Sundays are boring. I usually spend mine monging out in my vastest and least alluring pants, hatefully eyeing the enormous pile of ironing that inevitably accumulates over the course of the week. It was nice, therefore, to buck the trend a few weeks ago and round off the weekend with a champagne-soaked evening at the Rosewood […]
Emily Gibson / Chill, Dates, Do, Drink, Eat, Impulse Friendly, Indoors, Mums, Organised Fun, ££ / cocktails, dates, dining, dining out, eating out, going out, London, Notting Hill Gate, pop-ups, quirky, quirky dates, restaurants, review, things to do, unusual, west London / 4 Comments
This time last week I was on my way to a blogger dinner at The Little Yellow Door, a new Notting Hill pop-up that promised a house party vibe without – presumably – the possibility of Blink 182 coming on, or the constant threat of your parents coming home from the pub and force-feeding everyone […]
Emily Gibson / Dates, Drink, Eat, Impulse Friendly, Indoors, Mums, Outdoors, ££ / British, dates, dining, dining out, dinner, eating out, going out, Kensington, lunch, nose-to-tail, Notting Hill Gate, quirky, restaurants, review, romantic, special occasions, sustainable, unusual, west London / 3 Comments
There’s something slightly depressing about the phrase ‘English tapas’. For me, the idea of ‘tapas’ conjures up visions of glorious Mediterranean sunsets, al fresco dining and big jugs of ruby red sangria. (Yes, yes, I have the imagination of a lobotomised tomato. So sue me.) Anything associated with our own little isle, on the other hand, […]
Alternative Thanksgiving at Smoke & Salt, discovered via Grub Club’s revolutionary new platform for pop-ups
There’s a rather lovely new idea spilling into the London food scene at the moment. Its name is Grub Club, and it’s a platform from which both professional chefs and enthusiastic amateurs can set up fleeting, blink-and-you’ll-miss-’em pop-ups, often just for the fun of it. The objective is to connect Londoners with the city’s untapped […]
Words cannot describe how excited we were to visit L’Atelier de Joel Rubuchon. We’d put on proper shoes, strapped ourselves in to our big girl pants and made a pact not to swear for at least two hours, or at least not loudly. For a brief while, we were going to be Ladies.