Do not believe the myth that British food is bland and boiled to death. While on assignment in London we had nothing but delicious, fresh and tasty meals.
Our best meal was at Daphne’s, near Chelsea and South Kensington. We had called to book a table, foolishly late, but the promised spots at the bar were waiting for us half an hour later. We sipped house wine while perusing the menu and eavesdropping wildly on the two young women sitting next to us. (Apparently £12,000 is NOT too much money to spend on new draperies!)
Our friendly barman steered us to better glasses of wine to have with our meals. We split Burrata con Pomodorini e Focaccia, which would have been enough by itself for a meal for me. The cherry tomatoes were crimson and jewel-like with a deep, succulent taste of Italian sunshine. The bread was slightly charred, with a wafting of garlic. The burrata cheese was the lightest, freshest combination of mozzarella and cream.
I progressed to my main course, Spaghetti con Datterini e Basilico. Yumsters. Datterini are small, sweet tomatoes and are similar to dates in shape. They were delicious and fresh mixed with the airy pasta, basil and divine olive oil. Best Beloved had pasta as well: the more adventurous Pappardelle con Ragu di Cinghiale, which are wide pasta noodles with wild boar. He assures me he has never had anything quite so wonderful.
https://www.daphnes-restaurant.co.uk/
[slideshow id=136]
Daphne’s was a pretty suave spot, and I am glad that I was stylish in my vintage Armani jacket when seated with the expensive curtain shoppers. I was more comfortable a couple of days later, in my jeans and slicker, when we joined up with the charming folks at the Garden Museum. We were going to celebrate the Jubilee River Pageant at the museum by having a buffet lunch in the garden. Unfortunately it was raining, so we had a fantastic feast inside the building, which is the deconsecrated church of St Mary-at-Lambeth on south bank of the Thames in London.
We thought we were so clever, choosing the other side of the river, so we could be away from the crowds and quite easily wave to the Royal Family. I am a silly, naïve American. The throng was 6 people deep when we finally moseyed to the Museum. We had spent the morning at The Museum of Science and Natural History, and the Victoria and Albert Museum, soaking up dinosaurs, dodoes, culture and ball gowns, when we should have been staking out our claim along the river. It was a huge, roiling mob scene!
We hadn’t counted on the calm Garden Museum folks, who greeted us warmly. They were not as fervent as the growing multitude outdoors. The former church was decorated with absurdly large artificial flower light fixtures, Union Jack bunting galore and yes, there was a big flat screen TV in the middle of the room. We all watched it with an eye to when we should move outdoors to see the Queen and her entourage glide down the river. In the meantime, we concentrated on the food and drink, which was all organic and vegetarian and some of it was grown right there in the garden. I had a superbly fluffy pillow of a scone with buckets of clotted cream and lashings of zesty strawberry jam. Best Beloved consumed an enormous mushroom and asparagus pie with a rocket salad.
https://www.gardenmuseum.org.uk/
We watched the active children and the busy parents and the old ladies who must have remembered the Coronation in 1953. We felt like we were being welcomed into an eccentric church congregation. Everyone seemed to be wearing bright green Wellington boots. Some of the children had Union Jacks painted on their faces. Some of the women were decked out in fashions from the 1950s. And there were hats that would make a Red Hot proud.
Some of the brave-hearted climbed the 150 scary, narrow medieval steps to the tower to watch the Queen and the hundreds of boats go past. We ambled out to the road, and stood on a traffic divider to watch the mighty gilded boat go by, and we did see the Queen and Prince Philip, but only for a few seconds. And then we went back inside to have another snack.
That was our guiding philosophy for our visit to the UK: snack often and well. And try to have some more beer. And just so you know that I am not some sunny Pollyanna, I will advise you all to avoid Harry’s Café Bar on Picadilly. Expensive inferior wine, disgusting bathrooms, indifferent staff and NO BAR SNACKS!!! https://www.henryscafebar.co.uk/Home.aspx
That was a particularly galling experience considering we had enjoyed ourselves mightily earlier that evening, before the theatre, at J. Sheekey Oyster Bar and Restaurant. Their philosophy is: “Our fish are responsibly caught from sustainable sources.” We should have just gone back there after the play, instead of exploring the town. It was sleek and elegant. I can say that the Prosecco was marvelous, and Best Beloved will tell you fine things about the oysters. It was the perfect thing to do before an evening of Noel Coward. https://www.j-sheekey.co.uk/
We did see the Queen one more time. We spent the morning strolling through the National Gallery, visiting the vast painting collection, when we thought we should go outside and watch the coach procession from Westminster back to Buckingham Palace. Once again we had not strategized well. The police had blocked in the space at Trafalgar Square, and we were not permitted to wander down to the Mall to join in the festivities with the kabillions of folks already there. We traipsed back through the National Gallery over to the nearby National Portrait Gallery, and took the lift to the top floor restaurant. And there we enjoyed more Prosecco, bar snacks and a view of the Royals trooping back to the Palace. Life was very good.
“People have died from hiccups, you know.”
– Noël Coward, Hay Fever
Write a Letter to the Editor on this Article
We encourage readers to offer their point of view on this article by submitting the following form. Editing is sometimes necessary and is done at the discretion of the editorial staff.