Monday 31 October 2011

[Restaurant - West African/Caribbean] This is Ehfrika!; African Kitchen Gallery of Euston

Location - Euston, London [UK]

I had never particularly felt myself as an easily influenced person - sure, amongst certain groups I may take on certain traits, and some decisions may be made indirectly through the actions or words of others, but otherwise, I think I follow my own route. As always however, actions speak louder than words. And ever since that faithful end of August day at the Notting Hill Carnival, I seem to be inadvertently/rather consciously/blatantly seeking out Caribbean and African foods. I can deny it all I want, but fact is, I have now formed a repertoire of Roti, and sampled a spectrum of Chin-chin, Moin-moin, Puff-puff and other amusing double-barrelled food items. I blame it on my Mauritian blood. 

Not that there is any particular wrong with chasing these diverse cuisines, foods that until that August day had remained almost completely unknown to me [excluding the fateful evening at Mosob], however, having had Ghanian food but a couple of days prior, and Caribbean on the very same day, the above choice may seem trivial, particularly considering my incessant need to explore seemingly every single restaurant in the London area. Why the choice of African Kitchen Gallery in particular? Not too sure - I guess it was not too far from my usual parking area, and was also not in Ghettotown one of the better rated restaurants, not that I pay much attention to the ratings from Urbanspoon and London Eating. However, I had also little experience in West African food, beyond the aforementioned double-barrelled treats, and had wished to expand on this particular area before progressing onto others, ignoring the Spinach & Egusi I had eaten for lunch on the Saturday.

So, after culminating the days gorgings, and following yet another food trail - and its resultant excessive indulgence - I drove up. Aghast at just how close it really was, the Satnav indicating a mere few minutes to reach the destination. Obviously the satnav is always wrong, and would say the moon is within the next few hundred yards on the left, but it was pleasingly close. A slight disappointment struck me though on nearing the restaurant - the words "Caribbean" being displayed among the signage portraying an image of the rather unconvincing stalls and such from the Notting Hill Carnival, and other less than authentic outlets. SIGH. I was still digesting my Curry Goat from lunch. Nevertheless, I have come this far, and peering at the menu on the window, I saw a welcome group of dishes I could not pronounce, and felt encouraged. 


~ Starters ~
- Pickled Carrots


Provided on the table when I sat down, I was not really expecting much beyond, well. Pickled carrots. These however..were no exemption. They were however, rather quite nice. Obviously not from a tin, the pickling was very sharp, almost pungent, and very interesting, the carrots nicely crunchy and with just enough of their flavour carrying through. I cannot pin down just how the pickling was different, or what it was reminiscent of - much as always - but it was certainly enjoyable. The carrots disappeared almost as quickly as they appeared.

- Akara Balls


A mere glance at the menu was enough to convince my choice for a starter - not only were Akara fritters something I knew, if only via the pages of Wikipedia, but not only was it a ubiquitous West African food item, but also in the Caribbean AND Brazil. I would practically be having a UN food party by ordering this. Getting over this rather weak conviction, I was presented with five Akara fritters assembled around a green paste and a sprinkling of chopped coriander. As always, I started with the separate components - starting with the paste, I was instantly mesmerised. What an interesting mix; a sharp almost citrus-like highlighting note to a slight herb infused..melange. It was similar to a lemon pickled courgette paste or something along those lines. It was absolutely delicious. Enquiring only added to the mystique. If I heard right, it is composed of avocado, pear [PEAR?!] and olive oil. That is it. I'm sure there must have been more, maybe some garlic, its impossible such generally quiet spoken ingredients would shout so loud.

Not forgetting that there were also the fritters to contend with, I then turned my attention to them. Very dense, proving actually a modicum of effort to cut through, they were humble, subtle, and generally..normal. Being a black bean fritter, they were appropriately slightly grainy/starchy in texture, slightly earthy in taste. They did however, come alive with the pear and avocado paste, or rather, the paste continued being awesome, with the fritter helping to take a slight edge off of the paste. A pleasant way to start the meal, and that paste rather defined much about the preparation of food, and how simplicity can sometimes make more than the sum of its parts. Again, avocado, and PEAR!


