Photos, Reviews, Social Commentary, Travel

‘I Like Big Boats… And I Cannot Lie’

‘I like Big Boats And I cannot Lie, You Other Sisters Can’t Deny…I’m hooked and I can’t stop staring… But Boats make me so Happy, So Ladies (yeah!), Ladies (yeah!), Do you love your Boats? Hell yeah!’

– adapted from ‘Baby got Back’ by Sir Mix a Lot, 1992

Boats vs. Cars

Boats win hands down. When I hop on a privately owned boat of any size (over 10meters long that is), I get a certain frisson that gets me going, which I know is inexcusable and I should have higher morals, how superficial, but I just can’t help it. I just love boats. I don’t give a tits ass about cars. Cars to me are just dull and predictable; the Porsche Boxter is the poor man’s Porsche that an Associate at a big bank has finally been able to afford to show off his peers from B-school, the Ferrari is the ‘mid-life-crisis’ car that divorced men rush out to buy to snap up a younger version of their ex-wives, and let’s not talk about the branded keychain men love to leave around the restaurant dinner table to show off their bling. I once knew an Italian wannabe playboy who cruised down Fulham Road in his Porsche/Ferrari/Aston Martin to pick up chicks and it apparently worked! When these men (kids) get married and have children, they become the 4×4 crowd, the Range Rover vs. the BMW X5. (And you already know how I feel about private jets: http://www.nottinghillyummymummy.com/2014/05/15/quote-of-the-day-i-promise-you-will-never-have-to-turn-right-on-an-airplane). Just as men have their toys or gadgets, boats are my ‘thing.’ I can stare at them all day. Not only can they take you from A to B like a car or plane, you can party on them, sleep on them, drink cocktails on them while watching the sun set over Formentera with some vodka infused watermelons, cruise from Capri to Ischia overnight on them and do whatever else your imagination takes you.

Sunseeker Superhawk 48

My love of boats started years ago, when as a 20 year old party girl I made friends with an Italian playboy who happened to be friends with a very wealthy 26 year old New Yorker, owner of a Sunseeker Superhawk (this owner of the Sunseeker by the way, drove us to his boat in a Porsche 911). We spent the summers on his boat, the wealthy owner made cooler by the Italian playboy, and I was the token, cool, fun and clever girl that had an open invitation, while they invited different ‘potentials’ each weekend, one which inspired my favourite line in history: ‘You are like a lobster, not a lot of meat, but very expensive.’ Thus started my love affair with boats. There is nothing like the feeling I get when I am on the water, being rocked by mother nature, inducing a release of endorphins that makes me so deliriously happy, surrounded by water and away from all our ‘problems’ for the day, or for a week. It reminds me that we are just small fish in a huge ocean. Mix that with a Mojito cocktail or Glass of Domaine Ott Rose, and a Cafe Del Mar CD, and there is not much more that makes me so happy.

The Size of a Boat Matters: Bigger is not always Better

There is a good size to a boat, like Goldilocks’ bed, not too big, not too small. My ideal is between 10m and 40m, but it also depends on the boat. Under 10m is acceptable for a lake boat or for a Riva, Aquarama or a Ligurian day boat. Over 50m and they become like cruise-liners, which is not my thing, I’ll leave the cruises to the over 60s and to those Orange EasyCruisers. I want to be able to feel the water rocking the boat underneath me, and not feel like a floating hotel. A good boat should have plenty of space for sunbathing, drinking and eating. Then there are day boats and overnight boats to choose from. My favourite day boat is the Sunseeker Superhawk 48, as I have already mentioned before. Overnight boats need to be a certain length, so that I don’t turn green and start wretching – really not an attractive look – and to have enough space for a proper cabin and proper toilets that don’t start smelling of piss after 3 days at sea.

There is the real urban tale of the Legal Head of a major American Private Equity Firm who proudly rents a 33m sailing boat in the Caribbean for him and his family. He is feeling rather pleased with himself that he has one of the biggest boats in the bay and his teenage sons are well impressed. Until, that is, the Billionaire founder of his Private Equity Firm accosts him with his personal 62m super yacht, with helicopter and sailboat on the main deck, and his teenagers desert him in a flash for the jet skis on the super yacht.

Invictus and Lady Joy

Sailboats vs. Superyachts

The question of Sailboat vs. Motor yachts is rather self explanatory. Sailboats are unquestionably the more beautiful and classy boat, while the Superyachts are the cool boats to have, to really show off in the land of the SuperRich. Some would say a penis extension. But whatever. They are just so cool. The FT recently covered boats as the ultimate SuperRich playthings. First comes the house, then comes the car, then the plane and finally the Superyacht. So, are you cool or are you classy?

