It's been far too long since either of us posted. Needless to say, there have been rather big changes both of our lives - turns out the North is actually pretty cool (in more ways than one - bring a jacket). I now live in Leeds which is a loooong way away, but full of amazing places to eat, so what a great way to get the blog started back up again with The Botanist.
Like its Bristol namesake, The Botanist is a cool and classy establishment that serves delectable meals. Unlike the Bristol version, I can actually afford to eat here without needing to take out another bank loan. Incidentally, a northern-based friend from my time at Bristol recently celebrated his birthday in Leeds at Cielo Blanco (see my next blog post!) and we ended up here afterwards for drinks. Its fascinating, rustic interior (check out the chandelier-esque lighting) is complemented by a myriad of craft beers and ales no-one's ever heard of - typical hipster Leeds.
A few days afterwards my best friends came up to visit and, being fairly cheap, we decided to have a few drinks there before heading off elsewhere to eat. Except, we never left. Sitting in the heated outside area on the hardest-to-sit-on bar stools you'll ever come across our eyes kept being drawn to the open kitchen where wonderful creations continued to be brought out.
Being a bit boring, all 3 of us opted for the same thing - a simple beefburger. Beefburgers aren't particularly difficult to get right, but to make them special is something else. Somehow these plain beefburgers tasted incredible. Perhaps it was the salsa served in a tiny jar? Or the perfectly seasoned chips? Or the fact it all came served on a wooden tray? Or perhaps there's just something in this northern water that makes those cows extra special? Either way, The Botanist delivered.
Although given the choice of pink or well-done, the burger patty itself wasn't quite well-done enough for my liking, but still tasted delicious. My error was to add a blue cheese topping - it didn't quite work; perhaps not a strong enough cheese to balance the saltiness of the burger. Should have gone for the bacon - always the best default topping.
Overall, it was a lovely experience - definitely better than your average gastropub - and suitable for a nicer occasion. The outside does get busy though and the awkwardness of those bar stools doesn't help, but still worth a visit.
*A*
Showing posts with label chips. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chips. Show all posts
Thursday, 6 November 2014
Friday, 27 June 2014
London - VQ
3am and drawn to the light like a mosquito to a light, we stumbled across VQ along the Fulham Road in Chelsea. We had heard great tales; tales of jaegerbombs and brownies at 8am, of pancakes and breakfast treats at 1am - the legend awaited us in all its shining glory. A 24 hour bistro with a full licence.
Indeed the stories were true - pancakes can be consumed any time of day - with ice cream or bacon depending on what you fancy and alcohol does indeed flow throughout the night and into the next day and through that night too and so forth.
One friend opted for the pancakes - a good choice, albeit at £9. As a typical fairly drunk recent graduate, all I really wanted was a plate of chips. After a bit of a wait what the 'chef' returned to me was not quite what I was expecting. I have to admit, 'Truffle oil chips with blue cheese dip' for £3.50 sounded like a bit of a steal. Rather than some slightly posh fluffy potato scrumptiousness, I was presented with a bowl of what were essentially ready salted crisps. No hint of truffle oil to be found. I paid £3.50 for a packet of crisps... I can't even use the excuse 'this is Chelsea after all', even for Chelsea that's a rip-off. The saving grace though was the blue cheese dip which was actually very tasty with my crisps. My friend however, was not so lucky, ordering 'rustic Italian bread' and receiving - yes, you guessed it - toast.
Attempting to find the least over-priced drink on the menu was fairly difficult, but I settled for a strawberry and mango iced tea which was incredible. Just what I needed.
Having queued to squeeze into this tiny restaurant-bar to receive sub-standard, well-marketed food we were already pretty peeved. The final nail in the coffin was when we received our receipt which was the first time we were told that we were paying for entry to the dive. Frankly, I wouldn't have minded if we'd had to pay on the door, but to deceive us up to the point of no return is fairly disgraceful.
Like the mosquito and the light, we'd been drawn in by the allure of the light, only to receive an unexpected death, the death being our money, which felt like it was being snatched from our hands (hypothetically of course - the staff were actually fairly pleasant). We walked towards the light and got our comeuppance. Don't make the same mistake.
A
Indeed the stories were true - pancakes can be consumed any time of day - with ice cream or bacon depending on what you fancy and alcohol does indeed flow throughout the night and into the next day and through that night too and so forth.
One friend opted for the pancakes - a good choice, albeit at £9. As a typical fairly drunk recent graduate, all I really wanted was a plate of chips. After a bit of a wait what the 'chef' returned to me was not quite what I was expecting. I have to admit, 'Truffle oil chips with blue cheese dip' for £3.50 sounded like a bit of a steal. Rather than some slightly posh fluffy potato scrumptiousness, I was presented with a bowl of what were essentially ready salted crisps. No hint of truffle oil to be found. I paid £3.50 for a packet of crisps... I can't even use the excuse 'this is Chelsea after all', even for Chelsea that's a rip-off. The saving grace though was the blue cheese dip which was actually very tasty with my crisps. My friend however, was not so lucky, ordering 'rustic Italian bread' and receiving - yes, you guessed it - toast.
Attempting to find the least over-priced drink on the menu was fairly difficult, but I settled for a strawberry and mango iced tea which was incredible. Just what I needed.
Having queued to squeeze into this tiny restaurant-bar to receive sub-standard, well-marketed food we were already pretty peeved. The final nail in the coffin was when we received our receipt which was the first time we were told that we were paying for entry to the dive. Frankly, I wouldn't have minded if we'd had to pay on the door, but to deceive us up to the point of no return is fairly disgraceful.
Like the mosquito and the light, we'd been drawn in by the allure of the light, only to receive an unexpected death, the death being our money, which felt like it was being snatched from our hands (hypothetically of course - the staff were actually fairly pleasant). We walked towards the light and got our comeuppance. Don't make the same mistake.
A
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