Roka is part of an ever expanding chain of zenith-class restaurants owned by German restaurateur, Rainer Becker. He also happens to own the Zuma line of luxury restaurants. Since he opened Zuma in 2002, and then Roka two years later, his highly acclaimed brand of refined Japanese cuisine has gone strength to strength, now Zuma and Rokas have expanded to Hong Kong, and in 2009, a new Roka in Canary Wharf, right in the heart of fatcatland. I was a little sceptical at first, especially since I had only heard nice things being said about Becker’s restaurants, I do love Japanese food (Sushi Hiro is still the best this side of West London, yo), it’s just that I had to experience it for myself, before I started swooning with the rest of town. And so I did.
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Technorati Tags: Japanese, london, restaurant, review, roka, totenham court road
Posted in: Fusion, Japanese, London Restaurant Reviews
Sir Joshua Reynolds, the 18th century painter held the view that defining good art required standardisation and classification. He argued in one of his discourses on art that general beauty makes more sense than particularities because it was rational and because that’s how the human mind operates. Of his most famous critics was William Blake who replied to his notion of general beauty that “To generalise is to be an idiot; To particularize is the alone distinction of merit” Yes, I have finally eaten myself to madness. I once held the view that London was the gastronomic capital of the world. I have had some wonderful meals in the last eight years in the city, defending the Big Smoke’s reputation against naysayers. London restaurants naturally become my benchmark when defining a good meal. Generally speaking, there are lots of great places to eat in the city, but I just wonder if we examine the city’s gastronomic landscape through a microscope, would the finer details alter the general aesthetic?
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Technorati Tags: london, restaurants, standard, Type of Cuisines, world
Posted in: Featured, Food Articles
I perform too much of a ritual when I am about to travel to pay valuable attention to the eating at all, let alone eating well. Flying elicits all kinds of emotional responses, my brain becomes strangely reflective of the past x number of months since I was last bumping in the clouds. Time slows to a halt, especially in the last couple of days running up to actual act of flying when it becomes an all encompassing sensory event, as if I was being me for the very last time. Insomnia ensues. Mostly because I had spent the last few days caught up in the indissoluble cinema of my life but otherwise, probably because I had spend the final night so urgently packing away comfort items I think I need. The toothbrush, hairgel, the latest monocle, the moleskine, red pants, iPod cable, my faber castells. Then there is the list of would-like-tos scribbled on a note which is next to indecipherable, something which I had hastily prepared during breakfast, coffee stains still very fresh. I fail to see the point of airport fine dining.
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Technorati Tags: airport, Heathrow, london, restaurant, review, Rhubarb, Terminal 3
Posted in: Featured, London Restaurant Reviews, Modern British
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