Laura "business socks" N.'s Profile

While not as rare is it's namesake, this neighbourhood Thai spot is a pretty tasty little find in the Pimlico area.

Decor was an interesting mix of shabby chic, wicker, and the most intricately folded cloth napkins I've ever come across. Seriously, they should have some sort of "Martha Stewart's Been Here" sticker on their door. Or perhaps crocheted on their tablecloths. Whatevs.

Food was fresh, tasty and well priced. Was I blown away? Let's just say the food wasn't quite as exciting as the napkins, but I would definitely recommend this little find to anyone looking for a reasonably priced non-chain meal in the area.

I'm sure I'll be back, so I'll update you if they in fact implement any of  my super stellar ideas...

There are two Italian restaurants within a stone's of each other throw near the corner of Ebury and Elizabeth street. One was absolutely empty, a server inside pacing anxiously about, doing her best to restrain herself from running out, grabbing us by the wrists, and pulling us inside as we pursued the very expensive menu.

And then there was Oliveto, absolutely packed to the gills, with only one two-top table available at 8pm on Thursday night.

Telling? A bit. Needless to say, we chose Oliveto and were not disappointed.

Starting with the carrot, potato and rosemary soup, we discovered that they had entire wine sections devoted to Sardinia. And entire food sections devoted to Sardinia. And entire pizza menus devoted to, you guessed it, Sardinia.

About half way through our perfectly cooked crab linguine and buffalo mozzarella pizza, we spotted the table to our left devouring cuttlefish with squid ink glaze, and to our right rocking some sea urchin pasta. It only took us a few more painstakingly dense minutes to realise that... hey, this must be a Sardinian restaurant! (I promise, I was the only blond one in the group...)  

I would highly recommend this spot for a easy authentic Italian meal out, a smokin' cheap date (relatively,) or a quick dinner either pre or post show if you're in Victoria. A bit on the pretentious side, but with food this good, I can't blame them!

I grew up in Seattle, the city that brings you this little bite of digestible culture: http://www.youtube.com...

(Time allocated for those who skipped watching the video to go back and watch the frigggggin' video. Do it.)

Aaaaand the plot thins when I insert the fact that I didn't eat fish until I was 20 years old. I thought it was vile. When I was 20 I went on a study abroad program called Semester at Sea, and as you can imagine... seafood was on the daily menu for six months.

After one month of eating the only non-fish alternative (peanut butter and jelly), I gave in. And I still haven't forgiven myself for wasting a full month not eating the most amazing, fresh, delicious fish I've ever had. The reason it was so fantastic was that it was sourced directly from local fishers at each port we called at, so mahi-mahi in Cuba, piranha in Brazil, skate in Cape Town... all the way around to king salmon in Alaska.

My fish from Chelsea Fishmonger brought me right back to my earlier experience. So fresh, so local, so delicious. And most importantly, so ethical. I spoke with an employee for about 20 minutes about their fishing practices which involve, among other responsible things, only stocking fish caught by softer inshore non-destructive fishing methods.

Now I'm not just upset about the one month I didn't eat fish on the ship, I'm upset about the 20 years I didn't know places like Chelsea Fishmonger existed!

Apparently my body has forced itself into mandatory food detox after cramming as many christmas sugar cookies, mashed potatoes, tin-can-cran, chocolate Frangos, candy canes, popcorn and a mulittude of cinnamon candies from bears to hots to disks and everything in between into my mouth over the last few weeks. Yuuuuum -- tastes like Christmas!

In an interesting development that is very unlike me, my body has gone on a veritable food strike, and I've not been able to force myself to eat more than a bowl of Special K the last two days.

Notice, I said "food" detox... not booze. To my glee, apparently I still have the green light there.

That's where Jeroboams comes in. Their flagship shop is right down the street from my f-f-f-f-rrrrrrrrrr-EEEEEzing flat, and there's nothing like a glass of spicy red to warm me up and make me forget about all my lovelies I left on the other side of the pond. They carry some ridiculous numbers of wine (if I had to guess, I say approximately eleventy billion.) And their selection of wines from all over the world, within anyone's price range, is truly fantastic. Cheers!

*Note... this review would make my D.A.R.E. instructor cry. Sorry Officer Oliver. I promise I still wear my t-shirt to bed. Albeit, the room may be spinning when I get there...

