Kropotkin

I'm also an advocate of amari - a fine way to conclude a dinner, and a decent early evening drink (with ice). It's always worth trying any home-made, rustic stuff that a rural Trattoria may offer you. Some amari can be over-sweet or cloying, but 'Averna' is good (and the most popular brand I suspect; it is available widely and at both Rome airports). You don't see it as often, but I think China Martini is more delicately balanced and refined than most commercially-available amari, so that would be my recommendation...

The search facilities on the site seem to have been up-graded -a little- just recently. A search by town or city now indicates those restaurants with stars amongst all the places listed to the left of the map. No sign of any bibs, but a little more helpful than it has been for a while.

One possible corollary of this very interesting discussion is that we should celebrate, promote and cherish any restaurants that experiment with innovative techniques and twists on traditional Italian cuisine. As noted in recent discussions (like THIS one), few Italians are adventurous in terms of exploring other cuisines. Likewise, it is claimed up-thread that many Italians dine out much less regularly than we imagine. All of this suggests that there is a very limited pool of potential clients for innovative cuisine. Indeed, if only 10-20 restaurants pursue any such agenda (as Fortedei notes) in a country of c. 60 million, then these brave pioneers need to be protected and preserved! I'm being deliberately provocative of course, but it seems to me that the significant, nay overwhelming, focus on the splendid traditional cuisines of the regions means that there is plenty of space for the few experimental places that explore what new techniques might offer long-established ingredients, flavours and combinations. For my part, when visiting these days I like to mix both the classical and the more innovative restaurants, and I enjoy each for what they offer... but when I've lived in Italy for extended periods, I have found myself yearning for something different every two weeks or so - and perhaps new approaches might offer that alternative direction or that bit of difference? To paraphrase Hathor's original point, I like trying 'contemporary' Italian cuisine because I'm simply very curious to see what materialises when traditional preparations and techniques are re-assessed: at worst, there's no harm in popping outside the food museum now and again; at best, these places may nudge the boundaries in new directions?

It seems to have appeared earlier than the scheduled publication date; I bought a copy from Amazon last week. Wouldn't they normally send copies to the media and industry insiders before Jo Public gets her grubby mits on them? The guide is organised around regions this time - which may help those with a hazy sense of geography. The layout remains largely the same as the 2007 version, although the copy-editing is a little lax in places. I've no evidence for this, but it feels like some of the smaller, 'also-recommended' places have been stripped out of the listings (or, at least, their write-ups are much-diminished). There are more pages though, so perhaps this is an illusion? Also new are the small, column-length articles dotted throughout the book. Some are useful (child-friendly places, seasonal produce etc.), but most are quick interviews with chefs: favourite dish, biggest challenge etc. (quite reminiscent of football programmes' 'pen-pics' of yore). They also rank the best restaurants into a 'Top 40' to distinguish between places with the same score (cue another argument about lists...). The Fat Duck edges out Ramsay at no.1; Winteringham Fields has slipped from 9/10 to 8/10; and Nathan Outlaw jumps into the higher echelons. Further down, Gidleigh Park seems mis-placed given it's score... But I'll stop now, pop-pickers, lest I start to sound too much like the late Alan 'Fluff' Freeman!

