Dad, food and me.

May 10

My father really  loved food. Really loved it. Humpty-Dumpty-shaped until the age of 70, he always joked that he’d only be able to lose weight if it was a matter of life and death. And when he turned 70, it was. So he lost just under seven stone. No fuss, no messing, he just did it.

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Saying No to Norma.

March 07

When C gets on the train of disappointment, he likes to stop at every station.

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Bubala, Soho. Middle-aged spread.

February 13

I knew I was chancing my arm when I said I’d booked a vegetarian in Soho. C said he would leave it to me to choose where to eat that day as “we’ll go where you want anyway” he says, not entirely without justification. But as we all know, I’ll leave it to you does […]

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Riveted by the Kent Riviera.

January 07

It’s what everyone wants, isn’t it? A perfect neighbourhood restaurant. One that can always squeeze you in and where there will be something on the menu that you just have to have and where you will debate with yourself for oh, seconds, about whether you can justify the Tarte Tatin, which is supposedly for three […]

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I do like to be beside the Seasalter side

January 05

And just like that. Note my pilfering of the Sex and the City title, not that I’ve ever watched it. Don’t ask me why, probably something to do with the title or the fact that I didn’t warm to the premise, notwithstanding that I love both clothes and New York. Like the whole Abba Mamma […]

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Losing my Heart at The White Hart, Wytham.

June 02

I know. It’s been a while. I also know that I said I’d be writing about Oxfordshire restaurants. And I will. But it has been harder than I thought. I’m used to reviewing in the relative anonymity of London, where I can post an honest review, safe in the knowledge that if it is less […]

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The Double Red Duke, Clanfield.

November 25

I’d almost come in summer as part of a little Cotswolds foray, before the glowing reviews, (look at me, ahead of the curve), but had to cancel, on account of having overestimated how much my stomach could actually absorb over the space of two days. Turns out that there is a limit. Even for me. […]

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Pizzeria Mozza. Leaving me cold.

November 18

I was going to answer properly but I thought better of it.

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Let’s go round again…

The elastic waistband is my frenemy.

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Orasay, Notting Hill.

August 08

Can you possibly turn down the heavy metal, I say to the enthusiastic waitress? It’s too loud and I’m too old. This is the second time in as many weeks I’ve had to have the conversation about the music. It seems to me that it is there for the waitstaff (all v young and v […]

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Parsons. On the nose.

January 16

It is the new year and I am determined to find a way to eat out without it getting out of control, “it” being not only the frequency of the restaurant forays, but also the food I put into my face. I am, in this quest,  starting gently with Parsons. With its fresh simple fish […]

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