scott's

An inaugeral dinner at last at Scott's. The food is as compelling as the art - Dublin Bay prawns, Fiona Rae, Gary Hume, Michael Landy and Peter Peri, is on display.

sizzler

It's my aunt Salina's eighty-fourth birthday party. We have a family dinner at Rima Tandoori restaurant in Redbridge. When he passes our table the manager asks if the food is good. He passes often. The dishes are all the same colour. Some are thicker than others. They taste similar. One of the dishes we've ordered, however, differs audibly from the others - it sizzles - so providing variety.

The menu is divisible acoustically.

st alban

Dinner tonight at St Alban. It has a carpet so it hums. It is like a sanctuary. Not the workshop clatter of The Wolseley, a cathedral where cars once parked for sale. One can't imagine cars parked in St Alban on carpets the colour of vestments. Mitchel works the service with Chris. It's their house party, which is nice. There are no windows. One can imagine the Ivy congregation enjoying this. In lieu of The Ivy's stained glass, ensuring opacity is complicit with privacy, are wall panels covered in scribbly wobbly drawings of pepper mills and other kitchen knick-knacks.

Like graffiti, the origin of the menu is Italian.
And, like the star-ship Enterprise, glass doors swish open as you approach.

punters

Tonight there is a glimmer, a glimmer of a restaurant and guests who want to own a little part of it. The kitchen is expediting exemplary food. It's not too dark, too light, too hot, too cold, the menu font too small, the cheese too smelly, the food too expensive, the room too noisy, the a/c too drafty, oh it goes on and on. Tonight there are people who love the place, who would re-mortgage their homes to keep it open.

The sofas are busy all evening. Some eat here. The area reminiscent of a ship's cabin is now a cosy lounge. Bookings arriving too early are neatly stalled with drinks.

Nobody is complaining.

breakfast

Breakfast at the Wolseley this morning... It's ten minutes before I can place an order, chaos reigns in The Salon. No chance today of tea or coffee whilst pondering the menu & papers. The Bircher muesli arrives, then the tea five minutes later. Another forty mintues and two boiled eggs, ordered with the muesli, arrive with soldiers.

Of course it's lunch time now and I feel silly eating boiled eggs.