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Zurich: Caduff's Wine Loft

Caduff's Wine Loft
Kanzleistrasse 126
CH-8004 Zürich

Date of Last Visit: Friday, June 26th

The Victim: Former London restaurant blogger Howard

The Damage: A lot. It was all in Swiss Francs so honestly, I have no idea.

The Background: You remember Howard, right? Howard of Food & Drink in London? Well, he's moved to Zurich, Switzerland. And I needed to be in Switzerland for a wedding that required all sorts of planes, trains and automobiles to get to, so I figured I'd fly to Zurich on Friday night, have dinner with Howard, and then head to Bellinzona on Saturday. A good plan.

Howard has chosen the restaurant. He's also on-call for work for the evening, which I'm a bit worried about. What if I end up eating alone? Defeats the whole purpose of the pit-stop, no? Luckily, I needn't have worried.

The Entrance: Caduff's is large and airy and light during the daylight. Once the sun goes down, it gets really really dark in the restaurant. Practically only candle light. Really. It was very dark. We're shown a table in the back corner and I start to eavesdrop on the very international crowd while we start looking things over.

 

The Weinkeller: Caduff's is famous for it's Weinkeller. I forget how many bottles they boast, but it's a lot. Our server sends us downstairs to pick our bottle. Now this is fun. Lots of dusty bottles lying around, and a very nice and very multi-lingual host to help us out. Howard is up for spending some cash. I'm not, and I think he will remain forever disappointed in me because of this. Sorry, Howard. We eventually agree on a half bottle of something I can't remember. (I am trying to take it easy because I have to get up at the crack o'dawn the next day. And we've already had a beer at my hotel and then aperitifs at the restaurant. And we're getting something by the glass for our starter. And I just know already that there will definitely be a dessert wine.)

The Starters: See how dark the restaurant is getting? That's a very generous portion of scallops with a lot of breadcrumbs (which you can't see) covered in summer truffles. Lots of summer truffles this month. The scallops are large. But they taste a little old or maybe just a little overcooked. Also, I kinda think the presentation is a bit 1980s roadside inn. Some sort of clamshell on a bed of sea salt. Hmm. It's good. I suppose.

The Mains: Howard and I get the same thing...pigeon wrapped in cabbage served on ratatouille. This is a hugely generous portion. I end up giving half of my pigeon to Howard, it's so big. And the pigeon isn't as tender as I imagined it being. It's tough. Not dry. But not tender. And there's so much ratatouille. I am a little overwhelmed. I take a disliking to the cabbage wrapped around the pigeon. I sorta regret my order and wish I had opted for the vegetarian pasta something or other instead.

The Verdict: This is probably a good place for one of those work dinners where you have to entertain 10 people from 10 countries. The Weinkeller alone is pretty cool. Food-wise, I applaud the restaurant's "local, seasonal" ethos, but taste wise...eh. Not for me. That being said, it was great to see Howard again. I THINK I may have convinced him to start a Zurich restaurant blog. He takes such awesome photos and is an excellent writer. Don't you think he should?

Nuno Mendes The Loft

Nuno Mendes The Loft
Google the details.

Date of Last Visit: Friday, April 3rd, 2009

The Victims: Q, Canadia Boy, Stacey, Eric, Sarah, Stuart, Steffi

The Damage: £100 each.

The Background: Q likes to drink tea. He e-mails me one day in early March to tell me that he was drinking tea at TeaSmith the other day, and Nuno Mendes (the former chef at Bacchus) was there. Apparently, they know each other from drinking tea around town. Well, Nuno tells him about his new London venture: The Loft. It's a supper club. And we're invited.

One thing leads to another. I invite Canadia Boy and Stacey. Canadia Boy invites Eric (Chilango Eric) and Sarah and Stuart and Steffi. And hence it is how we all find ourselves at Nuno's Supper Club in, well, his loft.

But when we get there, there's a surprise! The infamous Ms. Marmite Lover is also there. I'd met her a few weeks earlier at Tsuru and let the Nuno thing slip. She'd followed up on my tip and now here she was, in a journalistic capacity, working on a new project and with a big fancy camera.

