That’s right folks, this blog isn’t only about fashion, it’s about cuisine, culture, nightlife and more – anything and everything associated with being young, and living in a big city. So here comes your first post on that front – as free of fashion as I can make it.
One of the best parts about my arrival in London is that I am overlapping for a week with all of my wonderful friends who have had the pleasure of living in this city since January. I got to rendez-vous with these abroadees that I have missed so dearly to celebrate a 21st birthday – surprise style! Unbeknownst to the birthday boy his parents flew across the pond to throw him a special dinner – and not just any dinner – an all around wonderful evening event at one of London’s newest hot spots.
I must admit I can get stuck in my ways. The same bars and restaurants in central London night after night because I love them, and to be honest love their consistency – I can be confident about my service the minute I walk through the door. That being said, when I was told to meet the ol’ crew in Shoreditch, my response may not have been as tactful as it would be having now been there. This re-vamped, re-furbished, re-juvenated part of London clearly slipped under my radar. When I’m wrong, I’m wrong – the Boundary hotel/bar/restaurant sure showed me.
We began our evening on the rooftop terrace bar, proceeded downstairs to a dim lit, delicious three-course meal, and finally resigned to a two-story suite complete with balcony. The weather could not have been more beautiful to watch the sun set over the city from the rooftop and the ambience in the lower level dining area made for a wonderfully chic but not too formal atmosphere to commemorate a coming of age. While the pâté spread appetizer won me over in the savory department, the triple chocolate number that came out with candles took the cake so to speak. I admit: I ate my piece as well as the icing off of not only one but both of the gentlemen’s plates sitting next to me. Wonderfully company, fabulous food, and an all over immensely enjoyable evening.
But my night did not stop there. With one of my favorite partner’s in crime by my side, we met up with her brother in Piccadilly at a club called Cuckoo – equipped with colored lighting, a jamming DJ booth, and just enough room to dance. The chesterfield style booths were an especially nice touch in such an eclectic and modern atmosphere glowing every hue of indigo, azure, and magenta. Home at 4:30 am – I call that a successful Saturday night.
My weekend of impeccable cuisine didn’t end there, however. Sunday night, my mom and I went one of our newer favorites, Bumpkin, which happens to be only 3 minutes walk from my new flat. A comfortable and casual dining experience, this place is as close to “home cooking” as one gets in the UK. Servers wear jeans and tees with “Country Boy” and “Country Girl” scrolled across their backs in blue and pink respectively. To my surprise the Kensington hole in the wall was buzzing on Sunday night – families, couples, friends catching up on the weekend’s events: you name ‘em they were there – not an empty table in the place. I knew it would be a great experience the minute I walked in as the maître dee wore a pink polo (collar popped) and charmed both my mom and I with sparkling conversation and welcome menu recs. What else could I order but the Sunday roast with Yorkshire pudding? Top it off with the short-season rhubarb crumble and this anglophile may as well have been in heaven.
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