Boyfriends and Boats

All of my serious boyfriends understood very quickly that I loved boats and used this to their advantage. It is my weak spot! Everyone has one, don’t they? My first serious boyfriend took me on a sailing trip from St. Martin to St. Barth’s on our third date, good effort I thought, but after three days I couldn’t wait to check-into a hotel. My second serious boyfriend took me on a friend’s Sunseeker Superhawk every summer to go from Ibiza to Formentera for the day, and managed to get me on an America’s Cup Winner Oyster during Les Voiles de St. Tropez. Not Bad. My third serious boyfriend decided to propose to me on a boat, unfortunately he didn’t receive the memo, it wasn’t on a Sunseeker or an Oyster Sailboat as I was hoping for, but a small, tin boat on a freezing cold, rainy lake. Needless to say, I still said ‘yes’. So, after all, it’s not the size of the boat that really matters.

A ‘pizza’ boat.

NHYM

http://www.nottinghillyummymummy.com

Twitter: @NHyummymummy

In the Press, Reviews

Review of Tate Modern’s Matisse Cut-Outs: The Cut-Outs vs Butt-Outs

Tate Modern until Sept 7th

http://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-modern/exhibition/henri-matisse-cut-outs

*****5 Stars

Cut-Outs vs. Butt-outs: Matisse vs. Kimye

Two ‘once-in-lifetime’ events have recently just occurred: April 2014 saw Matisse’s Cutouts opening at the Tate Modern, a historical and unmissable event bringing together all of Matisse’s most important cutout works, and May 2014 saw the most ridiculously over the top wedding of all time, golden wedding toilet and all; Kim Kardashian’s wedding to Kanye West. Kimye’s wedding kiss became the most ‘liked’ picture on Instagram. But the similarities between the two events end at voluptuous, naked women with large bosoms and bottoms.

The 21st century is laden with reality stars taking over the world and covered on every magazine, newspaper and social media cover. I despair to think that my children are growing up in a world with role models such as Kimye. Yes, she may be (artificially) beautiful and I am sure she is very ‘nice’, (her and her artistically enhanced derriere), but what is she really teaching our children? That constant bitching, plastic surgery, a world of materialism and superficialism, multiple weddings, and excessively spending ridiculous amounts on the aforementioned multiple weddings is an entirely normal proposition? Luckily, the Matisse exhibit at Tate Modern keeps my hopes up that we still have role models everywhere for our children, if we just open our eyes beyond the Kimye Press.

(The Mermaid and the Parakeet)

Going to this Matisse exhibit, (Matisse happens to be one of my favourite artists), was truly an unmissable event for me. The juxtaposition of Kimye’s vacuous and superficial reality life splashed all over the tabloids next to Matisse’s Cutouts and his life as an artist in the Daily Mail is unreal. How far we have come in 60 years from his death in 1954 to 2014. I will try not to go on like many Art Critics, writing verbose, possibly pretentious articles, that frighten most normal people with their diarrhea of adjectives, to describe what I saw (you can read all these articles online at the Telegraph, Guardian, and Times) but I hope to give you a ‘simple’ take on his world, his art, and his ‘genius’ (unlike the ‘genius’ called by Kim’s mother describing Jaden Smith in his white Batman suit).

(Large Decoration and Masks)

Matisse didn’t enter the art world because of pushy parents. His father wanted him to study law, but Matisse was introduced to art by his mother after a bout of appendicitis. He was ‘hooked,’ as one would say, and would become one of the most influential modern artists, next to Picasso. Matisse started his Cutouts late in his life as an artist, in his 70s, after a close encounter with death and major surgery, in what he calls his ‘seconde vie’. Despite his ill health, for Matisse this was his second chance at life, which gave him the freedom, ‘liberte,’ to truly express himself. Initially, the critics called his work ‘child-like,’ but I think he was trying to teach us to look at the world as if we were looking at it for the first time, like a child, to see beauty in the simple things. He used simple methods of paper, cutting and painting to cut out flowers, fruit, and seaweed. Simple, beautiful, objects we often overlook every day because of the busyness of our lives. He was then able to use the inspiration of a lifetime and translate it into artworks to create some of the most alive, dynamic and beautiful pieces of Modern Art.