~ Main Course ~
- Ewa Jombolo


It is a bit concerning when sampling a new restaurant and its offered cuisine for the first time, and you struggle to choose a main course as you had already tried one of its few original dishes in the past. Or in my case, but a few days before. At least it made the infernal act of choosing simpler - I went with the aforementioned, comprising of steamed tilapia in a tomato and bean based stew with ground prawns. What was interesting is that Tilapia was always around in Saudi Arabia, particularly with the Filipino community, but it is a fish I have never tried, particularly as they were rather small, and apparently bony. What arrived certainly was not small, the cross-section seeming like that of a plane fuselage, almost in size. The restaurateur was right in forewarning that rice may not be needed as the portions are gargantuan.

Starting with the soup base, and the notions brought into view by the homely setting [of a home, amusingly], and the starters, rang true once again. A well seasoned, savoury, and incendiary stew. Whilst it had set my face aflame, I was still pleased. It was rather reminiscent of an Italian Pepata or a similar tomato-based Seafood stew from the area, with plenty of rich tomato jostling with the fresh sprinkling of coriander. The beans added a new dimension though, seemingly anarchistic to the "Mediterranean" flavours of the stew, but they fit in well, slightly crunchy to the bite and just subduing the slight tartness of the tomato stew with its grainy, earthy texture. The fish itself was not bad - never realised the tilapia had quite so much fat, but it was a juicy slice of fish, nice thick chunks proving clean in taste. It was also bony. The pivotal moment however came when I asked for some spicy encouragement, whereby a paste was provided. This paste. Was. Amazing. And it also had some heat to back up its immense flavour. It worked perfectly with the stew, being based on scotch bonnets, it was wonderfully tangy, and amazingly, had a beautifully smoky aroma which just worked. Worked so well. And apparently, the paste was just a combination of smoked scotch bonnets. And olive oil.

That is it. I also ordered a jar of the paste.


~ Desserts ~
- Coconut & Carrot Balls



No sooner had I finished, or rather, finished the predescribed amount of the main course in order to not fill my stomach up to the brim with the inevitable dessert, I was served this tiny plate of coconut & carrot balls. I am not going to complain about complimentary treats [hush you snivelling waistline]. Trying first the  dense little shotput on its own, tasting quite predominantly of coconut, but fresh coconut rather than the tinned or preserved kind. That much was obvious really from the previous dishes received though. It was subtle but rather enticing, with a bit of starchy flour to it as well. Subsequently dipping the ball into the cocoa powder only made them more addictive, with the cocoa adding a gentle bitterness to the slight sweetness of the balls.

One by one I fired them and they were rather quickly gone. And dessert was ordered.


- Mango Flan


Not being blessed - thankfully - with a particularly broad choice, nor actually that hungry, not that it would stop me, I continued on and ordered the mango flan regardless, opting away from the "starchy evil" banana flan, and the typical coconut. Receiving the flan I was modestly elated - it was rather ugly and deformed but most certainly it was not one of the usual anodyne truncated cone desserts in their usual beige blahness, taking on a certain character. It looked delicious, and it was surrounded by a pool of syrup and an exaggerated sprinkling of cocoa powder. Proof is in the fludding pudding, so I obliged. And I was confused. It was pleasant, but the flavour was rather different - not overtly mango-like, or at least, not the typically accepted mango-flavouring notion of mango, and a bit of a banana note creeping in as well. It was also distinctly not overly eggy like some can be, and it was deliciously natural tasting, crumbling with every bite, and even its own weight as pictured.

Quite pleasant, but perhaps disappointing in that it did not pound my face with mango.

- Coconut & Mango Balls


Thinking I had finished with dessert, my conscience grateful I had finally subsiding the eating for the day, some more gratuitous coconut balls were thrust upon me, as they were a recent batch and yada yada and I did not stop myself. More of the same, as delicious as the last, with a slight sweet tang to the former's starchier sweetness. Two, and that was it. I had to stop eating lest Africa find where all their missing food was going.



~ Drinks ~
- Home-made Ginger Beer


Not particularly wanting ginger beer or any sweet drink, but forever reminiscent about the ambrosial variety I tried at the Chelsea Market a while back, I meekly obliged. Quite obviously the contents of the drink were made clear, looking like a glass full of ginger smoothie. Sipping away, and, wow. It was not a shy drink, generous, no, oceanic amounts of ginger, quite vigorously spiced. Whilst I mistook it for cardamom, I was then corrected that it was infact cloves. Plenty of cloves. It was interesting, quite refreshing, and an awesome palate cleanser. As it essentially eviscerated all other flavours, but did not remain lingering.

