Gavin Jones

Its reknown due as much to ingenious marketing than outstanding cuisine. I recommend the wine bar next door for the interesting wine list (principally south-west French) and the bar snacks (varieties of Foie Gras). Cheerfully flirtatious young Gascons will bring you the finest wines known to D'Artagnan & enough flavoured fat to bloat your goat.

Their tiny portions leave them gagging for a big mac on the way home from the restaurant.

The last time I ordered a macchiato in a Starbucks in London I was presented with a sickly beige effluent in a mug.

Storage costs. Reheating. And I thought people earlier in the thread suggested that though they intended to eat the leftovers this didn't always happen. And why is it called a doggie-bag when clearly it is a tommy-bag?

I can tell you that it is generally considered to be a result of the rampant, healthy, hearty and wildly enthusiastic capitalism upon which our, thus far, fairly successful country was founded. I am hugely intrigued by the differing portion size being down to capitalism. 1. The level of obesity and, separately, the wastage implicit in doggie-bagging suggest an inefficient use of capital. 2. Was there a significant increase in 'All-you-can-eat' restaurants in the UK during Mrs Thatcher's Friedmannesque activities. 3. Is the existence of the Pasta course down to Gramsci, Mussolini or, more sinisterly, P2? 4. Are their religious strictures enjoining Americans to doggie-bag?

A kentish lady of my acquaintance has requested a 'baggy dog'.

So sorry, was momentarily distracted by your sub-titling.

Including italy?

Dined on Ginger Pig's game terrine - good but for the overly insistent juniper. I think gin is by far the best way to extract the good qualities of juniper rather than the full-on juniper berry which has the irritating effect of a slightly pedantic, nasally inclined monologue - unless I'm describing myself there. However the double confit pork was outstanding. Not pork pornography but true pork love: the pork first confitted (a strobe & pork fat presumably) then terrined in more fat. Sank like an easily digestible titanic with the Boillot Pommard.

You heat the peel to flash point, then bend the peel to extrude the oils and flame them. It is spectacular - though perhaps slightly overwrought to produce a breakfast drink.

This is a frankly bizarre discussion. Good food writing has to be good writing first. It might then be 'about' various things. 'Food writing' as an area is marketing. Authors I have read on food such as Rabelais, Marinetti, Gertrude Stein, Elizabeth David or the policier San-Antonio may be read as writers about food or writers tout court. Reading these authors as 'food writers' is a bizarre misprision, to my mind. If Elizabeth David isn't writing about sens/sexuality and repression I will fellate M. Shaw's hat. The other writers you can fill in your own topoi and appropriate chastisement.

I'm so much more tempted by recipes which don't work quite right, rather than the semi-industrial reproduction of perfection. It poses both the problem-solving question - how can I do that right - but also the what the hell was that dish really about. So I'm now thinking about correct approaches to pork - half-charred exterior, porky interior. Thankyou for making me think about this - and doubtless produce a totally inedible version in a couple of days.

I just had a sudden insight into a Cabraletic psychogeography of Paris. Each curvilinear metro sign merely the toponym of a cuisinier, the ghost of a macaron.

Lunched at this today. Not great. 1. Excellent bread (with half a head of roast garlic) -good 2. Amuse of foamy parsnip soup with pine-nuts. tasted like its description - ok. 3. Starter: baby squid risotto - rice lost in tomatoey slick, baby squid ok. Bizarre assambly of salad leves graced this. Overall ketchuppy feel. 4. Main: Filet'o'cod wrapped in smoked duck breast on puy lentils: This was good, just done chunk of cod in duck bacon on well defined (& not overly earthy lentils). 5. Tarte tatin on sable biscuit, vanilla ice cream: Hadn't understood that the puff/short paste was replaced by essentially shortbread. A prime example of the less-is-less approach of the individual portion. The fact that the apples stood in a 2 inch stack did not enhance this - ok vanilla ice cream lay on crushed walnuts with a flavour which would recur. 6. Double espresso (good) with a chocolate truffle rolled in rancid walnut pieces. Fancy presentation (rectangular plates et al), decent service. Uninspiring wine list at the under £25 level. Cooking was slightly ambitious and flawed. I'm taking the Satay house every time.

Which one? I spent yesterday evening subcutaneously massaging a chicken with a yogurt/lemon juice/mix of 3 vaguely indian spices in the hope of imparting some interest to an undistinguished chicken. This evening roasted it - too much turmeric. Actually the left over marinade worked better with a partridge I had last night. (However the vialone nano I managed to turn mushy.)

What a pleasure to know that Cabrales is still eating. Intriguingly your account is mostly either anticipation or reflection, the slightly bald menu appended. So I can't tell whether I can understand the food served from the menu descriptions.

Just so. Though whether understanding culture translates into "cultured" is another matter. Similarly with drinking which has such a central role in many cultures. How can anyone claim to understand the various cultures of the British Isles without the experiences informed by the near-universal form of the Pub? And that is why becoming "well drunk" is a key step on my path to becoming cultured. How can anyone claim to understand the various cultures of the British Isles without the e

Paul who makes the prepped stuff is a reputable pig-botherer. Have had good jambon persille. the faggots are cooked there and you can buy them in a foil thing with a fork for local consumption. Very solid. better probably on a plate of mash. Think of them as two cricket balls of offal porky goodness.

Austrian? That's Italian with a German accent. I have had nice cakes/tarts from Konditor & Cook (I think Cooke is proprietor of a pie & mash place). But you wouldn't want an Austrian sandwich. I've not been able to bear the Chorizo bun queue for a while now. Steaming hot faggots from the Ginger Pig are the way to go in this weather.

Apparently Pizzle rot is more formally known as Posthitis. Perhaps an affliction some members of this site may recognise. I am generally not pleased when I take in a pizzle with the texture of pita bread. As you were.

Well after the deaths of the damn men surely she could have got a job playing tambourine in Peter Pumkino's band?

The 'Poltroon' Guy Dimond reviews very positively 'Signature' - what appears to be a fancy French Bistro at 114 Crawford St (close to Baker St - and no I don't do air saxophone). Any of you Cato St conspirators eaten there? In any event I will try lunch there in the next week.

My nominations are 1. 13thC for Pre-Black Death serf-farmed spicebox luxuria and 2.16thC for the impact of civil war, hundreds of years of fighting the French and a decisive break from Rome. My nominations: Tonyfinch to play Henry VIII Simon M Cardinal Wolsey Adam Francis Bacon Vanessa Bloody Mary MissJ Elizabeth I Kikujiro Erasmus

Time Out suggests 'Head of Steam' at 1 Eversholt Street. (bar Billiards, Free House with lots of real ales). What sort of event do you want - or rather whoever has forced you to go drinking near Euston want?

Good to see you Rapping Bartender. Though I'm rarely North of the River I can be found sometimes in Stokie looking for the grilled offal - do you have more details on your bar? (if you've got a website it would be helpful if that was part of your signature - in any event it would be great to know where your bar was).