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Borough Market Restaurants for Sharing Plates

Once upon a time, Borough Market was unknown. Unless you were looking for food wholesale, there were much cooler places to be. Traders would arrive long before dawn for the day’s work, and the local pubs would open from 4am to serve the first pints of day to those clocking off from a hard slog. As the name ‘Borough’ became a destination for the savvy foodie, traders turning over small fortunes would clamber to rooftops for end of the day drinks together, breaking bread and putting the world to rights.

Admittedly a romanticised version of events, this image of a community of once under-appreciated food lovers turned much-hyped tourist attraction, makes for one of my favourite places in London. The spirit of Borough Market- sharing successes over good wine and food- feeds my love of two restaurants there in particular- Arabica Bar and Kitchen and Boro Bistro. To me, these small-plate-style spots hark back to the days of clearing down stalls after the day’s trade to join your competition over a bite to eat.

Arabica Bar and Kitchen

Arabica is home to a worldly menu inspired by much loved delicacies (falafel, hoummus, pide) and  ’”Levantine with London swagger’ new delights (Fosse Meadow chicken in Lebanese seven spice, Roasted pumpkin freeke).

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Pour out a good Turkish red, choose from a list of mezze divided by cooking method (Clay Oven, Josper Grill, so on). Snack on ras el hanout popcorn while you wait.

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Chatter with friends as you dip, scoop, nibble and tear your way through a mix of authentic, carefully spiced mezze.

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Life-changing onion rings. Bit, beefy onions surrounded in tarator (basically cream cheese), deep fried. So bad, but so, SO unbelievably excellent.

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Let the hours slip by as you pass around plates, clink glasses and revel in the convivial spirit and happy din of this small restaurant with a lot of soul under the railway arches.

Boro Bistro

Ever French, the menu is divided into lovers. Meat lovers, Veg lovers, Seafood lovers, Charcuterie lovers. I am all of those lovers, so I order everything.

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Smearing terrine and potted meat onto toast (and a little over my face, an inevitability), slicing beef onglet to share, picking out red wine with the joyful waiters. It’s an authentic little bistro- designed with both candle lit dates and hungry group reunions in mind.

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Each mouthful a delight, each plate carefully distributed between everyone for a fair share. Order more wine, endeavour to reach the dishes placed at the other end of the table, and catch up on holiday plans, work dramas and existential questions between bites.

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Through to dessert, where the small plate philosophy sensibly ends (catch me sharing my creme brûlée), and makes way for a few more glasses of heady French wine before heading back out into the night, home.

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Winchester Rain

Lowered heads, cameras stowed away safely. When it rains on a daytrip, bleh. I’m out of natural position- looking up and around and through a lense. Instead, shuffle me off into the nearest cafe or pub, so I can wipe down my glasses on my sleeve and explore a city from within. It’s no blaring sunshine vibes, but in a place like Winchester, it will do nicely.

After buying a much needed hat (who needs umbrellas these days) from the high street and with time to kill before lunch, we ended up in a National Trust museum dedicated to the old Winchester Mill. We quizzed the volunteers on the workings and mechanics in front of us (a little too intensely, given neither of us could feign an interest in a flour mill at any other occasion) and optimistically paused by the live otter-cam in vain.

In any case, wine. Tucked away by the fireplace of the hopelessly idyllic Chesil Rectory, we saw off the set course menu and plotted our next move with recommendations from the staff. The food was delicious and the surrounding a perfect setting, a previous Mary Tudor hotspot, for piling up jumpers and pondering the weather. If it’s good enough for royalty it’s certainly good enough for me.

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On the advise of the chatty staff at Chesil Rectory, with heads bowed under hoods we tottered up the hill towards The Black Boy. A trove of tinkling bottles, board games with bits missing and local paraphernalia, we settled in with the Trivial Pursuit cards and eavesdropped on the local’s conversations.

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Steadily more tipsy, we minded our heads and took to Winchester streets. Our intention was to see the Cathedral (I love a bit of church architecture, me), and got distracted on our way by a very inviting bookshop.

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Seeing double from our wine and local ales, we spent a good hour or so sniffing in the old-book smell and craning our necks to get a look at the higher shelves. I picked a book, the lady behind the till said nice things about my bag, all round success. Beaming (me) and eye rolling (Jonathan), we left in search of the Winchester cathedral and college which we forgoed in the drizzle for a brownie and final gin and tonic on the way back to the station.

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Converting London Apathetics, Eating All Day.

Have you ever brought someone to London, or a town you love, and you can just tell they hate it? They make all the right noises, but their eyes linger on the overflowing rubbish bags rather than the mishmash of architecture and people? They say they like it too, yeah, it’s nice… But deep down you just know that they didn’t quite get it- get why you write home about this place all the time?

Well, that’s how I feel about my mum and London. She’s always thought it was a great town for me, but she just couldn’t see it for herself. The crammed in coffee spots I try to convince her are all the rage, the buzzing parks that are on main road roundabouts, the eclectic markets you have to clutch your handbag through. I felt like no trip to visit me ever really gave her the ‘wow’ London had given me when I first visited (emerging from Leicester Square station like the doe-eyed nervous wreck with big dreams I was).