So...it begins..we're treated to some Proseco. And we chat and chat. And then the gougeres arrive. Served by Nuno himself. God I love gougeres. How can anyone not? They're warm and light and served on spoons--and by the chef. In his home. Not a restaurant. His home. It's a perfect start to an amazingly outstanding evening...you can probably tell that already by the tone of my review, huh?

We take our seats at the dining table, reluctantly. One of the things I loved most about the evening was how, on our initial arrival, we all chatted, amicably, in the loft's kitchen. Just like as if we were over with friends. That's the feeling behind The Loft. It's like being at the most intimate of dinner parties, with Nuno serving the role as gracious host.  

The Food: And so it begins. And before I start, let me just tell you that it all ends six hours later, when I arrive home from Nuno's, by mini-cab, around 1:30 a.m.

Words are going to really fail me to describe what we had at The Loft on Friday night. You know I eat out a lot. And if you've been following me long enough, you know that I only have so many adjectives. Truly, the food we ate was so different and interesting and thoughtful that my words in comparison will be useless. I e-mailed Nuno the next day to ask for the menu, and the nouns only tell half the story.

When we sit, there is flat bread--sort of like that Sardinian flat bread, but not--and it's sprinkled with coffee. It's nice and light and perfect. And then there's toasted bread with romesco and I am hard-pressed to not pick up a spoon and eat all the romesco directly.

One of our first "courses" arrives...marinated mackerel, avocado, daikon, and crispy ponzo. The mackerel, one of my favorite things, is perfect and meaty and oily. The ponzo is a great contrast.

 

Later, one of the most inventive dishes of the evening arrives (in my humble opinion). It's a prawn with seared gambon, chunky miso fennel, prawn juices and orange. We all put the prawn in our mouths and then squirt the prawn juices in. It's a fantastic combination of crunchy, salty, and sweet.

 

Back to the kitchen...I take a photo of Nuno making his onion soup moderne. You'll have to experience this dish for yourself. I won't ruin the surprise.

 

Back to the table...(and bear in mind I've skipped some courses here or else you'd be here forever)...there's a scallop with aubergine roe consomme and truffle. Now I'm not sure if that's aubergine AND roe or "aubergine roe." But suffice it to say, it was delicious. But then again, I love aubergine. It had me asking Nuno if he'd spent a lot of time in Japan. (Some, he explains, but really, he's spent a lot of time with Japanese chefs.)

After the mackerel, my favorite dish of the evening is the seabream. It's seabream and LAMB. Yes, lamb. Lamb belly. With mussels. I would never think to serve seabream and lamb together, but what he's done with the lamb makes it work beautifully. The lamb is in soft piles under the fish and it's salty and delicate and (are you ready?) perfect.  

 

We lose a few members of our team around midnight (trains, babysitters), which leaves just a few of us to enjoy the second of the two puddings at The Loft that evening. It's a little white chocolate cake? Cake doesn't seem to describe it well-enough. But it's served with black olives and passion fruit and although you would never think the three would go together, they do. Wonderfully so.

 

The Loft's Loos: Molton Brown products. That's more than you get at some high-end restaurants.

The Verdict: There are nights that you wish could go on forever. Where you want the trains to keep running and the babysitters to stay so that no one will leave. Where you think that ten courses should be twenty and that you can never have enough wine.  This was one of them. You should try to get your place at Nuno's table at The Loft today.

Le Café Anglais

Le Café Anglais
8 Porchester Gardens
W2 4DB

Date of Last Visit: Tuesday, March 24, 2009

The Victims: Charlie, Lizzie, Niamh

The Damage: Only to my liver

The Background: I know a few things about Le Café Anglais before embarking upon my inaugural visit and review. I know that it is in a shopping mall. I know that it used to be a McDonald's. And I know that it's owned by a guy named Charlie who told me that the walk from Sambrook's Brewery to The Westbridge would only take five minutes.

Charlie is a liar.

Nevertheless, he is a very generous liar, and he also seems to be the owner (or one of the owners?) of Le Café Anglais and he has invited me to dinner--over Twitter no less--and I cannot say no. Anything, you know, is better than a dinner of pretzels and hummus from my local Turkish grocery store. Although I do love pretzels.

