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Morgan M, Plus Some Thoughts on Freebies

Morgan M
489 Liverpool Road
N7 8NS

Date of Last Visit: Wednesday, June 3rd

The Victims: Sarah, Gaby

The Damage: Gaby paid.

The Background: If you haven't noticed, I do like to eat.

But I like exploring more. Some of my favorite posts--the posts I really enjoy writing---are not the ones that are all about a dinner out and a London restaurant review.

I like the adventure posts. The getting-on-a-bus-and-going-somewhere posts. The something different posts. I enjoy a good day out, with multiple stops, some with food. Some without.

When I first started my blog, I borrowed a post from business writer Seth Godin about creating a blog disclosure statement and posted my own on my About page. My Disclosure Statement has gone through various iterations over the years. For a long time, it said something like "I will go out of my way NOT to write about things that other people want me to write about, except when there's a lot of champagne involved." And for somewhat of a shorter time, I removed my Disclosure Statement completely because I felt like I was violating it so utterly and completely.

Case in point. My friend Sarah runs a site for new moms in London. A month or two ago, she went to an event about women in business and met Gaby, who just happens to do PR for restaurants. Sarah says, "You must meet my friend Krista." Gaby knows my work and says something like, "Krista from Londonelicious? I'd love to." And we all arrange to meet up for lunch at Morgan M in Highbury, a place I've always wanted to go to. And a place that Gaby does PR for.

I like Gaby instantly. I want to help her understand bloggers and blogging and Twitter and all those good things. I like Morgan M instantly as well. It's peaceful and relaxing and a great "Ladies who Lunch" sort of place, and you know that I not-so-secretly wish that I were a lady who lunches. Instead, I'm a lady with a full-time job, an addiction to restaurants, and a train that leaves for Paris at 5 p.m. on a Wednesday.

The Entrance: I like how I'm met at the door of Morgan M. and how they take all my belongings away; I've come straight from work with a lot of stuff that I need to run home with after lunch and throw in a suitcase and turn around again and head back to Kings X with. (Are you still with me?)

I like the plates at Morgan M. They're pretty. And I like how while I'm waiting for Gaby and Sarah to arrive, the staff offer me my choice of good magazines. Not bad magazines. Good magazines. (I choose a travel magazine.)

I feel a little pressured to order the tasting menu, which is what Sarah and Gaby opt for. I am on a bit of a diet these days, and really I am not that hungry. Plus I'm heading to Paris and I know I have a multi-course dinner to look forward to. So with some negotiation, I manage to secure just two courses (plus an amuse-bouche) to Sarah and Gaby's five courses (plus amuse-bouche). (Generally, Morgan M prefers that the entire table opt for the tasting menu, but I think I must have looked panic-stricken at the thought of a full menu, so they relaxed their restriction for me.)

The Conversation: After we order, we go back to talking about bloggers and London food and restaurant bloggers and restaurant reviews in particular. Gaby says that she's counted, and there's something like 70 of us London food bloggers these days. I note that she should start looking at the wine bloggers too because for a restaurant like Morgan M with such a nice wine list, I think she's got an additional market.

We talk about the real critics and I learn that although the big ones have budgets and pay-their-own-way, the smaller ones get everything comped. This makes me angry because here I am, paying my way for everything (or, well, nearly everything), and some of the professional restaurant reviewers actually get all their meals for free? But then, I get angry at myself; if I just went around London accepting freebies all the time, I'd kinda feel like somebody's mistress. All the nice things, but no respect in the morning... 

La Creperie de Hampstead

 

La Creperie de Hampstead
77 Hampstead High Street
NW7 1RE

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, 24th of January, 2009

The Victim: Me

The Damage: Less than £5

The Background: Julie and I have just been to California Nails to, well, have our nails done. This place fascinates me because it is ALWAYS full of Americans. I know a lot of Americans live in Hampstead, but surely, there are more British women in Hampstead than American women. Apparently, British women don't believe in getting their nails done. Or maybe they're just boycotting California Nails for some reason.

I try to convince Julie to come with me for a crepe, but she gets lost is some sort of celebrity gossip mag (a rotten excuse if I've ever heard one) and misses our post-manicure rendezvous.

