Friday Night Delight

With no plans in sight on Friday night but a spontaneous pub dinner with friends in the neighborhood, I cycled down my street to meet my friends on Notting Hill's notoriously wet Westbourne Park Road to grab some grub at the famous Conran-owned pub The Cow. I dismounted my bike only to find that the buzzing pub was already packed with people and the windows were steamed from the warm breaths of giddy English drinkers. 

I smiled, it was exactly what I needed. I was home. My friends were already there, waiting, sipping on a pint or two. And the great thing was, as we looked around curiously, we all turned back to each other, and smiled at the fact that it was Friday. We were all so pleased to be there. After waiting for our table, the waitress sat us down at the cozy corner by the fire place where we were sure to get overheated. But we didn't care. The menu came by, we didn't dare to open it. We knew what we wanted. There is no point in denying it, we all skipped the part where we all pretend to be open-minded about what we're going to order, and we fast-forwarded to the part where we call upon the waitress for three fish stews and a chilled bottle of cabernet. A small grin appeared on her face, as she is of course, is used to this non diversity of orders, since the place is, after all, renowned for its mouth-watering fish stew.

The plates arrived and there are no words to describe our sense of ecstasy. It was like we had been working hard that whole week and waiting for a moment special like that one to make all of our troubles disappear. One sip of the soup, one bite into the aioli toast, and one munch of the steaming fish chunks later, it was done, we were in paradise. If you ask me, there is noting more satisfying than going to a restaurant where there is no choosing to be made. You've known what you wanted to eat that whole week, have been day dreaming about it for the last couple hours and you know this will hit the spot just right if you accompany it with a glass of wine. But then again, that's just my idea of a perfect Friday night. What's yours?

A Member's Club for Non-Members

If you've ever had a the pleasure of dining at the Oak in Notting Hill and tasting one of the best truffle pizzas in all of London, then you've probably made it upstairs to their super duper exclusive-looking lounge, with its super duper non-exclusive door policy.

Upstairs at the Oak looks like my non-existent rich aunty's uber-luxurious Chelsea mansion-style living room, which for some strange reason ended up on the top floor of a pizza restaurant. Last night, I had the pleasure of taking a friend there for a warm and cozy glass of Sangiovese, some split pea puree with flatbreads and roasted aubergine tapas on the side. After far too many glasses of wine and far too much conversation, we both realized that the lights had come on and it was time to go home. I always hated being that last person at a bar or a party - it always makes me feel like a bit of a loser (moi, loseuhr?). So needless to say, we were having a good time.

And a good time it was. Sitting way too comfortably on an velvety sofa, occasionally staring at an old blurry (or was that just my eyesight gone awry) painting of some unknown white-haired/white-bearded 18th century nobleman, hiccupping through 3 glasses of wine and munching away on some delicious home-cooked style Italian tapas, we forgot to leave. 
Personal note #1: get the hint - if you're still lounging around at a bar when the lights go on, you've probably overstayed your presence. Personal note #2: get the hint - if you're still sipping on wine when the lights go on, you'll probably feel as flimsy as I do today. Personal note #3: Have a great day, zesties!