The Entrance: I head west and arrive at Le Café Anglais nearly on time. I run into Lizzie in the entranceway and we make our way upstairs to say hi to Charlie and enjoy some bellinis and wait for Niamh. I ask Charlie where the Mickey D registers/tills used to be (up front, towards Bayswater, he tells us) and I admire the windows, which are, apparently, original.

Le Café Anglais is a big space. And there are lots of big tables. Tables for four. Tables for six. If you're even the tiniest bit posh, you should bring your grandparents here when they come to visit you in London. You'll like it. They'll like it. It will be perfect.

The Food: And so it begins. Charlie eats at Le Café Anglais all the time. So I really don't even bother with the menu. I think I might have volunteered that I like anchovies and bacon and I don't like mushrooms. That's about it.

The starters arrive--that's SOME of them in the top photo--and I do fall in love with the parmesan custard with anchovy toasts. It's the type of dish that tempts me to cook. Anchovies? Toast? Surely, I can make "anchovy toast."

And then the parade of food arrives. I was overwhelmed. If not for Charlie's notes, I would be sitting here telling you that I ate some eel and bacon and then some fish that had been mashed through a special machine that I'm convinced does not exist and then I ate some cheese and drank some Vouvray and then, well, then I went home.

And then YOU could call ME a liar.

Or perhaps...economical with the truth. Because we had a lot of dishes. A lot. Like enough to make me consider--however briefly--the London Marathon. Because surely, if I were training for a marathon, I could eat like this all the time.

Here, the warm salad of eel and smoked bacon. Eel is seriously one of my favorite things. (Separate, but related...eel and goat...you will see them many places this year, and everywhere next year. I predict. And for those of you who read The New York Times, I was totally down with the goat (minds out of gutters please) before they were.)

Spinach Mousse with Salsify and Morels...I love spinach. I mean, really, like Popeye. And I loved this creation of spinach. It was really lovely and different and interesting. (I also love this photo where I'm taking a photo of Lizzie taking a photo of spinach mousse.)

Middle White Pork and Apple Sauce. I stole some more of the crispy bits while no one was looking.

A cheese plate...a fantastically beautiful cheeseplate of Brie de Meaux, Chèvre St Maure, Duckett’s Caerphilly, Fourme d’Ambert, Lancashire, Montgomery Cheddar, Parmigiano-Reggiano and St Marcellin. I just with there had been little paper signs on toothpicks.

Custard Tart with Prunes. Now this was nice and comforting and homey and everything right about dessert. Except for prunes. Prunes are evil.

The Loos: I remember using the loos--only very vaguely because really copious amounts of wine were consumed--and thinking, "Hmmm. These are okay. But they can do better. They should visit The Ledbury." Power washing...Charlie, if you're reading this, it's the future.

The Verdict: This is a tough review to write. A. I can't really complain because it was free and B. I can't complain because the anchovy toasts and parmesan custard have seriously changed my life and C. I can't complain because I've never experienced a cheeseplate like that and D. I can't complain because our host dipped into his private wine collection for us.

But I can probably say...
Somebody REALLY likes radishes. Personally, I'm not a huge fan.
I would have a hard time eating here alone. It's just so BIG.
We never did get that tour of the kitchen.
We didn't meet the chef.
And the duck was only okay.

But really, you should go for the parmesan custard and anchovy toasts alone.

Wish, Miami Beach

  

Wish
At The Hotel
801 Collins Avenue
Miami Beach, FL 33139

Date of Last Visit: Friday, December 19th

The Victim: Dad

The Damage: $150

The Background: These Florida posts are a long time coming. I only just finished them all. Enjoy!

I've just flown in from London. I've convinced my dad that we should spend the night in Miami and be tourists. I don't actually expect him to say "Yes" to this. But he does!

I have visions and plans of prepping our restaurant list in advance. But somehow, I never quite get to this. So we rely on our concierge, who sells me on Wish because he says it's "French-Brazilian." Now doesn't that sound interesting?

The Entrance: Wish is really pretty. It's nicely lit and we have a table out in the courtyard, around a little fountain. I will give them points for ambience. Because after the 10 hour flight, Wish is perfect in its relaxingness.