Paradoxically, given his considerable media profile, the latest restaurant venture of Gary Rhodes seemed to be deliberately demure and inconspicuous. My concierge struggled to locate its number and reach them on the ‘phone. The entrance is also surprisingly discreet: the closed, black, glossy door being secreted away on the North-West corner of the Cumberland Hotel, with the restaurant’s name only evident if you peer closely. Further, the sprawling (and well-signed) Rhodes Brasserie W1 occupies much of the same side of the hotel – to draw the casual or the unwary into what looked a rather brutalist interior. I scurried past and when I pushed at the heavy door, the charming receptionist instantly knew my name. Spookier still, I thought, until I realised I was the last person booked for dinner… Once within, the bar area (or more specifically, the chairs inscribed with Rhodes’ recipes) looked a little kitsch. But I rather liked the dining area beyond with its faux-gothic, New-Orleans boudoir chic (which, of course, would be kitsch to others). The room isn’t large and the noise from a table of braying young fellows carried a little too easily into my opposite corner, but otherwise, this is a fine spot for dinner (although breaking a sunny day with lunch in this sepulchral gloom might be a little odd). After the surprise of the retrained exterior and the idiosyncratic décor within, the food is more straight-forwardly classical than I expected. Yet it was also impressive and very accessible thanks to the flexibility built into the menus that allows one to supplement the reasonable £45 dinner option by nudging in a couple of extra courses from a parallel taster menu. Alternatively, one could construct an individual tasting menu from the latter offerings (but note that the individual prices for this DIY option might accelerate your spending appreciably). After much indecision, I ordered an excellent salmon soup (as an extra dish) in which the fish finished poaching at the table as the soup was poured over it. Then came a refined sweetbreads and langoustine salad before a very satisfying beef dish with a watercress puree and a rich faggot sitting on a bed of caramelised onions. While the cherry trifle to conclude didn’t sparkle at the same level, overall this was serious cooking and very enjoyable. To my mind, this was splendid and there’s little to quibble about. The service was attentive but also smily throughout; the sommelier was very helpful and pretty canny when posed with my selection (although beware: there’s not much available below £45). The cheeses also looked decent as they wheeled past on an Art Nouveau silver trolley. The choice of breads was limited; I’m sure that the simplicity of white or brown was a conscious decision, but some might prefer more variety. The bill was presented in an envelope marked ‘the damage’: an easy gag, but I liked it. Gary's still a cheeky chappy, after all… I visited because I recalled a good review from Jay Rayner (see here), and I’d concur with his positive noises. But in contrast to the virtually empty restaurant that Jay encountered, the word is now out and all but one table was full on a Thursday evening. You should get there before the prices creep upwards (and, obviously, a year hence, take the opportunity to pontificate about how the place has dumbed-down, lost its early edge since the price hike etc etc etc…)

I'm pleased to prompt a little more discussion of the Trentino and Alto-Adige. I was very impressed by the regions on my first visit for some twenty years (at a time when I wasn't old enough to appreciate the finer things...) If it's of help to others, we stayed at the Grand Hotel Boscolo in Trento - it has a very good, central location (just two minutes from the station through a park, and two minutes further to Piazza del Duomo). It was a good, modern 'business' hotel - if perhaps too big for the city and its potential business. But I like this - it means we found a very good rate online; likewise, I like the strange atmosphere of over-large, half-full or empty grand hotels (odd, I know). Don't bother with the breakfast, however - this was poor. Salutistagolosa - I like your blog very much, and I'm heartened that we seemed to choose the slightly better place to eat (if I read you correctly) in preferring Scrigno del Duomo to Osteria a le Due Spade. We dined for a second evening at what seemed to be a new, popular, wine-bar cum restaurant finished with industrial-chic decor to the west of Piazza Duomo near Le Due Spade. I can't recall the name, though, and beyond a good seafood ravioli starter, the meal was a profound disappointment - despite the higher-end prices. The service we received was abysmal too. I'd name and shame (politely) if I could remember their name!

Scrigno del Duomo - Trento We found ourselves in Trento for a couple of evenings last week. Much to our pleasure -and as noted up-thread- the central piazza in Trento is a beautiful space that would be celebrated endlessly by the British chattering classes if it were in Tuscany. But locked away in the heart of the Trentino, straddling the Adige and en route between the Veneto and Austria, this historic, relaxing small city draws far less attention than it deserves. I hadn’t booked any meals, although I knew Scrigno del Duomo was one of the best places in town. There’s a wine-bar that serves an appealing short menu upstairs, with a more serious restaurant in the old cellars below. We wandered in on the Saturday evening at eight and asked on the off-chance if there were any free tables. Fortunately, we were shown downstairs (with steps that may be tricky for the immobile) to a spacious, airy vault that was very cleverly lit. They offer an a la carte, a local menu of regional specialities, and a chef’s special menu. I lobbied for the local but my partner persuaded me that the chef’s dugustazione looked more interesting. Admittedly we’d side-stepped the regional cuisine in favour of the chef’s signature dishes, but the amount of seafood that followed nevertheless surprised me. The meal began with an amuse of oyster and tuna, and was followed by a good tuna and melanzane dish (where the meaty melanzane worked much better than anticipated with the tuna carpaccio). A third seafood dish likewise presented a good contrast of textures, with a thick sauce of bulgur wheat and oil augmented by a range of seafood. The best and last of the fishy dishes was a generous fillet of baked turbot with two sweet pepper sauces and crisp melazane slices. All these dishes were cooked precisely and all offered balance, interest and enjoyment. Moreover, when the menu finally reached shore, a guinea-fowl dish with a woodland ragu was impressive and, I imagine, a closer reference to local culinary traditions. A chocolate, ginger and strawberry Bavarese proved a very refreshing dessert. The service was light-of-touch but welcoming thoughout. While I’d be surprised if this restaurant troubled the Michelin inspectors for a second star, this was an enjoyable meal that represented excellent value (to my mind) at circa €160. Particularly impressive in this respect was a very drinkable Trentino Pinot Grigio with a slightly rusty hue that was recommended by the sommelier and that arrived at the lowly price of just €15. Overall, we’d return here happily. The minor gripe would be the piped music that hummed away in the background and that included, incongruously, a CD of sub-Riverdance Celtic tunes. An archaeologist friend of mine talks about a rising interest amongst Northern Italians in their supposedly mysterious, long-submerged Celtic past - but this hammy musical phenomenon (in my humble opinion, of course) was an unexpected addition to the evening!