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It became my mission to make her love this place as much as I did. Sure, her liking London had no impact on how much fun we had together, but I became a dog with a bone- constantly extolling the values of no-reservations-restaurants and the Oxford Street Primark (if you go midweek, duh).

Well, I think I cracked it. If you need a foolproof plan for convincing your nearest and dearest of the virtues of London, feel free to use this as a guide. Mum left town with that spring in your step that helps you navigate the tube system like a pro.

Nata tarts and two flat whites from the Soho Grind, drank and eaten in the glory of Kingly Court.

Soho Grind Nata

Soho Grind, Kingly Court

Meander through Carnaby Street boutiques through to Soho- get to the restaurant you’ve been lusting after (no bookings policy, obv) at an earlier lunch. This week’s restaurant crush was Hoppers.

Ramble on about the delights of London food scene as you gnash your way through mutton rolls, chicken heart, lamb kari, dosa and egg hoppers (or similar).

Hoppers London

Chicken heart, Hoppers

Egg Hopper London

Refuse dessert when the waitress offers, instead head to Crosstown Doughnuts. Don’t let your mum see the price list, just buy one and get out. She’d rather not know.

Crosstown Doughnuts

Go to an understated London icon- i.e. give B’ham Palace a miss, go to Liberty instead. Spend forever pointing at designer retro clocks shrieking ‘I had one of those in the 90s!’ and balk at the price tags of hand cream. Buy trinkets. Get samples. Take selfies.

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Head home, nip into your local boozer for a swift half and lounge by open fire. Decide on cooking an elaborate Italian meal and venture to three mini supermarkets and a deli. Head home, eat, wine, fall asleep on the couch.

Trust me on this- the conversion rate is so far 100%.

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At the Tabl: Gizzi Erskine & The Inksiders

Late to the trend party as ever, I’ve been pining after going to a supper club. I’m the sort of person who loves the social side of food- bonding over carving a roast or tasting a forkful of your friend’s dish is the most important part of any meal- and supper clubs are that bit more personal than your typical eat-out experience. Unfortunately, I’m also the sort of person who will have something on my ‘I must do that’ list for months, so despite it being on my radar for a good long while, I’d never got round to going to one.

Until, that is, I was invited by the very lovely Tazz along to a Tabl event. Tabl is all about making dining experiences more fun, more personal, and more social. Their website, tabl.com, is a litany of cool one-night-only pop ups, home kitchen supper clubs, and innovative food + something special mash ups. To say I jumped at the chance is to massively overstate the grace I had in accepting her invite.

So that’s how I found myself flying solo in the private dining room of Tramshed, Shoreditch, for a tattoo-inspired menu and discussion with The Inksiders and food-hero Gizzi Erskine.

Long tables lay in the centre of the dining room, with people milling around holding glasses of Brighton Gin. I knew nobody. Recognising Erin, IslandBell, from Twitter, I walked over and shyly interrupted her and her friend’s chat to introduce myself. Erin and Charlie were so sweet, and immediately accepted me as part of their evening as we got chatting about the towns we had in common and our shared love of Gizzi Erskine’s books.

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Welcome drinks swigged, it was time to take our seats. Seeing a gap in the crowd surrounding Gizzi, Erin took us to meet her, we were greeted with hugs like old friends and asked to join her at the table so we could all keep chatting. As I was shaking off my fangirl, a hand tapped my shoulder. Lydia, a girl I haven’t seen for years, was right there in front of me. We freaked out, sat down together, and the meal began.

Simultaneously in reunion and making-friends mode, I chatted an laughed and swapped Twitters and took photos all night. Each dish was designed to be carved out for groups, a glowing convivial spirit of carving roast chicken and sharing out plates of salad, pouring drinks for people I hadn’t met yet. If this sounds gushing, then that’s as accurate as I could be. I loved it.

Chicken supper club

chicken supperclub

Between mains and dessert (pure salted caramel fondue with cakes for dipping- the most heart-eyes-emoji dish I’ve ever seen), there was a Q&A with Gizzi and Mo, a renowned tattoo artist. They chatted about the ink and food industries, fielding questions from the crowd as we swigged wine. Though I’m no tattoo afficianado, you could really get a feel for their passion and expertise.

Salted caramel fondue

Dessert rounded up and with plans to meet all four of the girls I got chatting to again, I tottered off back home feeling incredibly connected to London. Without really trying, I’d found myself alone in an awesome restaurant with food by a chef I love, met new friends and found old ones, discovered a new way of entertaining that I’m dying to do again and left full and happy. This was more social, more dinner-round-mine than any restaurant I’ve ever been to. I’m already scouring Tabl for the next opportunity to arrive alone at a dinner party and leave with new friends and a stomach full of great food.

PS- if anyone wants to hit up a supper club, shout and I will 100% come with you!