The Service: Wins us over immediately. She volunteers her favorite items from the menu. She knows the wines by the glass. She's friendly and positive. She gets a nice tip from us at the end of the night.

The Food: Beef carpaccio to start. I've been thinking about the carpaccio at Richard's for days and am sucked right in once I see it here on the menu. It's nice. My dad and I fight over the last piece. I order the grilled swordfish as my main, and it's now too dark for any of my photos to come out nice without being all flash. It's served with bok choy and cauliflower. The vegetables aren't very exciting. They're like wedding reception vegetables. Just steamed. Nothing else. I'm not impressed. And my swordfish is salty. Very salty.

Some More Background: According to their Web site, Wish was voted one of the 50 best new restaurants in the world by Conde Nast Traveler. I think that was a long time ago.

The Verdict: I liked the atmosphere and the service. I liked the carpaccio. Not so keen on my main, and if you don't like your main, well, what's the point really?

Little Bay

Little Bay
171 Farringdon Road
EC1R 3AL
Tel: 020 7278 1234

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, August 3

The Victims: Gerry, Ben, Matt, Carolyn

The Damage: A very reasonable £12 each or so. And that's with more than a few Budvars.

I've been wanting to try Little Bay for ages. I hear it's cheap. And cheerful. So tonight is THE night. I've convinced Gerry and Ben and Matt and Carolyn to come out on a Sunday when we'd all rather be home watching 60 Minutes. If we could. (Sadly, there is no equivalent to 60 Minutes here in the U.K.)

Only thing is, I've told them to meet me at Old China Hand on Roseberry Avenue. Which no longer exists. It's now a Mexican restaurant. And it's closed. (And their chef is Brazilian, just for the record. I asked.)

So really, Little Bay it is.

The Entrance: We say we're five. They consult the book. At length. They sit us down.

The Service: Good. But they forgot the tap water, after telling us twice that "it's coming."

The Food: Three out of five get the vegetable tart and it's hearty. LIke something my mom would make. If she made vegetables tarts. It's honest. And HUGE. And that's all you can ask for for £6.45! Yes, you read that correctly. A plate-sized tart...not just a slice, but a whole tart--with some lettuce thrown on top for good measure--for £6.45. (Presentation isn't really their forte though. Just for the record.)

The Decor: Roman-greco-bodouir. Not my thing. But some people must like it. Oh, and very cheesy music. Think "Take My Breath Away."

The Verdict: I can see the appeal in Little Bay, much like I understand the appeal of frozen dinners and bum bags.

No. 1 City Road

No. 1 City Road
Somewhere around City Road & Worship Street
Not sure of phone number

Date of Last Visit: Monday, July 28

The Victim: Feathers

The Damage: £12 each?

The Background: I work down the street from a strip club. A "For Your Eyes Only." Sometimes we'll see the girls between shifts and what strikes me is that they all look SOOO very very young. Like 18 or younger. And they wear a lot of makeup. And they're very, very, very uniformly tan.

I can't remember what was on this strip of City Road before, but now there's a Travelodge and there's No. 1 City Road. And the strip club, of course. Which gets me wondering...will the girls take their clients out for steak at No. 1 and then repair to the Travelodge? (I know...not all strippers are well...you know what.) Or after a hard night of pole dancing, is a 16 oz sirloin exactly what a girl needs? (The double entendres can go on forever.)

So Feathers and I enter No. 1 City Road and about five people show us to our table. No. 1 is not short on wait-staff. They tell us they've been open for three days. 

The Food: Feathers orders some sort of soup and rhapsodizes about it. It's hot out. I don't need soup. Plus, I don't believe in sharing soup. I get the chicken sandwich and she gets the Reuben. They're both good. The fries are better than I expected. (But remember I've spent the last week eating rice, so the fries are a welcome distraction.) In between, we're checked on a gazillion times while other servers stand in the distance, watching us eat. It's still pretty empty for lunchtime. (Plus it's a a Monday, which doesn't stop our servers from pushing the wine list on us. For the love of God...it's Monday! The liver must rest.)