(The Sheath)

He is known as the best colourist in the 20th Century and his vibrant colours of Blues, Yellows, Green, Yellow and Purple are reminiscent of a child’s painting palette. He manages to create movement through his cut paper and uses his paper cutouts, pasted on top of background paper, to create texture and contrasts of colours. Other themes of his Cutouts are Dancing, Jazz, Ballet, and the Underwater World of Tahiti, all subjects close to his heart and mine. Years before, Matisse had made a trip to Tahiti when he felt a lack of inspiration and there he spent days snorkelling and basking in the sun, and later used fruits, seaweed and palms from that trip to create ‘Oceania the Sea’, and ‘Oceania the Sky’. His ‘seaweed’ and ‘corals’ that he uses over and over in his cutouts, which you can see in ‘The Sheath,’ and ‘Decoration and Mask,’ show us where he was most at peace and happy; underwater surrounded by bright, vibrant light and colours not visible in the overwater world. When he was bed and wheelchair ridden, he was able to re-create scenes which he was now no longer able to enjoy, like the underwater sea, and also create a garden in his studio by pinning cutouts onto his walls.

(Icarus)

What Matisse achieved in doing, despite his infirmity, his age, and his critics, was to create a new form of art which was alive, vibrant, and in his mind, full of clarity. While he was unable to move freely, he was still able to bring gardens and the seashore right to his bedroom. He was able to make dancers dance for him, to tell tales of Icarus and 1001 nights through his art and to recreate himself as an artist. For him, this was a rebirth, a second chance to see life differently and wanting to live it fully against all odds. This is what he can teach and inspire my children. Unlike a Kardashian, whose lustre will fade as her wrinkles multiply, her bum sags with age, and her money won’t save her from being replaced by the next prettier, younger thing.

(Family sitting below the Blue Nude on the Right, cutting out and reproducing Matisse’s works of art).

Five Matisse Cutouts you should know about (or at least appear to know about at a dinner party):

1. Blue Nudes Series: There are four of them and are his most popular and recognisable pieces aside from the Dancers painting.

2. Icarus

3. The Snail: Matisse’s slight exploration into abstract art, until he realised he should leave it to Picasso.

4. The Parakeet and The Mermaid

5. Large Decoration and Mask

Reviews

Review of Polpo Restaurant, Notting Hill

Polpo Notting Hill

126-128 Notting Hill Gate London W11 3QG

02072293283

http://www.polpo.co.uk

Overall: 3.75 stars

Food: 3.5 stars

Service: 3.5 stars / raised to 4 stars for having Russell Norman on the floor

Design: 4 stars

Value: 4 stars because their Pizettes were only at £5 and their plates are very filling

Having read some of the gushing praise of Russell Norman’s, aka the ‘King of Small Plates,’ many restaurants (Spuntino, Polpo Soho, Polpetto, Mishkin’s, and Polpo Covent Garden), and how people actually wait in line for an hour and half for a seat, I was thrilled to hear that one was opening up in Notting Hill. Not one for waiting in line for a restaurant (I’ve left ‘waiting in line’ behind a red velvet rope in my 20s, let alone any restaurant line in Soho), there was no way I was ever going to shlep all the way to Soho, unsure of whether I would have to wait 30 or 80 minutes for a table. Polpo Notting Hill would be the perfect way to try one of this famous restaurateur’s restaurants, without ever having to leave my 10-minute radius. Not quite ready to face the possibility of waiting in line, I took the safe road and booked a lunch reservation (They actually don’t ever close after lunch, which must be great for business).

The Polpo Restaurant concept is about being a Venetian Bacaro serving small Italian plates (the Italian version of a tapas bar). Having been to a true Bacaro in Venice during my ‘Gap/Backpacking year’, which made me think of a dark, smokey restaurant full of students and young trendy things, smoking cigarettes, drinking vino and nibbling on bits (not only the food), while discussing the superiority of Italian men (I was a twenty-something woman after all), I had high hopes and expectations for this establishment.

The original Polpo was created during the recession, and Russell Norman was able to make it a success by making it a relatively cheap, relaxed and cool dining scene. Russell’s background is as a restaurant manager and operations director at Caprice Holdings. He knows a thing or two about running a restaurant and what attracts people to a restaurant. It is not always clearly about the food alone. In the recession, he saw that all the buzzy, cool places were the ones that were packed. So he interior designed all of his restaurants (and is known for carefully choosing all the details from the toilet sinks and lighting himself), to attract the trendy and cool crowd. His staff are hired for their attitude and for being the creative types, rather than necessarily their restaurant credentials, which adds to the cool factor of the restaurant. When I saw Russell Norman working the tables as I came in, being a true ‘Restaurant Man,’ listening to what his clients and staff have to say, seeing with his eyes how the restaurant was being run, I wanted to love it.