The Entrance: There's a big queue for Le Creperie de Hampstead. (Hereafter known as "The Crepe Cart.") I must have waited at least 15 minutes. When I finally get up to the front of the queue, one of the most unpleasant women of all time takes my order. She must have been having a REALLY bad day. My favorite was when an American dude behind me somewhere in line asked to no one in particular "What does savoury mean?" (We don't use "savoury"so much in the States. Maybe among foodies. But not really otherwise.) The woman at the counter yelled, kinda snottily if you ask me, "WHAT'S SAVOURY? IT'S THE OPPOSITE OF SWEET." I know that means so much sense to a British person, but it really wouldn't have made sense to me five years ago.

The being said, this woman is a WORKHORSE. She is making crepes like there is no tomorrow. She's got an amazing system going. One of these days, I need to go back and take a video. It was that amazing.

The Food: I go for a ham, mushroom, and cheese crepe with tarragon sauce. It takes ages to prepare. One sweet crepe after another goes past me, while I'm still waiting for my ham and cheese. But finally, it arrives...

And it is one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten.

Really. The crepe is nicely toasted all around the edges. It isn't floppy. The tarragon sauce is wonderful. The only thing that could have been better were the mushrooms. They may have been tinned. Honestly, with some fresh button mushrooms, I would have died and gone to heaven. Now I understand the queues.

The Verdict: I will go back here many times. Many.

El Molino

El Molino
379 Holloway Road
N7 0RN

Date of Last Visit:Saturday, November 21st, 2008

The Victim: Me

The Damage: Less than £15

The Background: Muna is getting married soon. It's black tie. I need something to wear. She sends me to one of the most bizarre places in London I have yet to experience. Fonthill Road by Finsbury Park tube.One shop after another, filled with strange and sparkly poufy things.

You know I'm more a Boden-kind-of-gal. Or Banana Republic. Hmmm.

But I'm here. And I need a dress. A long one. It takes me a while. But I persevere. And I'm done at lunchtime! How convenient!

Now, Google Maps. I love Google Maps. I GPS my location. I search for restaurants in the nearby area. And hey, there's a Japanese one. You know I like Japanese food. It's called Hana and it's on Seven Sisters.

And well, at 12 noon, it's not open. So I Google again. And I'm taken to a Spanish place on Holloway Road. So I go.

And I'm the only one there. And no one really seems to speak Spanish, as far as I can tell. (Although maybe it was Catalan?) 

One tortilla. (Very good. Just the right size.) Some croquetas. (OK. Just okay.) And my big mistake...asparagus with bread crumbs, which turned out to be CANNED/TINNED asparagus, deep fried. Revolting. Yuk.

The Verdict: Everyone seems to really like this place. Except for me. But really, the tortilla was good.

Bar Food: Big Red

385 Holloway Road
N7 0RY
Tel: 020 7609 6662

Date of Last Visit: Friday, 18 January

The Victims: Gerry, Ben

The Damage: £10 or so?

The Background: In Chicago, one of my favorite bars in the entire world was Delilah's on Lincoln, just south of Diversey. Great music. Mixed crowd. Excellent beers. (Who doesn't love $2 PBR's???) So when Gerry and Ben were talking about Big Red and the music and the crowd and the bar, I got pretty excited about the prospect of visiting because it sounded a lot like Delilah's. Now, going to a bar when you're taking a break from the sauce is an interesting thing...but out of all the people I've encountered this month thus far, the folks at Big Red gave me the least amount of hassle. Tap water? Fine. Diet Coke? Coming right up. Cranberry and soda? Done. Gotta give 'em credit for not blinking. I get the sense they've seen it all before.

The Entrance: Big Red is dark, and I'm very grateful for the smoking ban. The crowd early in the evening is gentrifying. Later in the evening, it's punk and goth and a little metal thrown in. Plus some dear old regulars, who I have to wonder about. Do they like totally dig Metallica? Because the juke box is playing Metallica. And Muddy Waters. And Talking Heads. And at £1 for three songs, I'm a sucker.

The Food: I go for the burger and fries; Gerry and Ben opt for fajitas, which look much better than they taste, apparently. My burger is serviceable but they forgot to toast the bun, which is unforgiveable. That's a lazy man's burger.

The Decor: The neon promises Coronas and Coors Light, neither of which are to be had. TVs blare "Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill!" It all feels so random, yet so right.

The Loos: Need a power washing. But I've seen worse.

The Verdict: I'll go back for the crowd and the juke box. But first I need some tatoos.

P.S. Added a new post code. N7. Now that hasn't happened in a while.