The Verdict: No. 1 City Road has no soul. It's like eating in a hotel restaurant. My chicken sandwich was fine. There was nothing wrong with it. But It seemed pricey just the same. Oh and al those servers? They all disappeared when we wanted some ketchup. And when it was time to ask for the bill.

Now somewhere, I have a photo of No. 1, but I don't know about you, but my desk is covered with wires that belong to every little device. Every device except my camera phone.

Guest Blog: Galvin at Windows

Galvin at Windows
22 Park Lane
W1K 1BE
Tel: 020 7208 4021

Guest Review by Douglas of Intoxicating Prose. Check back on Monday, May 6th to vote for your favorite guest blogger.

London looks beautiful from above. More precisely, through immaculate windows, 28 floors up, the Queen’s garden looks green, the main streets are cleared of traffic for the marathon, and staccato spring rainstorms reinforce the cosy isolation. Up here it seems that God sieves through a giant scola pasta rather than weeps on the population.

This is my third visit. The first occured before Galvin took the helm. I was six, staying at the hotel below with my parents. I remember being mesmerised by an aqualine, Russian Princess, shoehorned into a mini skirt, shuffling towards the bar, tightly escorted by her elderly, fattened ‘uncle’. Last year was my second, working as a sommelier at a private gastronomic event for hedge fund managers. I watched the affluently be-suited shun glasses of ’96 Dom Pérignon in favour of ’90 Lafite. Ah, the pain of decisions…

During today’s reconaissance, we sit in soft, capacious seats, strong enough to support Dawn French and bolstered with fussily offered cushions. Beaded flutes of Pommery Springtime Rosé gently land. Soothing. The tiny, explosive bubbles echo the patter on the panes. A helicopter dragging a ‘Flora’ banner whirs by. Tomato and multigrain bread is brought in abundance, warmed just enough to melt the beaten butter, and almost too tasty. In fact we greedily partake of in total three servings, followed by crostini with the starters, snugly embalmed in a linen eiderdown.

The Head Chef is Roux Scholar, André Garret, formerly of The Orrery (where Chris Galvin was mentor). Despite the Gallic name, he comes from Bath. His mother was a fan of pianist, conductor, and composer, André Previn apparently. This André continues to carve his culinary career, admitting cravings for the luminosity a Michelin star will bring (and Windows is on the ‘Rising Star’ scoreboard).

Thankfully the old adage, ‘the better the view, the worse the food’ proves untrue amongst the panorama. In fact, despite arriving via a Top Table offer, the food I tried positively distracted me from the world outside. A trio of lightly cooked Duchy of Cornwall rock oysters with seaweed butter, served on a coarse salt landscape, tantalised, surprisingly an improvement on serving them naked. A simple, fruity butternut bisque arrived in a sauce boat, elegantly decanted around the beach of a ravioli island sporting a parsley palm.

Two glasses of Vouvray followed the Champagne. This distinct, off-dry Loire white from a one horse town with voluminous cellars had a distinct, deep aroma tally of undercooked apple crumble and a taught palate evoking damp cashmere. Curiously, but to my favour, the Sommelier filled our glasses unevenly. The wine list has, expectedly, some unbearably lofty mark-ups, but offers reasonable value around £20-£30, particularly with white bottles. My guess is that most corporate charge-card diners don’t pause for financial concern, patting the vinous celebrities at whatever cost.

For the main courses, I enjoyed hearty, braised lamb shank, which was extroadinarily succulent, the meat meltily flaking into satisfying fronds. I sucked the soft marrow from the protein bagpipes afterwards, feeling illicit, savouring the pleasurable grey goo. It could have been caviar. My companion had “perfect” Pollack fillet, soft, flocculent, in genre fitting somewhere in between haddock and halibut. This was served with very green broccoli florets.

Puddings were artistically crafted, particularly my cool dark chocolate tower with brittle cocoa shard sail and river of pureed pistachio. This was bisected by alcoholic cherry stepping stones. My companion was pampered with a shivering pannacotta with aromatic Earl Grey sorbet and raspberry jam. A huge pot of cleansing fresh mint tea followed, poured through a gimbled strainer from New York which I was very tempted to steal (I have a thing for tea time accoutrements). Then, a silver raft of petits fours, including pulverised Madagascan vanilla truffle. A clear bonbon jar of coconut flavoured marshmallows came in time to sweeten a bill just below £100.

