London, England, United Kingdom
The Admiral Codrington is a pub, but we didn't really get pub grub when we ate there. (Trust me, when its 80 degrees outside, the last thing you want is shepherd's pie.) As it turns out, the Admiral Codrington is also a restaurant, or a gastropub, if you will.
We didn't have any reservations, so the hostess (or whatever they're called in England) said we could eat if we were done by eight o'clock. As it was barely six-thirty, we said okay. We were expecting to be rushed through our dinner, as we probably would have been at an American restaurant. We should have had more faith. It turns out that we had some of the nicest wait staff I have ever encountered. They told us to take our time and enjoy our meal. Imagine that.
It was a very good meal, too. I had the red snapper with minestrone, and my wife had the fish cake with peas. For dessert, I had the blood orange sorbet, also excellent. I think my wife won though. She had what they call honeycomb ice cream which was vanilla ice cream with ribbons of frozen honey. Watch the drool on the keyboard.
The Admiral Codrington is located in the Brompton area of London, within walking distance of the South Kensington tube station. The address is 17 Mossop Street, London, SW32LY; Telephone: 020 7581 0005. It was recommended to us by the concierge at the highly recommended Pelham Hotel.
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Paul
London, England, United Kingdom
Ah, the perils of ordering coffee when traveling in a foreign country! (Even if they do speak English.) What if you order the wrong thing? What if you screw up your order so badly that they laugh at you? What if you freeze up when the person behind the counter asks you what you want? What if you take so long that the person behind you stabs you in the back with a butter knife? Hey, it could happen.
Actually we loved going to Paul when we were in London. The South Kensington location of this French bakery was across the street from our hotel. Once you get down that “Americano” means “watered-down espresso” and that it's the closest thing to regular coffee, and that “white” means “with milk,” you’re golden, and you won’t look like the obnoxious girl in line behind up one day who ordered a grande skinny decaf latte. Let me tell you how well that went over. Although, I have to admit that I didn’t know the proper term for the pastry my wife kept ordering. She said her grandmother calls it an “elephant ear.” I didn’t find out that the correct term was “palmier” until our last day. I had just been calling it “one of those.”
For some reason, although Paul is a French bakery, I expected English people to be working there. Nope. They were actually French. And it didn’t take long to notice that more than half of the people in line were also French. I know this because they spoke French to the French people behind the counter who spoke French back. It wasn’t until about the fourth day of our trip that we noticed that our hotel was next to the French embassy. Keen powers of observation, I tell you.
In any event very much enjoyed our lazy mornings sitting on the sidewalk sipping our coffee and reading the London Times, pretending to be true Londoners, or Parisians as the case may have been. Paul is a chain, and they have locations throughout London.
By the way, I highly recommend our hotel, The Pelham. They have one of the most comfortable beds I’ve ever slept in. They give you bottled water every day. The have complementary copies of the London Times. And heated towel racks (!).
Ah, the perils of ordering coffee when traveling in a foreign country! (Even if they do speak English.) What if you order the wrong thing? What if you screw up your order so badly that they laugh at you? What if you freeze up when the person behind the counter asks you what you want? What if you take so long that the person behind you stabs you in the back with a butter knife? Hey, it could happen.
Actually we loved going to Paul when we were in London. The South Kensington location of this French bakery was across the street from our hotel. Once you get down that “Americano” means “watered-down espresso” and that it's the closest thing to regular coffee, and that “white” means “with milk,” you’re golden, and you won’t look like the obnoxious girl in line behind up one day who ordered a grande skinny decaf latte. Let me tell you how well that went over. Although, I have to admit that I didn’t know the proper term for the pastry my wife kept ordering. She said her grandmother calls it an “elephant ear.” I didn’t find out that the correct term was “palmier” until our last day. I had just been calling it “one of those.”
For some reason, although Paul is a French bakery, I expected English people to be working there. Nope. They were actually French. And it didn’t take long to notice that more than half of the people in line were also French. I know this because they spoke French to the French people behind the counter who spoke French back. It wasn’t until about the fourth day of our trip that we noticed that our hotel was next to the French embassy. Keen powers of observation, I tell you.
In any event very much enjoyed our lazy mornings sitting on the sidewalk sipping our coffee and reading the London Times, pretending to be true Londoners, or Parisians as the case may have been. Paul is a chain, and they have locations throughout London.
By the way, I highly recommend our hotel, The Pelham. They have one of the most comfortable beds I’ve ever slept in. They give you bottled water every day. The have complementary copies of the London Times. And heated towel racks (!).
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