I had lunch with friends in Abstract last week (connected to the place of the same name in Inverness that was subjected to a TV Ramsay-visitation a couple of years back...) The lunch deal was decent value with perfectly presentable food. It's also a good room and offers the kind of attentive service you'd find at a top-end joint. Memorably, it also has faux-crocodile skin table-surfaces! I'd hoped for Wisharts or The Kitchin but we didn't have time to get down to Leith, so this sufficed nicely. It's also a splendid walk up Castle Hill then down Johnston Terrace from the centre...

Hello Helen, I have a friend who's done some research into the recent immigrant communities of Rome, and especially their integration into the local economies of the Esquilino district (to the South of Termini). As I recall, he mapped the rise of new businesses and restaurants around Pzza. Vittorio Emmanuele II, and more particularly, for your interests, he's eaten in all (he thinks) of the city's Chinese restaurants as part of a continuing survey of their networks and structures. He should be able to offer you a unique insight into the popularity of Chinese food in Rome. I've not eaten Chinese food in Rome for five years or so, but unless the standard has increased markedly, this is a heroic methodology indeed... all in the name of social-science! His latest writing on this is: Pierpaolo MUDU (2006) 'Patterns of Segregation in Contemporary Rome', Urban Geography, 27, 5, pp. 422-440. He Should have his contact details on this paper, if not, PM me and I'll pass them on. Good luck!

Hello Fortedei, I'm sorry that you were upset by my report of our meal - I did hint that this is not a place for those who celebrate an unchanging, traditional Italian cuisine! I do take your point about poor technique and outlandish combinations - when it doesn't work, it is a sorry spectacle. However, Caputo does have abundant technical skill (as far as I could tell). Further, he would say (and he emphasised this repeatedly) that he's trying to blend typical regional cuisine with modern technique and presentation. Mine was just one visit, but I liked it and I thought he made it work; it seems the Michelin inspectors liked it too. But of course, these are just some opinions - and it is our varied, differing opinions that make these debates interesting, I'd say. NB! I forgot to mention that the restaurant is very well-signposted for those driving to Marina del Cantone - a welcome change to some places!

