I was peckish. (Ohhh…I am so English. I’m peckish??? Where the hell did that come from?) And I was INSANELY jealous of Kristi’s wagu beef. Now that looked great. It came with croquettas–and something else which again escapes me but I’ve just found the menu online, and now I understand why K&A were insistent about paying more than me per person when the bill came at the end of the night, despite their lack of beverages…

The Dessert: We split the chocolate platter. Now I don’t know how one person was supposed to eat all of this, because it was seriously five different types of chocolate all served together. There was a fondant with strawberries in it. There was a mousse in a shotglass. There was fruity tart of some sort. Here, let me just recite the description: Chocolate Fondant, Trio of white, dark and milk chocolate Parfait, Earl Grey Pot de Crème, Green Tea Ice Cream, White Chocolate and Passion Fruit Mousse.

More than enough for one, no?

The Loos: Seriously, the best I have ever been to in London. Clean. Neat. They smelled SO clean. I wish my flat smelled that good. You could eat off the floor. Great tilework. Great mirrors. Very classy.

The Verdict: One of my nicest meals in London. Maybe even THE nicest. I’m serious. 

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Date of Last Visit: Saturday, April 9

The Victim: Connie

The Damage: 25 GBP each

You will remember that not so long ago, I enjoyed some fabulous cocktails and not-so-fabulous snacks at Eclipse on Old Brompton Road. On the way to Eclipse, and on the way home, I walked by this Belgian place and thought, "Beer." I love Belgian Beer. So here I am a few weeks later and we have a party to go to by Earl’s Court, so The Abbaye for dinner it is.

They have Connie’s name down incorrectly, so they’re not really sure we have a booking. But they let me sit anyhow, and I wait and wait because Connie is late and no one offers me a drink. I arrived at 8:23 pm. It was about 8:50 before someone actually brought me my Delirium. I was delirious with joy when the beverage, in a glass with pink elephants, arrived. Things picked up from here. Sort of.

We ordered mussels and I though, "Gee, a kilo sounds like a lot." But our waiter assured me that it would not be too much for little ‘ole me. Well, it was WAY too much. There were A LOT of mussels. I could have pulled mussels from the shell (cue Squeeze) all night. I went for the ones in beer, bacon, and shallots. They were good, but not great. Connie really liked hers–more of a marinara thing going on. My frites were fantastic, if a bit on the salty side. Connie’s frites were undercooked. Ah wait, I’ve neglected to tell you about our appetizers–bitterballen (yummy deep fried dough balls) and a salad. Good choices. Solid bets.

We soon switched to strawberry beer–Kriek for me, I believe. (Maybe it was cherry.) Very yummy. A good substitute for dessert.

Through it all, service was kind and professional. Good work.

The Verdict: If I lived around the corner, I’d probably stop in here once or twice a month because it’s a good place with predictable food and I love Belgian beers. Also, the decor was quite nice–dark and candlelit and you know I look good in the dark. 🙂

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The Victims: Connie and Anna

Date of Last Visit: January 22, 2004

Connie and I were having a Day of France. We went to the Vive La France show at Kensington Olympia, which was surprisingly entertaining. Mucho (or should I say "tres") wine, cheese, sausage, and soap. I learned that I do not like Calvados, and that I do appreciate a fine sausage. After about two hours there, we heading to South Ken to check out La Bouchee. I’d heard it was affordable and cute.

La Bouchee gets points for atmosphere. Mucho points. It was small with many nooks and crannies. All dark wood and cute tables. La Bouchee loses points for service. It was haphazard, and I wasn’t quite sure whether they spoke English.

Our wine was delightful: a Sancerre. My salad was lovely–although there were a few too duck livers for me. Connie’s french onion soup looked lovely, and the bread was fantastic.

I had the Coq au Vin as an entree and it was good. I wanted it to be better though. Connie had the Steak and Frites, and the frites were delicious. Anna had an open ravioli that looked questionable, but she said it was great. So I don’t know.

For dessert, we split a creme brulee and a fruit mousse tart. Both were fantastic.

Would I go back? I’m not sure. Maybe. The atmostphere was alluring. It strikes me as a good date place. The food didn’t entirely bowl me over though. I had such high hopes! Hmmm. Maybe next time.

The Verdict: Out, unfortunately. I can’t decide! Go for atmosphere. Food okay.

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