LONDON - NO PLACE FOR FOOD RUBES

The other weekend my very distinguished movie-world pal was in town from Berlin (not chiefly for my benefit) but we met on Sunday afternoon along with the lady friend, and after a walk in Regent’s Park we felt the need for cheesecake.

 

After much searching we ended up in EL&N, Market Place, just north east of Oxford Circus, very possibly in Fitrovia. They’re all over the place – one at least in Dubai.

 

It was, I think you’d have to say, a gendered space, all pink, and full of girls with low cut flowery dresses and spray on tan.  But I’m the kind of dude who can cope with that. 

The shoutline of EL&N according to its website, is ‘Most Instagrammable café in the world.’  

So obviously I didn’t put the above pic on Instagram, not least because frankly it didn’t look all that fabulous.

 

It tasted fine but since it cost 8 quid I did feel mildly ripped off, like I was some rube who’d fallen into a hideous tourist trap.  Which I suppose I was.

 

It was that kind of day.

 

Later four of us went to possibly the least authentic Japanese restaurant I’ve ever been to, Tonkotsu on Dean Street, Soho:

 

There was not a Japanese person in sight either as staff or customer, though the food was perfectly OK. The 'seasoned egg' tasted much better than it looked.

 

But our waiter – name of Fernando (I know because it said so on the bill) - charged us for a course we sent back because we hadn’t ordered it.  We only realized this after we’d paid up and left.  Of course we were fools not to have scrutinized the bill for waiterly malfeasance at the time, but sometimes you don’t want to have to do that. Call me a rube.  Perhaps you already did.