Despite its size and relative isolation, the tiny seaside hamlet of Marina del Cantone on the South-Western tip of the Sorrentine peninsular boasts more Michelin stars than many European cities. Throw in Don Alfonso 1890 (2*) twenty minutes drive away at the crest of the peninsula and this probably becomes one of the most stellated regions of Europe per head. We were in the area at Easter and had booked into Don Alfonso 1890 - but its winter renovations continued beyond schedule and they had to cancel. Yet Taverna del Capitano, further down the road, had just been awarded a second star, so we booked in for a Sunday night dinner to try it out… Marina del Cantone is set in a striking small bay at the foot of a winding road down some precipitous slopes. You’ll pass the enticing prospect of Quattro Passi (1*) set in its beautiful gardens a few minutes from the sea, but when you reach Marina Del Cantone you’ll find little more than a bus-stop, a few fishing boats, a couple of hotels and a series of small restaurants dangling over a curving shingle beach that is flanked by lofty cliffs. The largest building on the shoreline is the Taverna Del Capitano, and inside is an understated but very spacious dining room (we were circa three metres from the next table) with wicker seats, pale wood décor, and a couple of isolated outbreaks of maritime kitsch. A further covered terrace reaches off the main room. Both are pleasant and very spacious but are nothing spectacular per se - but they don’t need to be, as both rooms focus upon the sea which ebbs and flows just a couple of metres outside the vast windows. This is a very special spot for, we hoped, a special dinner. We asked for the Chef’s eight-course tasting menu which started with a selection of ten balanced tastes and textures, from sun-dried tomato, through olives, to popcorn, gazpacho, crisps and artichoke and another unidentified vegetable; likewise, a simple pre-appetiser of fiore di Zucca worked well enough, but didn’t really foretell the fireworks that were to follow. The serious business commenced with a dish of octopus balls chowder with sea asparagus and garlic croutons. I’m not normally a huge fan of thin seafood soups but this was a very solid and well-balanced dish. Next came one of Chef Caputo’s signature dishes: a stunning combination of fried red-prawns wrapped in fried ‘spaghetti’ of potato, and all this is matched with a sweet red pepper sauce and fried vegetables. This was sublime and the best dish of the night. If we’d left at that point we’d have been happy, but this dish was swiftly followed by other special plates: first, a dish of black and white tagliolini in a spicy pumpkin and squid sauce – this too was technically flawless and a very impressive combination of tastes (and the best squid I can recall). A first-rate combination dish followed that offered imperial dentice, seaweed, apple, and a slice of dried fig hammered flat, all doused at the table by a mocha sauce flavoured with sea-urchins (poured at the table from a classic, small espresso macchinetta). These myriad elements looked a little too numerous and too disparate when the plate arrived, but it worked terrifically. By contrast, we then encountered a starkly-minimalist dish of beef cooked in tomato, garlic and oregano joined by a vegetable new to me called friarielli – a Neapolitan strain of broccoli, here steamed in a small bag and presented in a small copper pan. Again, this was excellent. This sequence of four fine dishes attests to the high quality of this kitchen. But there is also a resolutely modern edge to this place: the plating and presentation were far more contemporary than I expected and evidenced a good deal of thought. The style might be too radical for some traditionalists -and certainly, this was not the obvious, easy option for this establishment- but for me this signalled an ambitious, serious place. I could see why the Michelin assessors felt compelled to upgrade. A pre-desert of a Macedonia appeared along with the petit fours… which was odd, we commented, but at that moment the lights dimmed. It was my birthday (something I’d let slip when booking in case this persuaded them to squeeze us in at late notice), and through the gloom they brought our deserts (a fine combination of walnut ice-cream, along with caramelised walnuts, honey and a further liqueur dip, since you ask) with an additional birthday firework aflame especially for me (‘attention to detail note’: even the firework was garnished artfully with orange). Despite my fears when booking, the only other diners on an April Sunday evening were two elderly couples who had left earlier so, with the place to themselves, the waiter and maître d’ sang buon compleanno – a surprising, and then a surprisingly nice touch that exposed how relaxed and welcoming this place is. These two then chatted at length before Chef Caputo appeared. He was keen to talk about his concern to fuse traditional Campanian cuisine with modern, cutting edge technique and presentation. He also discussed very interesting plans for a further, highly inventive dish (the details of which I’d better not reveal), but one that would mystify traditionalists still further. That said, his commitment to local produce was evidenced simultaneously when he pointed out some of the local fishermen he buys from as they made their way across the shallows casting their nets. At €231-00 for two, I thought this was also a pretty good deal - helped by a good, extensive, and very reasonable wine list. They also do rooms (although the website could be clearer on the tariffs). I’m not normally one for a break so far away from everything and everywhere, but the cliffs, the shingle beach, and the clear water make this a stunning spot. Moreover, with this place on hand, Quattro Passi five minutes walk away, Don Alfonso twenty minutes in a taxi, and boat-trips to the dining options of Amalfi, Positano and Capri, a serious foodie could stay here for a week or two and not get tired. I’m sure we’ll be back and I’d recommend it to others.

