if there is one good thing to be said about marital crises (and there was a mammoth marital crisis going on this week, believe me, though you won't be getting any details) it's that they present the perfect opportunity to pick yourself up, phone your best friends and get yourself out of the house come rain, snow or sunshine. And so come Saturday, after a few days of self-pity, it was out of the flat and off to do what it's best to do when things get tough: lunch with the girls - in this case, ex-Flatmate and Cousin. We'd planned a cheap but good trattoria in Bloomsbury, but it all changed mid-morning when the most persistent of us managed to get a table at Scotts in Mayfair, which is not something that happens too often. Could this be the credit crunch in operation?
There are several good things to say about eating at Scotts, an institution that was revamped a few years back by the owners of other top London eateries like The Ivy and Le Caprice: First is of course the food - the finest seafood in London hands down (we had some fabulously meaty Duchy of Cornwall oysters - which I could eat oceans full of - and baked cod, which was just perfection). Then of course there's the setting, which is cool and elegant without being gimmicky and ostentatious. I have a particular dislike for restaurants that try too hard, and am always wary of those de jour because of that. Scotts, like all the other restaurants belonging to the group, is beyond all that. It's a bit like Daniel Craig playing James Bond - classic, elegant and sexy but in a subtle way. And it's cool enough to have a shrimp burger on the menu - which I will definitely have next time I go there.
And then there's the location. Just two blocks down from the nightmare that is Oxford Street, particularly on a Saturday, Scotts is situated on Mount Street, a smart little thoroughfare that goes off Park Lane into the heart of Mayfair, by far the city's smartest quarter. It's only two blocks long - but in those two blocks there is some prime real estate. American designer Marc Jacobs was quick to spot its allure and opened his first London boutique there. Earlier this year, Balenciaga opened a couple of doors down.
So after a few (well, OK, three - or maybe four, I honestly cannot remember) bottles of Gavi, and all that scrumptious food, what else to do than go shopping? Thankfully - and sensibly - I left my credit cards at home and only had access to my current account. Otherwise my little niece would have been the proud owner of a pair of Jacobs' mouse shoes - a snip at £120! (Accessorize do a good copy, at less than a tenth of the price!).
As it was, I arrived home empty-handed. But that wasn't until after we'd drank another two bottles at the refurbished Boheme Kitchen Bar in Soho. I'll admit, it didn't do the marital crisis much good ‒ in fact it was then that it almost spiralled out of control, but it was the most fun Saturday I'd had in ages, and even now that the crisis is over, I've been out every evening since.
There are several good things to say about eating at Scotts, an institution that was revamped a few years back by the owners of other top London eateries like The Ivy and Le Caprice: First is of course the food - the finest seafood in London hands down (we had some fabulously meaty Duchy of Cornwall oysters - which I could eat oceans full of - and baked cod, which was just perfection). Then of course there's the setting, which is cool and elegant without being gimmicky and ostentatious. I have a particular dislike for restaurants that try too hard, and am always wary of those de jour because of that. Scotts, like all the other restaurants belonging to the group, is beyond all that. It's a bit like Daniel Craig playing James Bond - classic, elegant and sexy but in a subtle way. And it's cool enough to have a shrimp burger on the menu - which I will definitely have next time I go there.
And then there's the location. Just two blocks down from the nightmare that is Oxford Street, particularly on a Saturday, Scotts is situated on Mount Street, a smart little thoroughfare that goes off Park Lane into the heart of Mayfair, by far the city's smartest quarter. It's only two blocks long - but in those two blocks there is some prime real estate. American designer Marc Jacobs was quick to spot its allure and opened his first London boutique there. Earlier this year, Balenciaga opened a couple of doors down.
So after a few (well, OK, three - or maybe four, I honestly cannot remember) bottles of Gavi, and all that scrumptious food, what else to do than go shopping? Thankfully - and sensibly - I left my credit cards at home and only had access to my current account. Otherwise my little niece would have been the proud owner of a pair of Jacobs' mouse shoes - a snip at £120! (Accessorize do a good copy, at less than a tenth of the price!).
As it was, I arrived home empty-handed. But that wasn't until after we'd drank another two bottles at the refurbished Boheme Kitchen Bar in Soho. I'll admit, it didn't do the marital crisis much good ‒ in fact it was then that it almost spiralled out of control, but it was the most fun Saturday I'd had in ages, and even now that the crisis is over, I've been out every evening since.