a gastrocentric survival guide for Londoners
We are in the middle of the coldest snap known to mankind. It has decidedly grounded many of us – including the restaurant going republic, in fear that the tipple monster might never lead us home again. Thank the goodens for the dude who invented the neighbourhood cafe, because this means we can venture on nature’s locomotion to fill our tummies without resorting to the perils of mechanical transport.
I say this with full confidence in my testosterone-charged manhood : I enjoy watching romcoms on the silver screen – the cheesier the better. Especially when the protagonist is a successful, young creative (but played by an older dude) who lives in an English speaking metropolis (aka NY) drives a dream car (or bike) and owns a penthouse. And he always manages to hang out at the coolest cafes in town, and the sun is always perfectly warm and vibrant – the image of a perfect afternoon cuppa… does it exist, or does it? Oh and there’s always the girl, this one girl especially. Swoon…
And then one day, while me and my dreamgirl was strolling back from the park, we bumped into this heavenly spot which looks exactly like a hollywood set. Now all I need is Matthew McConaughey’s torso.
In my never ending quest to eat everything, I am fortunately saddled with a curiosity for all manner of restaurants. Take Jack’s for example. Situated next to the farmer’s market in Queens Park (where Cillian Murphy can frequently be seen) , I’ve walked out with a beef burger in hand (superbly grilled by one of the meat mongers) still wanting to try a Jack’s burger while munching on the home-made wholesome farmer’s burger. I’m not a glutton am I?
Let’s google that.
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