Ah, the mutation into an eating blog continues apace: fridge still full, social life still active... Usual day routine of cereal soup and bag of something horrid but low-cal (quavers this time) yesterday, then out in town with Hwsgo, for a pleasant change. A pint of Spitfire at the seriously difficult to find Cock and Woolpack (pleasant wood-panelled pub with decent beers, down Finch Lane, between Cornhill and Threadneedle Street, but the buildings are so tall and close together that you can't see it from Cornhill), then dinner at Imperial City.
The online reviews for Imperial City weren't great, but Hwsgo usually knows what he's doing, and as usual was right about this one. The restaurant is in a basement, and has that lovely Victorian sewer architectural style of arching handmade bricks twinned with discreet good taste, which also pretty well describes the waiters (waitpeople? Has that term made it over the pond yet?). We started with seaweed and eel as suggested by Hwsgo because they go well together. They did: the eel was plump inside with a suitably dry edge to it, and the seaweed was, well, chinese seaweed (i.e. cabbage), done well (i.e. inoffensively). I had crispy duck for main course (goes well with the beer I'd had earlier) and Hwsgo sea bass; both cooked well, and the sea bass plump and fresh. The wine was a little punchy with apricots but calmed down after an eel-based talking-to: all-in-all, an elegant dinner in a place that allowed us the priviledge of relaxed conversation (sometimes a rare commodity in an English restaurant). Then off to the Counting House for some well-deserved whisky and people-watching. Although someone who won't be mentioned (but ratted on my chocolate frenzy earlier in the week) did manage to snaffle some chocolatebars on the way home...
Today I am mostly not hungover (unexpectedly) and 166.4lbs. Tonight I am planning another outing to the gym, this time combined with some plodging up and down the pool. One day I shall be thin...ner...ish... Scrub that plan: some of the livelier types from work dragged me (kicking and screaming honest) off to Ceroc tonight. Lots of fun, but it will take quite some time for me to stop looking like an engineer remembering how to count to four...
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5 comments:
I see that you didn't admit it was Glenmorangie. I know, I know, far too sweet for a true (twoo?) whisky snob but I liked it.
I *like* Glenmorangie. It's just the word that's difficult; like 'dissertation', you're never quite sure when you start it about how long it's going to be before it stops. Now 'Cardhu': there's a word that knows when its work is done and it can have a well-deserved teabreak. I draw the line at 'Bells' though; it really isn't trying hard enough.
I'll see your Cardhu and raise you an Auchentoshan. If the river card goes my way I'm going all in with Bunnahabhain. I would go with Dallas Dhu but I don't have the shoulder pads for it.
Ah my friend, Laphroiag will win every time...
Lap-hero-iag?
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