Dipsolect.com

I believe it might have been Tolstoy who said something to the effect of “A man can live and be healthy without killing animals for food; therefore, if he eats meat, he participates in taking animal life merely for the sake of his appetite”.

There can be little doubt that there is a smidgeon of truth in this. (more…)

The frost is forming growing crystals of ice on the pavements of east London. Small clouds puff out of people walking along the streets as if they were tiny, human-powered steam locomotives. One by one, wrapping themselves warmer into their layers of Gore Tex, casting furtive yet flirtatious glances through the narrow slit between scarf and woolly hat, the multicultural mish-mash of people are scurrying along to implement their respective centrally heated escape plans.

Sure, it can be a cold and unhospitable world out there – and there’s nothing quite as draining of joie de vivre as Bethnal Green on a cold winter night. Which is where Tas Firin comes in. From the moment you open the door, and see the billows of heat and steam escape, reaching for the icy winter sky above, you realise that this is a different kind of restaurant. From the bar in the corner which made me think that perhaps Tas Firin used to be a Jamaican joint before they took the place over; it’s essentially one of those beach huts you find on Caribbean beaches, where they’ll serve you a mean Coconut Water and Rum along with a 20-minute tirade about the Meaning of Life. (more…)

[for the purpose of this review, please pretend it's formatted as a proper screenplay.]

Meeting at the death star

Inside a large, 20-sided room with tasteful but muted lighting.

The room has a long, horse-shoe shaped table in it. At the most rounded side of the horse-shoe stands DARTH VADER, obviously pissed off. The 10 or so aides available are huddled towards the legs of the horse-shoe shape

TALL AIDE WITH RED HAT
I'm really sorry, Emperor, I... (more...)

There aren’t that many international super-stars of cookery, but the British chef Gordon Ramsay (who has no less than 12 Michelin stars against his name at the time I’m writing this) is rapidly becoming one of them.

In an intriguing turn of events, he has decided to open a series of pubs, serving good, wholesome British pub-grub at very reasonable prices. So, is he taking on the lucrative J.D.Wetherspoons market for cash, or does he actually have something to add to this vastly over-crowded pub market? If my visit to the Narrow is anything to go by, it’s a bit of both, really. (more…)

I was first taken to Belgo with a friend who said ‘you’ve got to go at least once – it’s a pretty sweet place’. Boy was he ever right: Back when the elevator was still working, you were taken into a steel-cage industrial elevator into a basement, where you’d be forgiven for half expecting prisoners shackled to the walls, or angry Germans sitting behind desks, barking orders into world-war part deux style telephones. I always imagined it to be a little bit like ‘ze bunker’ in ‘allo ‘allo, where Herr Flick conducts his business.

Despite the tasteless anti-teutonic sentiments (I can get away with it, I’m part German), the place is pretty awesome: You sit on long, no-frills tables in Oktoberfest style, you’ve got a beer list the length of your arm (although if you’re really up for trying a lot of tasty beers, I’d recommend The Lowlander in Drury Lane, less than 4 minutes walk away from Belgo, instead), and a simple, yet effective menu. (more…)

I have a confession to make – I’m one of those ‘filthy furriners’ who came here to steal your jobs and women. So far, I’m struggling with the ‘jobs’ bit, and I imported my own woman, but nonetheless… Anyway, I’ve lived in the UK for 7 years, and I never had fish and chips until someone dragged me along to the Rock and Sole Plaice, citing it as ‘the best Fish and Chips in Her Royal Majesty’s Fine Kingdom’. Yeah, I have no idea how he actually managed to pronounce the capital letters, but I swear he did.

I was inclined to believe my friend, too, when we got to the place on a nice summery day and we found a 40-man-long queue for the take-away window – and not just clueless tourists either, the queue was mostly made up of locals… Never a bad sign, I figured, and gave it a whirl. (more…)

Dover is a strange old place – almost everyone who lives in the UK has gone through the place at one time or another, en-route to the European mainland. When I told people I was going to go to Dover, they responded with ‘Oh, that’s nice. Where are you going?’ ‘Dover’ ‘Yeah, but where are you going?’.

Sure, Dover has its own share of attraction – Dover Castle being one of the obvious ones – but we figured we’d try and see what else the place has to offer. Based on a very warm recommendation from the guest house where we were staying (East Lee in Dover town centre – which was great in itself), we set course for the interestingly-named The Restaurant, part of the Wallett’s Court country house, restaurant and spa in St. Margaret’s-at-Cliffe, just outside of Dover. (more…)

Gastro-pubs are rip-roaringly popular in the UK, for a great reason: You don’t pay silly money to eat well, you don’t have to worry about being served something you can’t identify, and it’s always exciting to get simple, wholesome meals done well.

The Morgan Arms is one such restaurant which gets consistently good reviews, and we decided we’d go and find out if it was worthy of its praise. We ended up at the Morgan on a quiet Wednesday night, where the ever-changing menu keeps even the frequent Morgan-ites on their toes. (more…)

Haozhan is a Chinese restaurant smack-bang in the middle of Chinatown in Soho, London. It’s a funny little place, wedged between a Chinese supermarket, and surrounded with traditional Chinese restaurants at all sides. We ended up choosing this restaurant over the others because it looked less traditional than others – sure, there were the classic, must-have paper lanterns, but it also looked modern, with a feel not entirely unlike the Bar Room Bar diagonally across the road – simple but modern furnishings, funky tunes (Manu Chao, Lamb, Aim, Rae and Christian and that ilk), friendly staff, and a great location.

The restaurant markets itself with ‘modern oriental dining’, which is a pretty good Ronseal approach to an explanation. The wine menu was small but well-chosen, they have a delicious selection of teas, but it’s the food which really sets the place apart. (more…)

Upon deciding we were going to foray to to Edinburgh more or less on a whim, we discovered that public transportation and planes were out, partially because of the late notice, and partially because the whole town was about to explode with Robert Burns celebrations for the legendary poet’s 250th birthday.

Anyway, the long and short of that is that we decided to drive the whole way from Reading to Edinburgh (which, including the return, was a good 840 mile drive). Needless to say, I was as knackered as a stubby-legged marathon runner by the time we made it anywhere near Edinburgh. On the border of West Linton, there was a sign promising us fine food and history and a bastion of scottishness, so we decided to take a well-earned break. (more…)