When I entered Polpo, what struck me immediately was a slightly damp smell. Perhaps to recreate the summer’s humidity in Venice or perhaps why it shut down for one day (a flood maybe?), 4 days after opening. But then I saw the bar, which immediately made me forget my initial impression. The Bar is Beautiful. I do love a nice bar, and this one easily took me back to my Italian Backpacking days. I was then seated with a perfect view of the restaurant, (which is one of the reasons I always come early to choose my spot before my lunch date arrives). The clientele here is rather eclectic as the restaurant is; beautiful posh British Blondes two tables on my left, two American NHYMs two tables on my right, a family of 4 across from me, older men having lunch, young trendsetters at the bar and two lovely Notting Hill Grannies, one Japanese and one American, next to me. This is what I love about London; all ages, all nationalities and all social classes mixing easily together in an Italian Wine Bar. I can imagine it being great at night with a buzzy atmosphere with cocktails flowing, a few good friends, and lots of laughs.

We ordered small plates on the recommendation of the waitress; a plate of ciceti, the garlic and clam pizzette, classic beef and pork meatballs, lamb caponata, the polpo of course, and the asparagus and broad bean salad. The food was good, but unfortunately not quite as good as I was hoping. There was a slight lack of flavour to the dishes, perhaps a slight banality to them. The arancini and the pizettes were rather good, I liked the creativity of eating a spicy clams, capers and garlic pizzette. The Polpo fell a bit short of my expectations, instead a crispy, browned Italian octopus the way I like them, it felt as if this poor polpo had drifted for days in the Med and somehow landed on British territory, and had become a bit soggy from all the British rain. The lamb and meatballs were just average, and knowing that this restaurant is coming from one of the biggest restaurant names in London at the moment, I was, I admit a tad disappointed.

Perhaps I am expecting too much from a Bacaro, perhaps my expecations were too high and I am a demanding NHYM that should be kept away from Notting Hill Gate. Perhaps these are teething issues which he will iron out over the next few weeks, so I will come back for another go in two weeks, this time at night to capture the buzz. But then again, perhaps this is what Russell is trying to do; cheap and cheerful dishes in a great atmosphere. And maybe, this restaurant was not conceived with me in mind. When I read reviews later on Tripadvisor, I realised that this place is not for earth-shattering, tantalising food, this place is for friends to meet, drink and have a good time in a greatly designed restaurant with a good atmosphere. After all, this is all the Italian students could afford on a budget, so in this respect, Russell is succeeding after all.

NHYM

http://www.nottinghillyummymummy.com

twitter: @NHyummymummy

p.s. For those also adverse to waiting in line for a dinner table, there are subtle ways of getting a dinner reservation but what’s the fun in telling you how? I will leave it to you to figure it out on your own…

In the Press, Photos, Reviews, Social Commentary

How I went from Club-Hopping to Flower-Picking: The RHS Chelsea Flower Show 2014

From Louboutins to Lilies, Blahniks to Begonias, and Jimmys to Jasmine…

When I first arrived in London 15 years ago as a young, arrogant, twenty-something, ignorant Chelsea twat, I had heard about the Royal Chelsea Flower Show in a magazine and really wondered what all the fuss was about and what was up with the English’s obsession with gardening. I remember ‘attending’ a dinner party in Hampstead with an ‘older’ boyfriend whose friends were all in their late 30s. One couple described their perfect Saturday morning, which involved gardening in something called an ‘allotment’ and I had thought to myself, how dull and depressing, please don’t ever let me become those people. At that time, I was more interested in dancing on tables at Boujis/China White/Cuckoo Club than to contemplate the virtues of sunlight and flowers on one’s wellbeing. Night-time ‘sprinkling’ to me was a Champagne Sprinkling contest between a French (Dom Perignon) and Italian (Cristal) table at Cuckoo rather than the night-timing of a water sprinkler. Little did I know that flowers really are a key to happiness, not clubbing.

Fast-forward 15 years of living in England, one husband, two children, and three gardens later (and years wiser), I am converted. I can easily go to bed at 9pm, enjoy watching Box Sets on Saturday night, and have become a Flower-Lover and Garden Designer (ie. I tell the Gardener what to do). My vocabulary has gone from Passion Fruit, Watermelon and Lychee Martinis to Agapanthus, Amaryllis, Gladioli, Snapdragons and Foxgloves. My Louboutins have been retired to their cardboard box and Lilies have taken their place in a window box.

