It has been three weeks of glorious food outings. I have been very slow on the writing however, you are about to hear of four places that should tickle your taste buds and cool-searching glands.
First up, the glorious Honest Burger in Brixton Village. I had heard about this place a while ago, and so when the lovely David suggested we meet there for our catch up, I thought “yes, at last, I will be able to say I went there too”. It did not disappoint.
It is not a burger joint amongst a thousand others. I would go as far as to say it is THE burger joint. The boy went a week later and spoke about it for fifteen minutes without interruption – that must be proof. As with any London hotspot, you cannot book, and three quarters of the population know about it, and you therefore have to queue with every person and their mother, cousin, great aunt… HOWEVER Honest Burger has a few lovely tricks up its sleeve, as unlike other places it does allow you to put your name on the waiting list, go for a drink and eagerly await for a text to tell you the table is free, and very much giddy at the idea of hooking up with you. When you get the text, my friend, run. Run like a fire is nipping at your heels because you are in for a treat.
We plumped for the Honest burger and rosemary chips (it will only set you back £9). Pure pleasure. I have nothing else to say but ‘go’. I am obviously not the only one as they are apparently opening another five branches this year. Praise the Burger.
The next escapade was to the now well visited Ceviche in Soho. A very good spot for our girly chat, but also for a date if you are happy to raise your voice a little. Ceviche serves Peruvian food and surprise, surprise serves many Ceviches. For those of you in the dark, a ceviche is raw, marinated, chili infused fish (usually). I am not a fan of sushi, ceviche is a whole other ball game. Don’t knock it before you try it. We shared some now overly trendy small plates, but it was definitely a good move as so many things had caught our attention. The three of us all praised the sea bass ceviche: too good.
In the series of ‘trendy small plates… again’, the fabulous Jemimah and I plumped for these at the plush Riding House Cafe on Great Titchfield Street. Despite their recurrence in many a restaurant, I have to say I am all for the small plate. No food envy, no difficult choice, something to share… what is not to like? For some of you, definitely the sharing part…
After a couple of Margaritas served by a decidedly flirty waiter who was scoring us on our drinking capabilities (joy…), we chose a carpaccio of beetroot and goats cheese, a watermelon, orange, mint and feta salad, rabbit pasta (to put it plainly), some red mullet and cannellini beans, and a lovely, tender bit of lamb. All pretty good and pretty reasonably priced. I have been advised that their cheeseburger is also pretty good, but if you have been reading this attentively, you will be heading to Brixton Village.
After all these forking adventures, it was time to explore a drinking hole. I am ashamed to say, I am obviously not as cool as I used to be, as I did not know about Frank’s. Frank’s is in Peckham. Yes, Peckham. It is no news that hipsters like to find a bit of a dive and turn it into a cool, urban, grime fest. Hello Brixton! Peckham is the latest victim / hero, and it is doing it quite well if you are to judge by the crowd of utterly cool cats clustering at Frank’s. When you hear the name, you could think of a diner, or maybe a caf’, but Frank’s is a much stranger place as it is located… on the roof of a car park. Very Berlin chic. Meandering through the concrete floors, you finally reach a space full of intriguing contemporary art installations, and a small hay filled club. Go up again and you have a breath-taking view of London. Short of coughing up to get to the top of the Shard, this is a good second best. The place is huge and the drinking queue is well thought out with a Starbucks style system, but without the faff of frothing milk. If it rains, you will be stuck under the red tarpaulin, but the long tables and benches make it pretty convivial rather than sardine-like piled into a fox’s den. The beer is a tad pricey (at £4.50 a pint), but with such a view, I cannot say I was really paying attention.
It does close at 11pm, but with Peckham brimming with people in too big leather jackets, super high-waisted trousers, tiny rucksacks and higher than high ponytails, I have no doubt that there are many other places to visit after dark. Frank’s also does food, and it sounded pretty good. If you are clever enough, get there before the winter, it is a beautiful climb.