Food
The waste land
I was going to be jolly this week, for variety and denial, but I changed my mind. Instead, I wonder…
Vital organs
Real men eat raw offal
A victim of its own mythology
Langan’s, a brasserie off Piccadilly with curling orange neon signage calling its name, is under new management after it fell…
Making a meal of it
‘The opposite of a correct statement is a false statement. But the opposite of a profound truth may well be…
The hunt for breakfast
The centre could not hold, at least for Piggy’s. The drama of being the only greasy spoon in the West…
Barometer
Prime numbers As of 29 January Boris Johnson will have been Prime Minister for two years and 190 days. Currently…
Lillie’s pad
The Cadogan hotel, Chelsea, is where Oscar Wilde was arrested for sodomy and gross indecency in 1895, in Room 118,…
A slice above
It is a truism that there is never enough schnitzel (‘slice’, German); or, rather, schnitzel does not get the attention…
Just bring me a boiled egg
The Connaught Hotel’s formal dining room was always, to me, a place of childish myth; more comforting for being mythical.…
Gastro-nomics: a foodie’s guide to a changing world
Twice recently I’ve been asked my opinion of ‘Doughnut Economics’. The first time, I was tempted to cover my ignorance…
Real life
We were enjoying our evening at the overpriced gastropub until a woman in a dark uniform appeared at our table.…
Faking it
Whitcomb’s is in The Londoner hotel on the south-west corner of Leicester Square. The Londoner calls itself ‘the world’s first…
Meat and two veg
My evening at a naked dining club
Letters
Doom and gloom Sir: The depressing article by Tom Woodman (‘You must be kidding’, 16 October) confirms my growing fears…
Bone to pick
Why I retrained as a butcher
The real Greek
Lemonia lives in the old Chalk Farm Tavern in Primrose Hill, which is better known as the set of Paddington.…
Quenelles
When Peter Quennell was sent down from Oxford for consorting with a woman called Cara (by Evelyn Waugh’s account), he…
Fit for a king
A French creole restaurant rises in the sullen ruins of London. It is called Louie, for French king or trumpeter,…
In defence of cruel foods
Fishmongers are an endangered species in London. Thankfully, 15 minutes walk across Westminster from The Spectator’s offices there is an…
A fat king with a sex chair
When it comes to history programming, television’s loss is increasingly audio’s gain. People moan to me most weeks over the…
Food for thought
What use does a fallen and corrupted world have for a man of integrity? This was not the question I…
American nightmare
Why would anyone move to the US?
Curry isn’t racist
The latest casualty in the culture wars is an innocent-sounding word: ‘curry’. Apparently it’s inappropriate to use it, and incorrect…
A time to live, a time to diet
I hadn’t noticed how much weight I’d put on during lockdown until I went out for a business lunch a…
High on the hog
The Pig at Bridge Place is not a pig in possession of a country house, but I would be for…