And I’ve finally figured out that flowers actually do make me happier. There have been several studies done to prove that flowers have a positive emotional impact on us (http://www.epjournal.net/wp-content/uploads/ep03104132.pdf), but also makes us healthier (http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/a-healthy-new-years-resolution-how-flowers-help-with-health-happiness-the-gardenist-198835).

Gucci has followed my lead this year, and has created its own garden in the RHS Chelsea Flower Show, so off I went to the World’s Most Famous Flower Show, to find out what all the fuss is about. Once there, I finally realised that this so much more than just a flower show, this is an exhibition of art, design and creativity through the medium of flowers which will astound you just as a Zaha Hadid’s architectural sculpture will.

My favourites this year are :

The Telegraph Garden, Gold Medal, which unfortunately lost out to the Laurent Perrier Garden for Best in Show.

The Laurent Perrier Garden, Gold Medal and Best in Show Winner.

Kazuyuki Ishihara’s Artisan Garden, Gold Medal and Best Artisan Garden. He is just brilliant year after year.

Birmingham City Council’s Garden, Gold Medal and winner of the President’s Award, blends sculptures, flowers, gardening techniques and water features into one of the most stunning and remarkable gardens this year. The most awe-inspiring garden of them all.

The Thai-inspired Bunny made of Orchids.

The RHS Chelsea Winner of Plant of the Year: Hydrangea Macrolphylia

And all the other wonderful grown flowers in the Main Pavillion; hanging amaryllis, hyacinths, hydrangeas, sunflowers, hanging bulbs, bougainvilleas, roses, foxgloves, and more.

The Chelsea Flower Show is a reminder than in the midst of our urban jungles, we still have an apprecation for art and beauty in nature, and that despite our lifestyles, all we really crave is an allotment on Saturday to attend to our hydrangeas, jasmines, fuschias, and roses to share with our kids. And all that we really want to be happy are some flowers from our boyfriends/husbands/partners once in a while.

NHYM

http://www.nottinghillyummymummy.com

@NHyummymummy

Reviews

Review of The New Angel Restaurant, Notting Hill

Where… ‘The Chef is as interesting as the Food’

The New Angel Restaurant, 39 Chepstow Place Notting Hill London W2 4TS

0207 221 7620

http://www.thenewangel-nh.co.uk

Food: 4 stars

Atmosphere: 4 stars

Service: 4.5 stars

Design: 4 stars

Value for money: 3.5 stars (for the lunch menus)

Overall: 4 stars

Notting Hill, The Foodie

Notting Hill is becoming a serious foodie destination with the 2* Michelin restaurant The Ledbury making it to the number 10 spot on the 50 Best Restaurants in the World List (http://www.theworlds50best.com/list/1-50-winners/the-ledbury). Not only that but Marianne’s, the runner up Masterchef Marianne Lumb’s new restaurant made it to the Number 1 spot as London’s Best Restaurant on Tripadvisor at one point in a few months (now in 9th spot: http://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Restaurants-g186338-London_England.html), which I will be reviewing next month. And finally, Russell Norman, the ‘king of small plates’ is opening a Polpo on Notting Hill Gate any time now. The New Angel, which has quietly come on the scene a few weeks ago without our even knowing, is another serious contender. I am not a huge fan of the name (makes me think of a born-again-evangelical-preacher. The Chepstow Place or The Burton would have done just fine), and it is in a converted Victorian pub below the well-loved Assaggi, which has changed hands every few years, but coming from the infamous and very controversial celebrity chef John Burton Race (JBR), I was ready for some surprises.

The Chef: John Burton Race

(JBR, his ex-mistress-now-wife, and Donna Air at The New Angel’s Opening Party)

I could write a whole article on JBR’s scandals, divorces, double-life-love-child-progeny, bankruptcy, resisting arrests and huge rows with fellow contestants on ‘Celebrity Get Me Out of Here,’ but this a restaurant review not a gossip column. It’s surprising his Memoirs haven’t been written or an HBO Biopic hasn’t been made of him yet. JBR has quite a professional and personal history behind him; a two time Michelin 2* Chef (L’Ortolan and The Landmark Hotel, via training at Le Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons), he became a TV personality in the reality shows ‘French Leave,’ ‘Return of The Chef’,’ and even ‘Celebrity Get Me Out Here’ amongst others (there has to be some attention-seeking and egotism for him to agree to do the latter show). He has also been slandered in the press as a scandalous ‘love-rat’ when he was found cheating on his wife with his mistress of 4 years and having a 2 year old child with her. His then wife, Kim, famously closed down the original ‘The New Angel’ restaurant while JBR was out cooking up tarantulas in the jungle. He only learned about this as he came out of his Kangaroo-escapade when he was evicted and the paps accosted him for a comment. It is difficult not to mention all of the above, but we are here for the food, I repeat. (http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2008/apr/27/recipes.foodanddrink).

