By Dan Coward
From this
London, like any city really, is just as special for what isn’t obvious, as for what is. Living out in the country, as I do, a weekend trip into town is usually planned with specific goals in mind. This might be efficient, but it isn’t always exciting (it appears I have inherited a lot more of my dad’s planning genes than we both first feared). So after an amazing evening with friends at La Clique in the Roundhouse and a massively underwhelming tapas experience at Camden’s Bar Gansa, the young lady and I decided on an unplanned overnight stay with said friends.
Apart from the fairly obvious benefit of missing our last train but still having a roof over our heads, this left us in Southwark on a Saturday morning with a free day and London our oyster. We didn’t even try to plan our activities really. Round the corner we passed the Anchor and Hope…a gastro experience I’d always fancied. So we just went in…well that was easy! Minimal queuing and before long we had a lovely table and pints of Young’s and Kirin in front of us. Friendly, fast service brought us a salad of queen scallops, potato and mussels, deep fried rabbit, radishes and rouille and bresaola with rocket and lemon. I looked longingly at the cassoulet for 4 but i said goodbye to Mr Creosote a few years ago and wasn’t planning on him coming back any time soon. The scallop salad was delicious and great value at under £6. The deep fried rabbit was like really classy KFC…which I think you’ll agree isn’t a bad thing at all, and the bresaola was very satisfying.
To this
We managed to embrace the rain and our lack of direction in the name of freedom before finally stumbling into The Brew Wharf at Borough Market for some Meantime Pale Ale, Belgian fries and some English rugby woefully lacking any cutting edge. Why stop there we thought? Joined by a friend we repaired to the bar at Roast for a bottle of big Aussie Shiraz from Berton Vineyards. The site of golden, roasted suckling pigs sitting on the pass, waiting for the evening service was almost too much to bear.
A brilliant cabbie then whisked us through the rain with loud music, dangerous driving, and tales from his Ayia Napa club-owning days up to our friend’s dinner appointment and our train station along the way. But we didn’t really want it all to end, so a quick call was put in to the nearby brother. All he had to say with Dujac and boeuf bourgignon. All we had to say was ‘cheese’, ‘wine’ and ‘we’re coming’. Why go home now? In fact why does anyone ever go home? We should all just hang out, floating from occasion to bar to restaurant all the time, no?
Peeling ourselves off the sofas, in dirty clothes, with empty wallets the next morning, we realised what the fuss about ‘going home’ was all about. Still…it was a great not to plan anything…give it a try sometime.
What’s your best impromptu experience?
Tags: London, Restaurant Review