This was not a ginger beer in the classic sense - granted, it was slightly fizzy, but this was essentially a fizzy ginger and cloves juice, very different, not subtle, and all the more intriguing for it.

~~~~

Contented, satisfied, and pleasantly surprised. Three descriptives I did not think I would be using at the conclusion of this meal, being somewhat less than impressed by the seemingly typical combination of African "and" Caribbean cuisines in restaurants of this ilk, fearing that somehow, it would be another Notting Hill Carnival. I already walked half of London for timid renditions of the respective cuisines back then, and I was not ready to experience the same, venturing out of my London Comfort zone. I need not have worried though, for the moment stepping in, my prejudices were redirected. Hoping for homely, honest food, somehow became a requisite notion. As this was essentially somebody's home. And the food certainly provided on that front - forcibly lowering my eyebrow at the sight of all the microwaves, it was clear that the meals were prepared by hand, freshly. Albeit not at that very moment. Flavours were pronounced, spices were proud, the food was not shy. 


Neither was the owner, who progressively engaged in more and more conversation. I could not complain as it earned me some free coconut balls midway, and he was rather engaging, despite my usual allergies to human contact. I still do not understand the story however; being originally from Sudan, and part Spanish, and his family being UK-based for the last 150 years, just how, or more importantly, why spurn a West African and Caribbean Restaurant. Also, where does the gallery come into it?! It does not make sense! And most importantly, it simply did not matter.
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Saturday 29 October 2011

[Restaurant - Filipino] Cravings, Nothing Else but Cravings; Josephine's of Fitzrovia

Location - Fitzrovia, London [UK]

It is peculiar what you are aware of and what you crave, only when that object is no longer part of your surroundings. It is also peculiar to note just why you crave it when you had never sampled it beforehand. Am I pregnant and suddenly becoming awash with diverse cravings? I don't know. What I do know is that lately I have been consumed by an innate desire to feast on the cuisine of the Philippines. This despite having lived the majority of my life within a measurable Filipino influence in the family. And never having any particular engaging with their food. I don't know either.

Throughout my years in Saudi Arabia, the Filipino influence was prevalent, with numerous maids aiding in my upbringing, and a rather prominent Filipino community being based in the country. I would pass eateries frequently, I would be in contact with them often, but never had I had any desire to explore further at the time. Though, it must be said, I probably had little idea of how it differed to other South East Asian cuisines and cultures at the time, I had no idea just how much of a minor obsession it would become. Following on my recent, well, let's just say "mission" for now, to explore the world's cuisines eventually, research had brought me onto the Philippines. A country, whose cuisine seemed to bring in influences from all over, then completely made distinct by varying distinguishing preparations and ingredients. The more I read, the more I became enamoured with the underlying basis of combining sweet with sour, savoury with bitter, all at once. I only ever became hungrier. Why had I not felt this way before, when all of this surrounded me?!

I soon hatched plans, to rectify this situation for whenever my eventual return to Saudi Arabia would be. I am however, grossly impatient, and would need retribution sooner. My first sampling actually came at the Notting Hill Carnival, where I let out a yelp of glee coming across a Filipino stall amongst the hoards of Caribbean fare. Granted, I only bought a Turon and a Hopia, it was a minor victory. A couple of months later saw a further diabetic treat sample in the form of Majablanca from Shepherd's Bush Market, but these were all little treats, not really forming any solid basis of the cuisine of the Philippines, as indulgently delicious as they were. I needed a meal. And rather surprisingly, there were several restaurants available, and not all located in some desolate Ethnic Community hotspot in East-side Ghettotown. Selecting a suitable date, I decided to sample the more renowned of the Filipino restaurants first, one that had apparently been visited by some unheard of celebrities - questionable bragging rights, celebrities have no taste - and was in the nicer part of London. Josephine's would thus be the first to answer the questions of my obsession. 


~ Starters ~
- Tinola Soup with Vegetables


Perusing through the menu, not much was found to be overly unique in the appetizers section, seemingly falling into the usual South East Asian loop of spring rolls, fried seafood and the like. Not that I really should have even thought of ordering starters considering the abhorrent gorging I had engaged in earlier in the day, but perhaps the replacing of oxygen in my blood with cigar smoke prior to dinner had affected my judgement. I also figured I may as well have a token portion of vegetables, in a vain hope of repelling some of the evils. As the Laing as not available in a "Starters" portion, I opted for the Tinola, a ginger-based soup.