Before leaving the UK, I wrote to Il Buco asking for a reservation - but only if they were prepared to accommodate a sleeping baby in a pram at dinner. In truth, I expected a polite refusal – not the warm response that the bambino was more than welcome. Indeed, when we arrived they had a choice of two tables reserved for us (inside and out), and in every way, they couldn’t have been more accommodating. It was a little chilly, so we elected to eat indoors. The main room is the erstwhile undercroft of a monastery - but doesn’t feel at all claustrophobic or gloomy, despite lacking any windows. A complimentary glass of champagne and a deep-fried mozzarella bite immediately earned good will before the menus arrived. We ordered the ‘traditional’ taster option featuring local produce – with a particular highlight being the starter of skewered mountain cheeses, mortadella and salamis. In my day job I’m lucky enough to enjoy an annual trip to this region to assess the continuing development of social and rural sustainability in the Campanian mountains. While there, we’re always plied with this kind of traditional food from an upland area where agricultural production was never industrialised (and therefore, a sub-region where the regional agricultural development quango can now capitalise on this ‘untouched’, ‘typical’ agricultural produce as a marketing strategy). The excellent offerings here were redolent of the mountain produce I sample each year on the smallholdings – and were complemented very well by tempura vegetables. Thereafter, a good vegetable soup preceded a very satisfying dish of Gragnano pasta parcels stuffed with pork and tomatoes. This was followed by a lamb ribs dish with potato, cabbage and white beans. While a well-composed dish visually, this was less impressive in terms of the flavours and tastes – it wasn’t a poor dish, but as the main meat course, I was expecting something to match or surpass the standards we'd seen earlier. That said, a excellent lemon and orange mousse and a rustic Casserta rescued things swiftly - the Casserta providing a richly textured combination of raisins, pine kernels and ricotta dressed with an apple sauce. All of this was accompanied by some a very fine (and very reasonable) Bianco di Avellino, and a local red that I can’t recall. All in all, this was a very solid meal with very good service and a wine list with an impressive regional-focus. It’s also very reasonable at €75 for the menu we had, and €302 with wine and extra drinks or three. And while we might not prioritise this place over some of the more illustrious places within 30 minutes drive, when on the Sorrentine plateau we’d return without hesitation. For those of you who are wondering (and / or horrified at the prospect), our little boy was enthralled by the scents and colours of the first two courses, then slept without a murmer for the rest of the dinner. In retrospect, I realised (with a start) that we wouldn’t have pushed our luck in this manner in the UK, but Il Buco’s generous reply to my tentative enquiry made it seem the most natural thing in the world to wheel a five-month-old baby into a Michelin-rated eatery at 8pm sharp. If nothing else, this is testimony to what a welcoming place this is.

