Paradoxically tempered tea, univalved porridge and nitro-blasted savoury puddings have no place in Heston Blumenthal’s rather quaint, rather modest pub, situated just next to The Fat Duck. This true-to-its-roots establishment can trace its history as far back as four hundred years, including being the assembly point for Prince Phillip’s stag do just before he married Her Majesty. The spirit of The Hind’s Head is a direct contrast to the modernity of the Fat Duck. The Anti-Fat Duck as it were. It comes as little surprise that, after visiting Blu’s triple starred shrine, I felt compelled to return to a week later to give his other take on Brit-cuisine a go. Back to Bray

It must be the name. It does something to the wiring of my brain causing me to associate it with many adjectives such as magnificence, opulence, ecstasy, paradise, exorbitance, Sophie Dahl. It must also be the attractive old-world quality it exudes, a quality which has ensure commercial and critical success, over its seven year history

The Fat Duck is Britain’s most famous restaurant, widely regarded as one of the best in the world. Its owner is the indomitable Heston Blumenthal. A pioneer of the very cutting edge of gastronomy, his name synonymous with perfection. Last weekend, I ate at his three michelin starred restaurant, and this is what I discovered

It has been at least a year since I last visited Great Queen Street, a restaurant which I frequented in 2008. Still signage-free and firmly offline, the low profile hasn’t kept No.32 from becoming the establishment it is today. Owned by chef/writer Tom Norrington-Davies, he has made 32 a name for its nameless self by serving slick food with a decidedly British feel, revered all around and critically acclaimed, and I love it too. Afterall, I thought their crabs on toast was the very best thing I ate in

There are five restaurants inside the beast of a hotel that is Andaz. Situated right in the heart of the square mile, a part of town where I periodically get lost in. I did as I usually do to turn to my trusty GPS when I exited Liverpool Street station. This would be my third visit to the Hyatt owned hotel, based in a Victorian building dating back to the late 19th century. Once the Great Eastern Hotel back in the day. Red brick allegedly. It always takes me for a jog around the block before deciding to get serious. Machines. Just when you need them to do what they’re told, they do the hot stuff. Cast your mind back to the dizzy days of 2009 and you will recall I was invited to 1901 once upon a time. 1901 being the flagship out of the five restaurants within Andaz. I was even given a tour of the guts of a 19th century hotel, which is by far the funkiest part of the invite. All the rooms inside are somehow interconnected. Walls hide secret doors which open to neverland, and alternate universes. There are secret trap doors, dungeons and pleasure rooms. I’m obviously kidding about dungeons. Generally, I liked the food, though the grandiose space spooked me a little… anyway, the PR machine dropped me another invitation to try Catch,

There is money behind J Sheekey. The ultimate owner, Richard Caring bought the Caprice galaxy of restaurants, amongst other things for a cool £30m in 2005 with a view to transform it into a superbrand of luxury eateries. This very group also includes some old time establishments such as Le Caprice and the Ivy which at some point in history represented the pinnacle of fine dining and celeb watching in London. Observers (Camilla Long for the Times) had already noted his master plan to turn this group of highly polished establishments into a synchronised design for the discerning taste master and occasional Londoner. Whatever the case, the high production values behind J Sheekey and it’s sister restaurants (both in London and elsewhere) must be working. A swift google search will bring up at least a handful of glowing remarks on this historic restaurant which has been serving fish to the public from the same site since the late 1800s. As recently as late 2008, Sheekey had expanded their premises to include an all wood, all shiny brass Oyster bar next to it’s dining room, though it is interesting to read up on reports which claim that Josef Sheekey, a local fishmonger and the original owner, had started his eponymous brand as an oyster bar anyway

The first email from Ffiona’s PR lady was a succinct one liner in which she asked if I wanted to know more, and inquired about my publicly available site stats. Naturally, I replied with a link to my numbers and an obligatory yes to her offer. A couple of days later, Ffiona (the owner, hence the name) followed up on my reply with a personal pitch about her restaurant. She started her message by establishing both our passion for the edible things. Her pitch was much shorter than the milliards of superlatively written releases that I receive and I’ll be honest, I give very time to reading them these days. On the other hand, this was something I read almost halfway through. There was something a touch more personal about her email (or I’m just that gullible). She had told me about her hands on approach to her now sixteen year old labour of love and informed me that many local to the area, consider her restaurant to be the quintessential (ok that’s me paraphrasing now) cosy neighbourhood spot. I was sitting at a hotel lobby in Berlin when I got this and thought it would be nice to check it out

I was introduced to the marketing whiz kids at the Andaz hotel through an associate who was telling me about yet another larger than life pop-up restaurant project to hit the Capital – Bistrotheque setting up a Supersonic Masonic Supper club during London Restaurant Week in October to be exact. Of course, I missed that boat completely. Instead, I found myself taken on a tour of the luxury hotel (formerly the Great Eastern) based in the heart of the square mile, including the five dining establishments within the Andaz brand, and at the end of it, a handshake and an invitation to eat at 1901, which I decided to accept

After decades of humiliation, we can now be taken seriously. Having watched ‘British Cuisine’ re-invent itself on TV complete with Jenny Bond voice-overs; we are now undoubtedly living in the golden age of restaurants proud to be serving British food and proudly pushing local produce. And why not? It makes for moving PR pitches and it allows for fancy farmer names on menus. Canteen takes the concept to the max and have smeared the Union Jack all over the shop like free sachets of HP sauce

I will never be able to afford the Martin 0M-28. The solid mahogany, the musky rosewood and that resonant, clear and crisp ring, I was John Mayer possessed strumming along to ‘No such thing’, now eternally burned into my memory from years of fandom. Achingly, I have to put down the guitar in the shop on Denmark Street and head out to lunch across the road at Giaconda instead, and sit there to dream about legendary guitars seemingly tempting me to empty my wallets. But in recessionary times, I’ve only got enough for a Blueridge, not quite a Martin or a Taylor and definitely not a Cherry Sunburst Les Paul

There are two Toms in London who appeal to me. Both are men of food and both have legends written about their conquests in the kitchen. “Why yes of course I would like to sample an all expense paid meal at Tom Ilic” when their hype department called. Can we stop calling this food blagging and call it a blag-pass instead? It sounds rather more palatable. Read at your peril

This review is way overdue. First of all, wild honey’s reputation precedes them, yet I feel like their presence is still relatively low-key. I think of wild honey as the new wave of modern awesome british restaurants serving exciting food and modernising the sour reputation british food carries. Did I mention their three course set lunch menu is only £