In my infinite wisdom, I have decided that whilst in London, I shall name and shame. Living in a small town does not allow me the freedom to honestly critique the places at which I eat. However, in the big smoke, I am a small fish in a gigantic pond so I will be honest til my heart’s content.
Yesterday we started the day with a little bit of France, actually, to be totally honest that’s not how I started my food day. After waking up disturbingly early and pottering around my sister’s house in the dark I gave in to the delights of coco pops. But when Mr T finally woke up, we headed down to Macaron in Clapham Common. A quaint little Boulangerie decked out with a mural on the ceiling of cherubs holding aloft the sacred baguette and cakes. This, coupled with oh so kitsch crockery makes for a quirky little venture. We ordered coffee and croissant and one of every flavour macaroon to take away. The croissant was as it should be, crunchy and crisp on the outside and fluffy and light on the inside. Not as buttery as it could have been and not the best I have ever eaten but the best I have had in a good few years. The coffee was pretty shocking, burnt milk ruined the whole thing and it was bitter. I have been back home for four days and I am yet to have a decent coffee. I would definitely go back for those croissant though, maybe tomorrow…
Dinner at Grafton House in Clapham Old town was several shades of average. There were seven of us around the table, some foodies and some normal people (foodies are far from normal) and yet the general consensus was not bad but certainly flirting with mediocrity. I ordered the gnocchi with mussels and chorizo, the gnocchi was a bit sticky and cloying and the chorizo was cut so big that a knife would have been handy. Personally, I like my gnocchi with a decent amount of sauce and for my liking there was a deficit. Ho hum. For main I ordered asparagus with poached duck eggs and Hollandaise. This would not be a usual dinner choice for me but the menu did not really arouse my attention. As I know that man cannot live on asparagus alone I ordered hand cut chips cooked three times. Usually this practice of thrice cooking is to ensure that your chips are crispy but they were far from it. Tasty but not crispy. The asparagus was generally ok, a tad overcooked but the duck eggs were well poached and the Hollandaise was pleasant enough. So I came away relatively disappointed. It was a nice setting, appropriate lighting, comfy seats, a waitress who was a bit of an over sharer (“when I was in India I ate elephants ear”) but not an altogether bad night.
And so, the search continues for a decent cup of coffee and a damned fine restaurant.