I visit Vico Equense every year for work, but given that I’m with colleagues, high dining is seldom an option – so I was very pleased to visit this increasingly well-know place last week. That said, it’s a bit of a schlep to get there. Gennaro Esposito has resisted the temptation to relocate to the Crowne Plaza’s corporate revamping of the old cement works outside Castellamare (with their mystifying decision to retain the brutalist, industrial aesthetic: 5* 'cement-works chic' with a view of the Volcano anyone?), so he’s still found at the bottom of a long, winding lane down to the sea in Seiano. It’s an idyllic setting, but it’s not very easy to get to from anywhere. We investigated a taxi from Sorrento, but we were quoted exorbitant prices. So we drove… for a long time on the grid-locked road across the Sorrentine plateau and along the coastal road before we wound down to the shore. Walking here would also be tricky (even from the Circumvesuaviana stop at Seiano), although don’t try for a taxi from here, your better bet for that would be Vico Equense station. Once inside, I was struck by how plain the interior is; it might benefit enormously from a colour-wash for the walls… but perhaps Scandanavian minimalism is what they’re after (and perhaps this inspired talk of the move to the cement works?). Yet however cold the décor, the welcome was warm and relaxed and we settled in. Given the sea-side location and Esposito’s reputation we opted for the Seafood menu: the Proposto di Ciro. And at one point, half way through, I could have hugged Ciro: I thought I was having the best seafood meal of my life. Another half later, I was still happy, but not sure if I’d consider the journey to the seashore here again. It all started so well with a pre-appetiser of baccalà with green pesto and piquant tomato: very tasty and, as these things are supposed to, the dish worked brilliantly in raising anticipation steeply for what followed. And at first, the subsequent dishes didn’t disappoint at all. Second was a truly sublime fish soup that had been reduced to a thick, viscous gloop with an extraordinary deep, satisfying flavour - and then dotted by an archipelago of seafood items and some enormously rich, dense spots of pureed tomato (although this description doesn’t do it justice). This was a fantastic dish. This was followed by a pasta dish of folded, semi-open ravioli with a prawn sauce and a scattering of prawns across the plate. This too was memorable and at this point, I was raving about the Torre del Saracino and planning to move to Seiano, perhaps even to the end of that track. However, the second half of the meal was much flatter: still good, but it never touched these heights again. A fillet of San Pietro followed, with a potato-puree and vegetable accompaniment. This was good, but nothing spectacular. A cheese course -with the cheeses selected for you- was also good, yet due to its residual edge of tannins, the subsequent pre-desert of a red wine granita didn’t cleanse the palate as well as a citrus fruit-based offering would have (and this from the peninsula of lemons!). Finally, the Rum Baba was moist, light, and surprisingly vast of portion in contrast to the well-judged plates earlier - but again, it didn’t amaze with its sophistication (particularly in contrast to the earlier dishes). All of this was served with a Sommelier-guided fruity and refined Bianco di Avellino that worked very nicely, and was also a steal (as are all the Campanian wines offered here). The service was a little hasty for the first three or four dishes, although calmed down later. Throughout the first courses, our side-plates were never more than momentarily free of breads. Gennaro visited at the start and close of our meal and he offers a genuine presence that personalises his restaurant. No abstract, distant, formulaic Michelin-kitchen here; it’s rattling and heaving to the left as you enter... you can see the man close-up and in his element. This human-perspective is a plus for me, and it also makes the place’s foibles more forgivable. Esposito is undoubtedly capable of hitting great heights, but I could also see why some might leave wondering out-loud about all the fuss. A few unlucky orders from the carte, and nothing special might come your way; the right orders, by contrast, and you’re raving all the way home. We paid €176 for two with one bottle of wine and some aperitifs - expensive for the area (and, I’m sure, fuelling the grumbles of those who don’t get lucky with the menu), but offering fair value overall. We enjoyed the evening, but I’m not sure if or when we’ll be back down that lane from Seiano.

We enjoyed a memorable dinner in Ostuni in October 2005 at a relatively new restaurant -'Osteria Piazzatte Catedrale'- right at the top of the old town. It has an astonishingly evocative setting in the small piazza outside the Duomo doors, and one rendered even more atmospheric by the misty autumn night when we visited. Inside the cosy restaurant (just two smallish dining rooms hewn into the hilltop) the welcome was very warm. I can't recall exactly what menu we had but it included a very fine array of antipasti (including an excellent plate of mozzarella and pomegranate), and a deep, rich, local pasta dish. Their wine-list was also more extensive that anticipated, and we enjoyed an excellent Salice Salentino after their recommendation. The owner was very serious about his food and seems to be one of the very welcome, emergent breed of younger restauranteurs one finds scattered through the South. We'd be back in a flash. And when we go we'll again stay at the Hotel La Terra simply for their striking and impressive rennovation of an old, labyrinthine monastery that was partially embedded in the same hilltop. Ask for a room in the rafters overlooking the white townscape (although don't worry about their breakfast, and there's no parking... at all...)

The Tree House organic cafe and shop, Aberystwyth, on Baker Street (if I recall correctly???) used to do very good quick salads, soups etc. and still does, I hear. Lloyd's fish and chips shop is in Lampeter, though, c. 12 miles inland up the Aeron valley - but better, I'd say, than the fare on offer at Aberaeron.

I'll add my voice to those advocating a trip to El Corte Ingles. We visited on the recommendation of a friend with, in truth, some scepticism. Yet we were bowled over by the huge array, and the quality, of the produce on offer. From memory, the excellent bakery and the cheeses stood out particularly. The seafood is also very fresh - ie. still swimming in some cases. We also stocked up from the range of interesting coffee beans on offer. On our last visit we didn't dine systematically from recommendations or guides, but wandered through the Bairro Alta looking for places that looked good. We were never dismayed - although if you use this method you might have to get in ahead of the crowds. That said, we did try Cervejaria da Trindade based on prior reading. This is a beer and dining institution dating back to the nineteenth-century, apparently, and it was indeed hugely atmospheric and packed with local families dining out. However, while the food was OK and pretty cheap, it was not really anything special... but worth considering for the space, decor and buzz.

