The Guardian, 28 February
Matthew Norman visits Boisdale of Belgravia, London W1
Stretching the "If you can't say anything nice ... " principle till it confesses to every crime in human history, I'd like to congratulate the owner of Boisdale of Belgravia on a magnificent, Scottish-themed restaurant - with one proviso. That's what I'd like to do if he means it as a patriotic Scot's act of vengeance against the English for the centuries of abuse and misrule. But if his intentions vary one iota from that, what I'd like to do to him is more on the lines of what Elizabeth I did to her cousin Mary. Or, at least, what William of Orange did to Mary's great-grandson James II (VII of Scotland) a century later, and drive him into exile. For this is as desultory, complacent, self-reverential and ridiculous a venture as you will find, and now as woefully anachronistic (£47.50 for a 12oz fillet steak!) as dreams of a Stuart Restoration.
Boisdale of Belgravia - review in full >>
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The Independent, 28 February
John Walsh visits The Old Bakery, Lincoln
I've heard from several people about the Old Bakery in Lincoln: they told me it has two Michelin stars, the most amazing fusion cooking, the most stunning early-Victorian dining room, the most elaborate cheeseboard, the prettiest waitress in The East, the longest waiting list for a table outside of El Bulli ... How foodies love to exaggerate. But with endorsements like these, I had to investigate. The weather was dismal, I missed my connection at Newark and had to pay £35 for a taxi to Lincoln, but the sight of the Old Bakery cheered me up. The first thing you see is a serious wine rack; the second is an un-Victorian Bang & Olufsen multi-CD player; the third is Alan Ritson, a very welcoming class of host; the fourth is the conservatory that he installed a year ago – even on a rainy February, light pours through glass on all sides, making the lunchers' faces glow like Giotto saints.
The Old Bakery – review in full >>
The Times, 28 February
Giles Coren visits Lucknam Park, Colerne, Wiltshire
The staff at Lucknam Park are, with barely an exception, German. And that creates a most unusual effect on the visitor. You drive up the long, sweeping, tree-lined drive, and smile as the gorgeous pre-Georgian manor house looms into view. You spin round the gravel forecourt and screech to a halt outside the imposing main entrance, feeling awfully English, awfully like Sebastian Flyte returning to Brideshead for the hols, and then a chap in a butler’s outfit opens your door and says, “Gut mornink, und vellcome zu Lucknam Park!” And then he leads you to a desk where a cute blonde looks up from her reservation book and says, “Ah, Mr Coren, ve heff been expecting you!” Which is enough to make any Englishman freeze in his boots, and begin surreptitiously scoping the exits. Suddenly, you are in one of those Forties propaganda movies that show how England will be in the future if Jerry wins the war.
Lucknam Park – review in full >>
The Sunday Telegraph, 28 February
Zoe Williams visits Market, London NW1
I am no stranger to these parts of north London, but I will admit that the last time I actively haunted Camden it was because it was full of cheap silver jewellery in the shape of skulls. Now it is so full of restaurants it looks like one of those nature shows about emperor penguins. 'How will they survive?’ I worry. 'They’re all so close to one another!’ Market’s interior does not distinguish it from any mid-range trendy food-spot this side of 1993. Exposed brickwork, functional grey paint on the odd pillar and school-type wooden chairs do not heap luxury upon the atmosphere, but I don’t mind that. These are the times we live in, after all, and also I find velvet makes me sleepy.
Market – review in full >>
By Janet Harmer
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