(Delicious Steak Tartare and divine Horseradish Sorbet – a must try)

The Restaurant

We arrived on Saturday evening at 8pm to find the restaurant pleasantly busy but nowhere near full. The staff, the Italian Maitre d’, the French waiter and Csaba, the assistant restaurant manager, were all attentive and smiling, enthusiastic to work for one of the Greats. The restaurant’s decor is warm with brown colours, gold leaf wallpaper and the owl sculptures in the back room are a hit with the girls. The music was an elevator jazz music until it stopped abruptly, a very minor negative of the evening. In the back wall there is a very small garden which is lit up at night and softens the atmosphere. The menu has familiar haute cuisine ingredients; fillets of John Dory, Scottish salmon, roasted rack of Devonshire lamb, quail’s eggs, and wasn’t trying too hard to be unique (unlike Heston and Nuno’s menus). Two courses for £44 and three courses for £54 at dinner , and with a £20-something lunch menu (I think I must have been dreaming), it is actually rather good value-for-money.

The Food

Now for the food. It is very easy to get distracted by JBR’s celebrity and notoriety that I wondered whether his culinary skills would be as sharp as his tongue. I chose the hand dived scallops with curried cauliflower and onion Bhaji as a starter and the poached line caught seabass with an oyster beignet in a Champagne and caviar sauce as a main (this dish was conceived with bedding a woman in mind; Champagne, oysters, and caviar? The ultimate aphrodisiac dish) , which were both very good although I didn’t love the baby fennels. My sister, whose birthday we were celebrating, and her husband had the foie gras starter (tasted right out of South West France), which was a perfectly chosen and terrined foie gras. Mr. C had the Steak Tartare started with Horseradish sorbet- Yum! My favourite starter of the night, I want to go back for another bite. He then had the Dutch Veal with Cepes and Truffle Tortellini as a main, which was my favourite main of the night. The strawberry millefeuille gariguette and the raspberry soufflé and white chocolate side were indulgent and the after-dessert petits fours of salted caramel truffles and white chocolate macaroons were just divine. All I can say is that all the dishes were perfectly executed, a pleasure to look at, and the tastes were very well balanced, not too overbearing, not too limp, showing a mastery that only comes from over 30 years of experience.

The Verdict

This is modern European cuisine with French influence at its best, achieving what JBR sets out to do; ‘conjuring creative yet simple dishes from seasonal ingredients.’ It is meant to be a neighbourhood restaurant but has world class cooking and food, so this neighbourhood feel will unfortunately surely disappear in time. The restaurant feels like the Ledbury before it became famous when a young 28 year old Brett Graham set out to take over the culinary world, fresh, enthusiastic, and powerful, except that this a veteran chef with a colourful past of adultery, reality TV and a foul mouth who continues to prove himself in a class of his own. This is a Michelin starred restaurant in the making, so I suggest that you make a reservation now before it becomes another exclusive two-month-wait-list restaurant like The Ledbury and Marianne’s.

Top 10 New Restaurants in 2014 The Telegraph: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/shopping-and-consumer-news/11270666/The-10-best-new-restaurants-in-London.html?frame=3127908

Top 100 Best Restaurants in the UK Opentable: www.opentable.co.uk/m/best-restaurants-in-united-kingdom/

NHYM

http://www.nottinghillyummymummy.com @NHyummymummy

In the Press, Reviews, Social Commentary

Relax…Take it easy…

Just an FYI – my blog is tongue-in-cheek for the most part. So please relax. And yes, there are plenty of great nannies, just as there great families and vice versa. One is allowed to have their own experiences… and please stop trolling.

In the Press, Photos, Reviews

Sunny May Bank Holiday, Chiltern Firehouse’s courtyard finally opens!

Nothing beats a Sunday Brunch ‘En Famille’ in the sun

Steak Tartare is a pleasure to look at… but unfortunately it’s like an Eastern European model, too skinny and not enough spice, looks win over substance this time….