Overheard on the Heathrow Express on the way from Heathrow to Paddington Station:

Train Voice: "We will soon be arriving at Paddington Station. Please prepare to collect all of your belongings..."

Tourist to husband: "Ooooh honey, listen! We're going to Paddington, like the Bear! Like Paddington Bear. Just like the teddy bear! Eeeeeiii, awwww, beeeeeaaars!!!! Paddington Bear! Bear bear bear! I had a Paddington Bear once.            

Silence.

Train Voice: "We are now arriving at Paddington Station. Please collect all of your belongings..."

Same Tourist: Awww, Paddington, like The Bear!!

Grumpy English Business Traveler: (under his breath) "No... like the train station ya wanker."

nice.

Ok... so I have to tackle the name first. It doesn't take a UK resident to know that our friends across the pond (your potential hotel guests) may not be inclined to dine at a venue with a name that directly translates to "trash can on the lake." You may as well give them a fanny pack when they arrive. Then tell them you love their pants.

But you've been officially pardoned, because you serve 80 wines by the glass.

80.

Bin uses one of these newfangled Enomatic wine serving systems, where they can preserve open wine bottles for up to 60 days using inert gas. To translate (a theme of this review,) that means that they can serve up anything from from tastes to half bottles, and give picky winos like myself a chance to try multiple samples including the ultra premiums that I could never bring myself to actually purchase.

Need I go on? Beautiful views, 80 wines by the glass, seasonal northwest menu, 80 wines by the glass, happy hour 7 nights a week, 80 wines by the glass, knowledgeable servers who knew their pairings, oh, and they serve 80 wines by the glass.

Carnivores of the world can unite in this buzzing meaty meat meat-centric establishment. Simple decor, open kitchen, communal tables, trendy lighting and mmmmmmmmeat.

So my girlfriend and I ordered fish.
And is was about as anticlimactic as that last sentence.

We were not nearly as impressed as our two boys who serenaded us with primal a meat-ingesting grunting chorus throughout the meal. From the charcuterie to marrow to foie gras marbled steak, they sliced and scraped and slurped and made it very clear that it was meat-tastic.  

We took solace in our brussels sprouts.
And wished we had ordered meat.

This year I resolve to...  

Eat less meat!

...Or not.

While that's a resolution that I know I'll be breaking, on the very last day of the year there's no better marketing campaign for going veggie (or even... gasp... vegan...) than Cafe Flora.

With a menu chock full of vegan, vegetarian and gluten free delights, I skeptically spied several items that sounded to good to be, well, good. Turns out they weren't good - they were fantastic. So much so that I'm truly questioning whether or not going veggie is as noble as it seems.

I mean, if I *had to* eat a pear and gorgonzola pizza with walnut parsley pesto, sweet onion confit and balsamic reduction to help save the World, it's a sacrifice I guess I could consider...

I'll tell you what -- I'll buy the cookbook on Amazon and report back, after ahem, extensive research.

Have you ever dated an older man? I mean, a *much* older man?

I can only assume there's something classically attractive about the traditional. Something endearing about the expected. You could seek refuge in the comfort of wood paneling and tweed. You could nuzzle into the fact that you'd likely be the best dressed of any room and be the "adventurous eater" if you didn't order salmon. (Choosing a seasonal fish that involved pineapples and ginger is synonymous with livin' on the edge.) You could watch innumerable picture perfect sunsets overlooking yacht clubs, golf clubs, country clubs, (insert pretentious) clubs, all of which make him feel right at home.

I considered a brief courtship from Anthony. But in the end, I just couldn't get behind the idea that my parents would relate to him more than I ever could.

I've never agreed with the term "savage." It never seemed to resound with the subject it was describing. Until now.

These sandwiches are savage.

Perhaps you're more comfortable with synonyms of barbaric, unrestrained, unmodified, vicious. However Bunk seems to be better described by its antonyms: calm, civilized, domesticated, tame, because these sandwiches are anything but.

I should warn: do not go here if you are looking for anything healthy -- there's a reason that Jared chose the bland assembly line of Subway to lose his weight.

But if you are looking to cure your gut bomb cravings, a Sloppy Roast Beef Po'Boy or Pork Belly Cubano will certainly do the trick. And you will instantly know the meaning of savage.