Receiving a sizeable bowl filled with plenty of cabbage, zucchini, runner beans and other assorted vegetables, I was issued a warning/disclaimer for the chilli [*scoffs*], and then I took a sip. Ginger was the basing, the predominant, and the general flavour of the soup. A light vegetable broth, defined by the fresh fragrance of ginger. Exclusively so. The vegetables were also similarly plain, being just the right side of being well cooked, offering some bite, but not being terribly flavoured. The chilli was pleasing in its intensity though, its nice heat and zing combining well with the freshness of the ginger. Whilst not overly interesting, the chilli at least woke me up out of my smoky haze, and the copious ginger was at least freshening. And I also had some token fibre in my stomach.


~ Main Course ~
- Adobong Baboy


Whilst I initially had notions of asking for advice on what to choose as a main starter, preferring to leave the arduous task of choice to others - for my inane inability to do so - I quickly settled on the Adobo dish. If ever there were a dish that would offer a basing for the general Filipino cuisine, in my limited knowledge, it would be Adobo. So sayeth Wikipedia. Skipping on the rice, as every little helps, a sizeable plate of some rather delicious pork chunks arrives, rather quite quickly after the soup. Supposedly marinated with vinegars, sugars, and all sorts of spicing, the adobo is supposed to offer a representative realm of typical Filipino cuisine, melding sweet, sour, savoury and bitter tastes.

So I was rather disappointed when I tasted the sauce to find, sweetness. More sweetness. Sweetness some more. Maybe a bit of earthiness. Then some sweetness. It was not overtly sweet, I did not drop any limbs, but it was rather predominantly sweet. It was also rather generic. More than anything, it was similar to a black bean sauce, offering the same sort of earthy sweet notes, with a hint of soy sauce. Some black pepper was evident as well, as well as the fresh note of the garnishing coriander, but there was no sourness, bitterness or other qualities at all. It tasted like it was not new to me at all. The pork chunks however were pleasant enough, being tender and juicy, falling apart rather easily. Not difficult to envision considering the enormous chunks of fat some came with. I was however, left unenlightened. Wishing to discover so mind-bendingly eclectic, I was left with deja-food.


~ Dessert ~
- Halo-halo


Leaving my predisposition towards pastries, creams, and all things bad, I opted for the Halo-halo in the end, for the end of this rather quick-fire meal. Seemingly a favourite in the Philippines, the crushed ice desserts seem to be quite ubiquitous in Asia, something that did not really appeal to me. As much as I try, eating water just does not excite me. Regardless, it's traditional, a country favourite and yada yada, maybe I'll learn something new. Receiving the eating implement though, I also learnt that I would not be receiving it in a bowl:



The spoon amused. Then mildly terrified. What sort of beast would require such a monster of an implement to consume?! I received my answer. Struggling to see over the top of it, I was preseneted with a towering sundae glass of multi-layered, colourful excess. It seemed to contain everything, from the preserved fruit, to a geneorus helping of crushed ice, swimming in coconut milk and finally topped by a scoop of purple [PURPLE?!] ice-cream, and a slice of flan. Perhaps a sprinkling of fairy dust and some forest creatures lay in there as well. I was told to mix it up. Which was far easier said than done, as the layer of crushed ice had seemed to have compacted into a solid mound under the mass of its own gravitational field. So I started with the purple ice-cream, which I presumed to be ube [sweet potato]. Rather ube it was as well, not terribly distinct but rather..earthy, almost starchy in its flavour, not quite of sweet potato, but different all the same. The flan was also enjoyable enough, not too eggy and a light caramel flavouring evident. Attacking the ice without making a mess was difficult. The solid clumps made any effort to penetrate them result in the dessert trying to escape the cup.

Eventually I broke through, the ice not being particularly memorable oddly enough, though the parts drenched in coconut milk were at least a bit more interesting. I eventually reached the preserved fruit, scooping them out precariously trying not to upset the balance of the towering dessert. They were different - not sure what I was expecting, but in texture and flavour they were very much like a very dense jelly. They added a sweetness rather obviously, but, I find it hard to define any actual flavour. More of a flavouring, tasting a bit too commercial grade perhaps. I forget completely what fruit they were. The slivers of buko were nice though, providing some sweet coconut aroma to meld with the coconut milk and generally add some interest to the ice. Annoyingly the ube ice-cream had melted and joined the slush, but there being so much slush meant it was lost in the sea. An imposing, intriguing, and intimidating dessert, all at once. It was quirky, but also rather sedate. It did get consumed to the last drop though.


~ Drinks ~
- Calamansi Juice


Romanced by a notion that I would somehow feel closer culturally to the gastronomic spectrum of the Philippines blindly following what the menu instructed, I opted for a Calamansi Juice as a drink. More sugary drinks. Yay. Whilst the Tapuy I had wanted in vain was not available, I figured being a citrus juice it would at least..well. I do not actually have an excuse for having ordered it. It was rather similar to a lime juice, but an earthier flavour, possibly from the palm sugar used. Somehow it was also not as acidic, and rather subdued. It was pleasant, but not particularly interesting. Though this would be perhaps a case of expecting far more from something than the sum of its parts, it is just a citrus juice in the end.