They even provided toys for M! And a highchair for Baby X

The Kissing Doggies were as much a hit as the Strawberry Sundae…!

All in all, 5 stars for the sunshine, 5 stars for the kissing dogs and strawberry sundae, food and service still to be rated as they are battling teething problems, admitted by the waiter, ‘We opened this Saturday, so that’s why we are running around like head-less chickens. It is like opening a second, separate restaurant’. Which is why they ran out of cutlery and when I asked for a Dashamour I was brought a jalapeño bitter instead of my green juice. (They changed the name without telling me, and the green juice is now called a Green Goddess).

Photos, Reviews, Social Commentary, Travel

Shoreditch House, Hotel and Restaurant

Where…‘Big Brother is watching you and guests should refrain from wearing corporate attire’

Shoreditch House, Hotel and Restaurant

Ebor St, London E1 6AW

+(44) 02077385040

https://www.shoreditchhouse.com/

Overall: 4.5 stars

Hotel:

Hotel Service: 5 stars

Amenities: 5 stars (Highlights include the Cowshed Spa & Rooftop Pool)

Rooms: 4 stars

Value for money: 4.5 stars

1 small room per night £265.00

Restaurant:

Food 4 stars

Service: 4 stars

Atmosphere: 4.5 stars depending on who you sit next to

Value for money: 4 stars

London Staycationing

‘You’re going far.’ Our Eurocrat single Hedge Fund Founder Friend sarcastically commented when we told him we were staycaying in East London for our 6th anniversary. He was clearly childless. It had been 8 months since the birth of Baby X and I was dying for some time away with Mr. C. Unfortunately, there are granny-nanny wars going on at the moment in Casa NHYM and we are unable to leave Nanny Y with our two yummy daughters for a whole week, so we have opted for an overnight London ‘staycation.’ We had previously stay-cay’d at the Berkeley Hotel after M’s birth, but it was such a baby-blur that I don’t even remember going. After looking down a list of 5 star hotels and feeling rather underwhelmed, I had the brilliant idea of trying out the Shoreditch House Hotel, which is half the price of any 5 star hotel in London, and sounded perfect for our needs.

‘No Suits’

I received multiple confirmation emails for my room reservation, including the House Rules, which ended with this statement: ‘Finally, we foster a non-corporate atmosphere. To preserve this casual environment, hotel residents should refrain from wearing corporate attire and are also responsible for ensuring their guests abide by this rule.’ I had applied to be a Soho House member on various occasions, but like the British driving test, I failed at each and every attempt. But I am a writer! I dejectedly wanted to defend myself. Perhaps they had Big Brother cameras everywhere and knew that I was a NHYM and my husband was a ‘Suit’, and that I come from a long line of ‘Suits’ (The New York Soho House famously dis-membered 1,500 suits after its first year, which caused outrage in the Wall Street community).

Therefore, when I entered the lobby of Shoreditch House, I was intimidated but prepared for the looming ‘No Suits’ sign at the ‘lobby,’ slightly afraid that Big Brother knew that Mr. C would be coming straight from work in his ‘Suit’. Welcome to the Big Brother East London House. There are two separate receptions, one for the Members Club and one for the hotel as well as two separate elevators. I was welcomed by a super cool chick at the hotel reception, who could have been my new BFF if she’d let me, and was absolutely lovely. She showed me to my room and immediately sent up a bottle of Prosecco when I mentioned that it was our anniversary (Ok, so Prosecco’s not really my drink, but I can’t complain when it’s free).

The Room: S*x and the East End City

The room itself, although called a small room, didn’t feel too small unlike some city hotel rooms (ie. Tribeca Grand), and had a warm, ‘lived in country,’ Hamptons-white-shutters feel to it, not too fussy with clean, white lines. I was particularly impressed with the bed and thread count (nothing worse than going to a hotel with a hard bed and the linens giving you a midnight body scrub). I also liked the old school black telephone and the bathroom products, all from Cowshed Spa, which she told me to ‘use as much as you can while you’re here, but you’ll have to pay for them if you take them home, so lather up!’ Then, I saw in the multitudes of cotton buds, combs, toothbrushes and earplugs, a neat packet called ‘Condoms.’ It was as if someone was reading my mind and knew why I was here. How did they know that all I really needed was a room without the threat of a nuclear baby breakdown, a phone that probably didn’t work, a good bed, and some extra protection for some out-of-the-West-End-World s*x to get my mojo back? Big Brother was really watching.

