Summertime

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.

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.

 

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.

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!