Service, by aesthetically diverse staff, occasionally veers from attentive to obtrusive; in fact we resorted to whispers early on (there is no ambient music, not even a Previn melody). The chairs are unergonomic, being a little low, with high arms. And the décor, whilst smart, could be described as drab, especially the entrance, which feels a stuck in the ‘80’s. The designer obviously has a love of brown.

Overall, however, watching clouds disperse then reappear, then sunshine blink through, Galvin provides an enduring, luxury vantage with really enjoyably edible food.

Many thanks again to Douglas of Intoxicating Prose for providing this guest review while I take some time off. Check back on Tuesday, May 6th to vote for your favorite guest blogger!

Modern European: No. 5 Cavendish Square

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No 5 Cavendish Square
5 Cavendish Square
W1G 0PG
Tel: 020 7079 5000

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, January 20th

The Victims: 13 of them

The Damage: £50ish.

The Background:It is Muna's birthday and we are surprising her with dinner at No 5 Cavendish Square. There are 13 of us and she is floored when she walks in and sees all of us. I lose track of the number of times she says "Thank you guys sooo much" durinng the course of the evening.

Starters: We are off to a strong start. My pea soup is thick and rich and there's a nice little crispy puddle of fried onions and garlic in the middle. Consensus is mixed around the table, however. Sam thinks it needs salt. Muna says it is too rich. I, in my Goldilocks ways, think it is just right.

Mains: Ugh. Black cod miso. It just doesn't look right. The fish looks ill. I eat about 1/3 and leave the rest behind. It is served on a bed of salty Asian noodles. Too salty for me. I am disappointed.

Dessert: It looks old. It tastes old. Part of me wonders if they prepared the dessert...a trio of chocolate...at 10 am and left it out all day to serve at 10 p.m.

Service: We are dining with a number of Muslims (obviously so) and Jen and I are abstaining in January. The servers might be trying to be cute about their reactions to the way we continuously decline the wine list, but then they are just annoying. How many times did I have to explain no alcohol? About five times too many. Also, they were not keen on my tap water request and kept foisting bottled water on us. After a few attempts on my part to get tap refills, I gave up. £4.50 a bottle. We drank £18 quid of water. That's disgusting. 

Also, one server kept touching me. She kept putting her hands on my shoulders. I was ready to slap her. I don't often get angry.

Ambiance. Its a cool place. It's like eating in a mansion. A red and gold leaf mansion. There's a club downstairs that was just filling up with pretty young things as we made to depart around midnight. I felt fat.

The After-affects: I texted Julie and Jen the next morning to let them know that I felt ill--hungover, actually--which was odd considering that I hadn't drank anything but water the night before or in the days and weeks before. Jen texted back immediately...oddly enough, she too felt hungover and just told her boyfriend that a few hours earlier. A mild case of food poisoning? (I was fine by 2 p.m.) Interestingly, Jen and I ate completely different things--besides for the bread that was served with something pico-de-gallo-esque.

The Verdict: Yeah, probably not.

Trendy: Village East

Village East
171-173 Bermondsey Street
SE1 3UW
Tel: 020 7357 6082

Date of Last Visit: 30 November 2007

The Victim: Andrew

The Damage: Unknown! Andrew paid.

The Background: Andrew suggested meeting up at Village East for dinner. I have never been to the end of Bermondsey High Street--I've stepped no farther than The Garrison--and I am intrigued. A look at the Village East Web site has me even more intrigued. This place looks cavernous...many different lounging areas. That's the floor plan from the Web site in the image. I love floorplans.

I arrive a little late and am relieved that I am no later than Andrew. I hate being late. (You probably know this already.) I get a glass of something white and French and settle in at the White Bar by the entrance. I can see that the Lounge Bar is packed to the gills. Andrew arrives shortly thereafter and does the gentlemanly thing and swaps out my card for his on the tab. Only thing is...when they give me back my card, it is SO NOT my card. Funny. I get a little worried about credit card fraud.