I might be too late to help on this occasion, but I'll set this out anyway (as it may help others)... While skiing in Cervinia three years ago I enjoyed a Birthday dinner at Copa Pan. This place came recommended by the tour company reps as the best eating in town. We thought it a perfectly good place - offering a good range of local meats and Valle D'Aosta specialities. I recall a decent-enough wine-list too. While it wasn't as haute as some on here would hope, portions were hearty and although a little pricey for an Italian ristorante at this level, overall it offered reasonable value. It was also a very snug and toasty setting to while (and wine) away the evening. Otherwise, we didn't find a great deal to get excited about. I didn't have L'Espresso's I Ristoranti d'Italia to help me in those days, but their 2006 guide recommends la Chandelle (in the Hotel Hermitage) and the restaurant of the Hotel les Neiges d'Antan. I can't vouch for these myself, but L'Espresso is complementary (moreso about the former if you had to select just one of these). One pleasant aspect of Apres-ski in Cervinia was the extensive nibbles laid on by many of the bars to tempt in the late-afternoon and early evening crowd - most included good local cheeses and meats.

My pleasure, Markk. I've also realised that advice on Restaurant Guides is pinned at the top of this page (or accessible by clicking here).

I've not seen mention of it yet on this thread, but I used the (bright orange) 'I ristoranti d'Italia 2006 (Le Guide de L'Espresso)' on a series of trips in the last year or two. It served me for about four weeks of dining out in different cities throughout Italy, and I found it reliable, informative and easy to use. It's also callibrated precisely: with a 40 point rating scale, and offers succint but sufficient descriptions of the restaurants, their settings and a few signature dishes. The places the guide took me to were always good and virtually always full of locals -even on midweek evenings- which was a good sign. It often took me to interesting, small (but high quality) places down the back alleys and in the residential areas that one's less likely to find on your own. Some were grittily authentic in food and decor (two were like stepping back into a neo-Realist interior from the 1950s). Others were pushing the boundaries of Italian cuisine (usually very) gently - so if you're looking for the big, bold flavours and atmosphere of a traditional Trattoria, some of the smaller, quieter, more serious places in this guide may not be the best for you. Conversely, if you're interested in a range of good places with interesting, quality food, this guide may help. As far as I know it's only available in Italian.

An addendum here to an earlier report: In early 2006 I visited Northcote Manor for a meal (which was good), but I grumbled about the service and the customer-relations (which were a little sloppy). I lunched there yesterday to check it out again and, I'm pleased to say, the welcome, service and customer-care were faultless. While the lunchtime fare was not quite as impressive as the evening offerings we had last time, it was still good. They also had a neat selection of wines (available by the glass) to match the lunch options. And, at c. 24 quid for three courses and coffee, it represents fair value. Given my grumbles up-thread, it's only fair that I report a better experience...

I'll be the first to say this: surely Anthony's will be recognised this year?

When I was a nipper in East Lancashire I sometimes heard of drinkers having an an egg in their pint as a special 'extra' for fortitude... I never tried it, though!

Thanks for the reviews all; I'll second Kerriar's comments on Cul-de-Sac and Alfredo's - a great little place. I'll also recommend Domus Sessoriana as a very decent place to stay. The hotel's setting in the Monastery is pretty special, and there's also a quieter neighbourhood feel to the district around. For first timers in the city it might not be the very best location, but if you know Rome and are happy jumping on and off buses and trams to get around, it's great. The breakfast room in the cellar is particularly notable in contrast the the tiny, cramped, congested breakfast rooms most hotels offer. If you look around, you can get good prices online for this place too.

For me: 1) Winteringham Fields 2) Juniper 3) Anthony's 3b) With special mention to Scacco Matto (Bologna) My partner asks if she can also have a go, by proxy: 1) Winteringham Fields 2) Osteria Piazzetta Cattedrale, Ostuni, Puglia. 3) G.W. Sundmans (Helsinki) - for their 'Arctic' menu and the harbour view. She also asks if she can include lunch at Patrick Guilbaud (Dublin) as an extra... but I said 'no chance, three choices only...'

I missed the first five minutes so I can't be sure, but wasn't GR's usual topless shot missing last night? He did his standard piece to camera while changing clothes, but was shot from the neck up - no gratuitous torso footage anywhere! Is he becoming more modest as the years take their toll, or has his producer finally realised that these flesh shots render him still more of a caricature???