A free day in Vienna and a hatful of recommendations for lunch, many of which were either closed or impossible to find. My iPhone had given up on data so my life-raft (Google maps) was not the usual powerful tool in my weaponry. Relying on analogue techniques from ancient history: Metro maps, street plans and gut feel, I stumbled across a very posh place next to the KK Hofburg Theater.
A recent Sunday lunch in London lead to a worrying discovery. My favourite haunt for a wine aperitif, 1707 Wine Bar in Fortnum and Mason basement, no longer opens on Sunday.
Forced into trying somewhere new, the Ritz doormen, just along Piccadilly took exception to my smart jeans (yet they tolerate Michael Winner). The Wolseley had welcomed us the day before (and warned me not to darken their door again in a rush). And picking on someone nearer my own age, Madonna’s ex-local didn’t appeal. I wanted wine.
In a frustrated fit of anxiety (that I would have to go to lunch without a wine warm-up) I remembered Selfridges, a mere 10 minute stroll up Park Lane.
Buying an iPhone is a bit like getting married to Pamela Anderson and then finding out she’s done a porno. Almost everything is exquisite, near perfect, round, supple and enticing. But you quickly start finding out that a few assumptions you made were wrong, and everyone knew but you.
Just down the road from the entrance to the Ritz on Arlington St, just off Piccadilly, you will find Le Caprice, a favourite haunt of the stars for several decades. This part of London is over-endowed with decent restaurants. To quaint northerners like me this seems unfair.
The Wolseley is just round the corner, as is Langan’s Brasserie, Claridge’s, Scott’s of Mayfair, and Fortnum & Mason. Meanwhile in the nearby West End, The Ivy, sister to Le Caprice, is undoubtedly one of the best restos in London despite the nouvellement célèbrés and the nouveaux riche who visit only to be seen rather than to enjoy food and wine. So was Le Caprice, part of the group that owns The Ivy, as good as its sibling?
My last (and first) visit to Fortnum & Mason 1707 Wine Bar was such a success, the very next time I was in London I revisited.
This time my flight comprised three Pinot Noirs and I also added a plate of charcuterie to nibble on. At £13 an American would starve on this dish, but the quality soared. The meat was, interestingly, not Italian, the most notable of a good bunch being Gloucester Old Spot Prosciutto which stood up to any Italian prosciutto I have ever tasted.
The Pinot Noirs were all worthy of drinking, for the record:
Fortnum & Mason Bourgogne Rouge Drouhin 2004 – soft and supple, the most subtle of the three with redcurrants and a creamy finish.
Merricks Creek Pinot Noir Victoria 2004 – a powerful strawberry flavour wine, jammy and louder than Ian Paisley in full rhetorical flow.
Pegasus Bay Pinot Noir Waipara 2004 – the most interesting of the bunch. Cherries and some mineral. A bit like the French one but with a bit of kiwi intensity and sharpness.
I couldn’t resist trying one more wine and was pleased to see the Fortnum & Mason Pomerol Clos Rene 2003 served in a Riedel Bordeaux glass from the Vinum range. Black fruits prevailed in contrast to the red fruited Pinots. A bit of cooked cabbage, quite tannic with a long finish. Quite a serious wine as you might expect
I tolerated some rude treatment from the staff because of the excellent pricing policy, £10 corkage being added to the shop price no matter the value of the wine. Clearly the place to go if you fancy a 1961 Latour.
So I award F & M my top prize for least rip-off wine drinking prices in London wine bars or restaurants.
I also enjoy trying the flights of three wines linked by grape and comparing the different treatments. But next time I think up an award, I really must construct a snappier name.
Finally, you don’t have to drink wine, coffee and tea is available. It is also very quiet, so I use it for meetings when I am in Piccadilly/Mayfair. I used to frequent The Wolseley for this purpose but it is nowadays too busy. Oh well, my secret is out. I’ll have to find somewhere new, now. Ciao.
I have never been to the Ritz. This maybe because I can’t afford it, or it could equally be because, to enjoy the Ritz fayre, I would have to bypass The Wolseley, right next door at 160 Piccadilly. This is something I have not yet achieved.
When we arrived at St Alban for Sunday lunch there were only three other tables occupied! This despite the day being the biggest sporting day in the UK calendar – men’s final at Wimbledon, Tour de France starting at Trafalgar Square (just round the corner) that morning, British Grand Prix at Northampton (Silverstone), and me dancing at Live Earth the night before (and that is a rare occasion). This despite the fact that St Alban had telephoned us the day before to push our booking back from 2:0pm to 2:15pm – hmmmm.
Breakfast is the new lunch? Well if you listen to the critics, it seems that they are falling over themselves to review the “breakfast experience”.
I like breakfast. My favourite breakfast ever is bacon with poached eggs, washed down by Earl Grey tea.
So in my search for a great English breakfast in London I tried to book the Wolseley only to find no space at the inn – not even for a celebrity like me!
So we plumped for Simpsons-in-the-Strand which has been serving Londoners English breakfasts since before my forefathers’ forefathers slaughtered their first pig.
Stumble It!