So let me tell you about the atmosphere at Village East. It isn't as big as the floor plan online makes it seem..it's cozier somehow. It's very Scandinavian warehouse. There is a lot of wood and interesting lights and Danish furniture. You might know that I am a sucker for Danish modern, so I like the look of Village East off the bat.

We are shown to our table in the back and I am surprised...the front of Village East is packed. Not so the back. It's maybe half-full, although later on in the evening, all the tables do perk up.

The Service and The Starters: Our server is great. She is knowledgeable and smart. It kinda seemed like she was in the wrong line of work, and I wondered if she had an aptitude for finance. That being said, I was trying to decide between the scallops & chorizo or the pumpkin soup and she suggested the pumpkin soup because it was so dreadful outside. The pumpkin soup--which seemed to have some spinach ravioli at the bottom of it?--was really nice, but it just wasn't for me. Oh, and it also arrived about three minutes after we ordered it, which was weird. I felt a little rushed. Our server apologized for that...it wasn't her fault, it was the kitchen's.

The Mains: For mains, I chose the sea bass and it came with asparagus (out of season, but nice just the same) and slices of orange and grapefruit. I accidentally ate a slice of grapefruit and it was so so so very bitter, it was awful. I choked up on it. Weirdly, I had some problems with the cutlery...I don't know if my plate was on an angle or if there was just no lip on the plate, but as I would cut into the dish, my fork would fly across the plate and land in my lap. This was weird.

The Dessert: Dessert was lemon tart and it was nice. But just nice. It came with a scoop of ice cream and the ice cream was MELTED which was odd. Why would they serve melted ice cream? That's no fun.

All this was washed down with a bottle of something white and French that I fear was dreadfully expensive. Hmmm.

The Verdict: The food was nice. Lots of people would like it. If I were going out with a group of single girlfriends, or maybe some NYers, I would consider taking them here. I probably wouldn't go out of my way though.

A Penny Saved: The Clerkenwell Dining Room

69 St John Street
EC1M 4AN
020 7253 9000

Date of Last Visit: Tuesday, 27 November 2007

The Victims: Marcos, Colleeen, Isabelle, Aya, Nanta, Christine

The Damage: More about this later.

The Background: So more than a year ago, I got big time suckered into a Taste London card. £40 or something for a green and black plastic card that gets you discounts at restaurants around town.

This made me bitter because TopTable.co.uk doesn't charge you anything for discounts...so £40...hmmm...steep.

And then for the kicker--Taste London auto-renews your subscription, so you get stuck with it for another year if you're not paying attention.

But you know...I say "got stuck with it" very loosely because after our dinner at The Clerkenwell Dining Room on Tuesday--with our 50% discount--I'm sorta hooked! This was a very nice dinner for seven for £170 quid. That's £24.29 each. Not so bad. Sure, we went light on the wine and only 28.6% of us had dessert, but six out of seven of us had a starter. And all of us had coffee. So £24.29 each is a good value. Let me tell you some more.

The Entrance: They take our coats. This place is a lot fancier than I thought it would be. I'm in jeans and trainers. The patrons are all doing business in their cufflinks over their sea bass. Ack...the drawbacks of working for an "everyday is casual day" company.

The Service: Is SURLY. I accidentally tell them we're eight people, not seven. And they reset that table like they were about to walk the plank. It was funny.

The Starters: Mine was squid. It was okay. Better was the salad that it was served along with. Zingy.

The Mains: I went for the sea bass and it was a hugely generous portion and it was served with three HUGELY insane scallops. (No cutting in half to make them look like more here.) I was really impressed with the portion size and the general tastiness. I looked around later and there wasn't a scrap of food left on the table.

The Tap Water Test: Our surly server brought the jug, poured me a glass, and then took the jug away. Others at the table fell for "Still or Sparkling?" and when I wasn't looking, the server filled my glass up with paid-for still water. I was HAD. Don't let this happen to you.

The Verdict: I would take a business dinner here. Particular ones where there are Americans present and they are a bit sensitve about the exchange rate. (£1 = $2.07 according to Google today.) And I would use my TasteLondon card again. It takes a little bit of planning (the first couple of places we tried on Tuesday afternoon were booked) but it's worth it.