~~~~

After the five or so minutes it took for the dinner to start, and then conclude, I was left in a bit of a quandary. Whilst the meal was very much satisfying, it was more so through its safe, rather generic flavouring and ample portions than through any originality, enlightening diversity or eclectic tastes. The service was quick, almost too quick, which perhaps defined the type of food that would be served, the whole three courses being served almost straight after the prior was finished. Whilst I can only speculate, I can only imagine that dishes being made from scratch may take a bit longer than that to create. I was also not sure it was the most authentic of experiences, a point that rings true for many establishments, though once again, I base this without knowing any better. Nevertheless, I was not particularly intrigued by much of the food, the soup being rather basic in its composition, and the main course being rather generic, tasting much like a typical sticky sauce based dish at any number of Asian restaurants. Maybe Wikipedia misled me, but in this meal, I did not feel like anything new was being experienced, like a truly representative culinary image was being sampled.

Granted, the Halo-halo was entertaining, but again, it was simplistic in its nature, more intriguing for its gargantuan size and resultant self-contained gravitational field. However, I was not left completely disappointed. Service was friendly, they actively engaged, though being one of the only patrons there, they probably could. In the end, I came away unenlightened. Be it for the area, the need to play it safe with food in order to attract more of the mainstream, but I did not feel I received a representative meal here of the Philippines - what I had seemed very "tempered" and generic, compared to the extreme notions of sweet/sour/savoury I had read about. Suffice it to say, my obsession has not been answered. For better, or for worse. I will certainly enjoy trying to find out more about what the Philippines has to offer though. Balut and all. 


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Monday 17 October 2011

Plus ça Change..

Several rituals have become the bedstead of life, be it personal obsessive idiosyncrasies throughout the day, or shared general progressions for a typical evening out. They can occasionally draw ruing for their predictability, or comfort through their familiarity. Following a meal in Jeddah, typically the evening is capped with a saunter over to a shisha cafe' to help "digestion". As evidenced by the plethora of outings to cigar lounges of late, it would seem they have become the new shisha. Albeit on a far more wallet debilitating scale.

As such, being Huzaifah's last evening in London since a while, and for a while, he was rather intent on following up dinner with another cigar experience. Where at?




Rather obviously. He seems to be quite taken with the place - this is the third time in two weeks we will have come here - I don't blame him. This will be my sixth or so appearance in as many weeks. Not that it has to be said, but I have already stated the rightness of the serenity, the calm, the excellency of service and advice. All I need is to be paid to experience this delight and it would be perfect, but that would be greedy. Awesome, but greedy. Yet again, I let the choice befall on the Barman, this time suggesting to me a Bourbon to go with my cigar, a Bourbon which I had actually got my first sampling of the week prior at the Harrod's tasting.

Montecristo No. 4
Makers Mark Bourbon on Ice
The terrace was empty - after ousting a couple, how dare they impinge - which boded well. Seated and served of our tipple, ambience calm, temperature almost perfect, just approaching a bit chilly, though I revelled in the new purchase of my fabulous sweater, keeping me warmth, if only on the upper half of my body. The cigar was pleasant, light and with a reasonable drag for its size, and the usual tones of slight chocolate and coffee seemingly the only ones I can sense in a cigar. The Bourbon on first thoughts, was disappointing, mainly as it seemed to contain the iceberg that sank the Titanic. However, despite being slightly watered down by this glacial body, it soothed with its mild sweetness, and slight almond notes (?). It also helped that it paired particularly well with the cigar, the sweetness coming alive and supplementing the cigars' lightness of body. 

