If I had to choose which of the seven summers have been the
best I’ve had in
London, weather-wise, I think the summer of 2014 wins hands down -- and it's
only mid-August!
The summers
can be brief and forgettable here; I fondly recall sitting with
Robyn and Jimmy in Covent Garden in the summer of 2008 with button-down
sweaters pulled over our shoulders and scarves round our necks waiting for the
rain to abate, sipping cappuccinos. That was a fine summer, perhaps ranking second of seven; it was only August that was a bit
rubbish. But oh how glorious the last few weeks have been this year—I dare use
the word “hot” to describe some of these last few weeks. Septembers are lovely,
in general . . . something to look forward to, fingers crossed.
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| Street art! |
London in
the summer is great to do things out of doors; I recently went to an Alternative
London walking tour with colleagues on what started as a cloudy day that
morphed from cloudy with a chance of rain into a beautiful, hot (there it is
again) sunny afternoon. Now, I have done some of the London Walks and
both of the Shakespeare walks sponsored by the Globe, and have found them
fascinating primarily for the guides' knowledge of the city, the architecture,
the history, etc. Our guide for the alternative walk was sadly a bit too
self-promoting and political . . . he spent more time telling us about
his websites and who he knows than about the streets in east London we strolled
down. That was a disappointment.
Then again, Alternative London walks are meant
to be “free”--you show up and if you want at the end of the walk you are asked
to give a small donation (the recommendation is £5) to the guide. To be fair, our
guide was quite knowledgeable about the street artists--Roa, Jonesy, Banksy (“don’t
pronounce it Bansky”), etc--and had some
knowledge of the history of the area and how it has been gentrified over the
years. I just expected more of what the other walks were like; I should have
realised that it was billed as "alternative" for a reason! At a
certain point I just disengaged my brain from his blather and took in the art
and enjoyed the stroll through Shoreditch and Spitafields, east London way.
The day got even better as we went to a nearby traditional
Punjabi restaurant called Tayyab’s in Whitechapel for a team meal after the walk.
It was a late lunch, 2:30 pm, and we started in the usual style for Indian food
with poppadoms for all and a mixed grill (think a lot of meat). Frankly that
would have been enough, but there were mains to come. I was happy that I'd
ordered a small king prawn dish; even that was a minor struggle to finish (and
thankfully wasn't more meat)! By the end of the meal everyone looked a bit . .
. stuffed. There were even some leftovers going home. And I can see why the
place is quite popular--our walking tour guide was recommending it as the best
Indian in London--as the food was perfectly cooked, delicately spiced, and
quite tasty. I’d offered to buy a round of drinks at a nearby pub for the
team, but only half joined; the other half limped away holding their tums.
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| Mixed grill at Tayyab's. |
The visit
to Tayyab's had me recalling
another recent adventure with food in Richmond, just west of London. Imagine numerous small plates
from a menu the chef chooses
(and doesn’t share) that
begins when you arrive (which for us was 7:30 pm) and culminates at 9:45 pm
with something spectacular--in our case a whole roast pig brought out to the
cramped dining room for all of us to admire. Yes, there was clapping and picture taking.
I paced myself, knowing what to expect at Al Boccon di'vino
("a divine mouthful"). The menu is meant to be Venetian, but having
never been to a Venetian wedding feast I wasn't entirely sure what would be
presented; I was hoping for a
bit of fish. The parma ham and melon was a wonderful starter for a warm
evening. I recall a grilled eggplant followed by a trio of mouthfuls of baked
aubergine, meatball, and a fat but tender asparagus sprinkled with cheese.
There was a scallop and a king prawn in red sauce. A delightful beef carpaccio
on salad drizzled with truffle oil followed. Two pastas, one with mascarpone
cheese, made their way to the table. All this and two bottles of red wine
before the main event. (I
suspect I may have even missed detailing
a course—perhaps there
was a white fish?!)
I had a bit of room left for the pork, served with roasted potatoes. I was disappointed to find the
potato a bit too salty to enjoy—truly my only complaint of the evening. The pork was lovely, moist and less innocuous on the
plate than its earlier presentation. Until one of the guests requested some
crispy bits. She was presented with the head on a platter.
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| Oink! |
Did I mention dessert? A lovely pannacotta. I am not a
dessert person, but did give it a go, and it was lovely and silky as you would
expect it to be. The limoncello to finish was, however, more than I could
manage . . . that and at 10:45 pm with our last direct train back to North
London in under 20 minutes, Tim and I decided to take the much needed walk back
to the overground.
Was it very good? Absolutely. And the food, if I recall
correctly, is not outrageously priced. The wine, of course, depends on what you
choose. The hostess, Simona (apparently a Romanian and not a Venetian), will tell you she
has bottles for £25, £40, £50 and above, and will gladly give her opinion if
you ask. These are displayed
all around the small, dimly-lit restaurant, but again, no list to choose from. We
started on the low end and enjoyed the house red, then moved to something a bit
more pricey that was good but not that much better than the first, and finished
with something back under £40.
Certainly a place to try, but perhaps not to re-visit all that often. After all,
there are a lot of wonderful food choices in or just outside London . . . and this is more of a food “experience”
to bring people to than a place to dine regularly.
And what will the rest of this London summer bring? Well
some time away from London, to Germany, and as ever a bit of time on the Isle
of Wight. It's Cowes Week and I've left Tim and the crew at Number 12 to enjoy
the revelry. I was only mildly worried when Tim mentioned a BBQ, given his
history (recalling again, fondly, the summer of 2008 when I was serving tea to
the fire brigade at 3 am after a small fire from a BBQ the previous evening ignited the ivy at the back of the
garden).
Fortunately no repeat performance!