The evening ensued, with some mint tea and espresso coming our way, primarily as I would still have a lot of travelling for the night, taking on chauffeur duties for Huzaifah, both of which were as well, rather boringly, pleasant. Especially of note were the "petite fours" served, a chocolate/almond brownie square and the shortbread biscuit, which were delicately sweet, and in the case of the brownie, deliciously nutty, and somehow worked with the mint tea as well as the clean and elegant espresso. As such, putting a pleasant cap on the evening, an enjoyable and serene smoke amidst contemplation and good company, following our thrifty dinner of Kings, much as with every outing in Jeddah. The more things change..
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Friday 7 October 2011

[Lounge - Cigar Lounge] Short Take - No Fire without Smoke: Garden Room at The Lanesborough, Knightsbridge


A change of plans. A change of circumstances. A change of minds..

All and one of the same had led to my first, quite anticipated visit to the Garden Room at The Lanesborough, all perhaps to the changing of pace, but certainly not changing the extortionate cost of the evening. Suffice it to say, there would be no change left by the end of the evening. 

In my quest to scout out potential lounging areas, areas where time could be whiled away in serenity, and to further build on my utter freshness to the world of cigars, I have particularly been seeking out cigar lounges. I came across the Garden Room on a Bar Review website, showing an expansive space, with regal furniture and seemingly overgrown garden, all contained within the warm glowing enclave of a refined room. To say that I was sold was needlessly stating the most obvious of facts - my wallet had gone awol at the thought. When it came time to actually visit the establishment for the first time however, the notion of peace and enjoyable serenity was cruelly vanquished. It was a Tuesday evening, relatively early, and the garden room was packed to the brim. The lights were bright, and the clientelle was predominantly young, money-laden and fashionable. Damn whippersnappers, they'd certainly cramp on my octogenarian wishes for peace. I was not confident. Not that a quick perusal of the menu helped matters.

Fast forward to this Friday evening, where former plans to enjoy an evening out at a bar were thwarted by secretive marital discussions and and reservations amongst the assembled company and baggage, and rather than sully the serenity of my now established refuge, I suggested a swift skip to the nearby Lanesborough to try something new. After having just eaten at CUT, we'd be coy to say we couldn't afford it, what with our ridiculous dinner cost. My bank account yelped. 

On arrival I was pleasantly surprised; what was formerly filled with bustling, young, socialites, was now sparsely littered with a few older individuals. Still probably money-laden. I have a knack for stating the obvious, I was eminently the only one making grandiose connection between the area, pricing and image of the area and the sort of people it invariably attracts. The lighting was also subdued, and calm, low-key. After a quick advising from the Italian waiting staff member and some good suggestions, the cigar and drink were chosen, and we resumed back at our seats. 

Montecristo Edmundo
Cigar arrived, lit, and sampled. Rather light in body but also exquisitely smooth and a lovely drag. Conversation ran slow, and slightly constrained, and I continued with my cigar, which with every draw drew further admiration. Usually preferring character, body and impact to perhaps the subtler nuance, perhaps generally as I am rather unobservant, I was astonished by the mellifluous calm of this cigar. Each draw was delicate, a smooth, slight cocoa and coffee smoky [REALLY?!] infusion, which strangely remained subdued. The time whiled away, and stubbornly the cigar refused to get "hot", peppery or spicy, as many do. This despite my incessant smoking - I grow impatient of the time sans cigar - the cigar defiantly remained silken.

Flor de Caña 18yo Rum
This is not to discount the liquid partner to the cigar as well. Another rum this time, it was a delightful example, flamboyant in its aroma, a promising partner to the cigar smoking sweet nothings. Lovely, fruity, it generated a harmony with the cigar, its smoothness providing a backdrop for a creamy amalgamation. Despite reaching to the point of being difficult to be held by my stubby fingers, the cigar maintained its serene path. This may reserve should be just as stubborn and let the cigar burn my fingers, but the rather disarming cocktail sampled earlier in the evening along with the rum, and my persistent replacing of oxygen with delectable fumes of cocoa in my bloodstream had conspired to leave me rather debilitated. The time had whiled away, and the closing stages of the evening were approaching.

Whilst not a completely laid back experience, not by any fault of the location, but rather of the aforementioned company, I was left enlightened. Excellent service by a "paesan", a stunning combination of a silken smoke and a characterful partner in drink, and a subdued and refined ambience. Maybe in my disgust of the youth of today, a haze had clouded what I seen? Ageing is vicious. Though, the question will always remain of if this experience can be repeated quite so dependably, seeing as this being the evening of the end of a week, was rather against the grain. Garnering a minor stroke at the bill, we paid, and bid adieu to a pleasurable experience. The relative calm of the Garden Room rather drastically being replaced by an Operatic Singer in disguise as a taxi driver.

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