The 5^th floor Bar and House Kitchen: A lesson in East End Hipster Style

When Mr. C. got dressed for dinner with a white collared shirt and blue blazer, I hissed at him ‘You can’t wear that! They’ll kick us out!’ ‘What are you talking about? I am sure everyone will be in the Mayfair uniform here’. He responded. ‘Trust me, put on that Zadig & Voltaire skull & bones sweater and those ripped jeans and you’ll be fine.’ As we arrived in the 5^th floor Bar, I was clearly right. They forgot to put in the reservations memo that all men should be wearing the hipster uniform: cropped hair with long beards, lumberjack shirts, skinnies, and black combat boots. I kicked myself thinking that I could have flown Mr. C over to Brooklyn for a quick beard-implant-make-over to play the part.

The 5th floor is huge and we went for a walk-around looking for a table to sit, first passing the bar area, then the ping pong tables (‘When did ping pong get trendy ?’ I asked Mr. C. ‘It’s been trendy for the past 5 years!’ I am feeling un-cooler by the minute), the delicious looking display of Mediterranean inspired food looked divine and the back lounge area was already all filled with more hipsters. We finally found a table in the bar area and were greeted by a waiter: ‘Do you have your membership card?’ he immediately asked Mr. C, who handed him our temporary card from the hotel and I turned to him ‘See, they know we don’t belong here!’ I am feeling overdressed with my IRO jacket and wearing Mayfair earrings that I am about to take off, when Mr.C tells me to get a grip, so I silently gulp my Green Machine instead, which is excellent (Kiwi, Banana, Mint and Spirulina), fascinated by the Hipster Scene.

The 6^th floor Roof Terrace Restaurant: Who needs Christian Grey when you’ve got Daario Naharis?

I can finally breathe better on the 6^th floor, which is more my style. We are seated in close quarters between two couples on either side. On my right is a mixed Indian/British couple in their late 40s, the man looks like a skinny version of Anish Kapoor (Has he been on a 5:2 diet? I wonder), the woman is British and both are lovely and smile to us as we arrive. On my left are two men who look like they are on their first date, slightly nervous and trying to impress the other. One is a good-looking, East End kind-of-guy, and across from him is a slightly uptight, trying-to-be-cool, American Jew. It was an odd combination, I thought to myself, until I realise who the street guy was – I kick Mr. C and un-subtely point at him. Mr. C is clueless when it comes to celeb spotting and this one is a hard one so I am very proud of myself. It’s Daario Naharis from Game of Thrones! (Not the current one played by Michel Huisman, but the original who I later find out is called Ed Skrein IRL. I only recognised him because we just finished Season 3 in preparation for the upcoming Season 4 on Sky). Daario aka Ed Skrein is steaming sexy in Game of Thrones with his long hair, bulging muscles and overbearing confidence and charisma, you could just imagine him throwing you over his shoulder and bringing you back to his lair before you could even say ‘Oh, Daarioooo!’ Here at Shoreditch, he fits the part with short, cropped hair, in East End Hipster Style, so it is his teeth I recognise. (I have a thing with teeth and can recognise people by their teeth alone. I know, weird but wonderful).

(courtesy of the internet)

As I am eating my delicious quinoa and sweet potato salad starter, I realise that this is going to be a dinner where Mr. C and I might as well not talk to each other because the conversation next door is so much more interesting than ours could ever be. This is man-to-man territory and an insight into what men really say to each other over dinner. Ed and his friend, whom we shall call L.A. (as he turns out to be his LA agent/lawyer, not sure which), start their conversation very sweetly by talking kids and wives and sharing photos of their 3 year old. I want to join the conversation and show pictures of M too and how cute she is but luckily stop myself. Then comes their interests; travel (L.A. recommends Brazil ‘the women are incredible there, you’ve got to go),’ which seamlessly drifts to football and the World Cup when Ed Skrein mentions his football team, Liverpool. ‘Is that Liverpool here in London or the Beatles Liverpool? Ed politely replies ‘Liverpool as in the Beatles Liverpool.’ ‘Well I know there is a Liverpool Street here and all’ L.A. naively and somewhat ignorantly comments. They talk about their similarities and their differences, where they grew up, both wanting to be musicians, Ed in North London, L.A. in South Florida among the retirement community. L.A. talked about desperately wanted to be a musician but his Jewish parents wouldn’t allow it, so he went to law school instead, like a good Jewish boy, before heading out West.

The talk from there went on to Ed’s future career and his current films. L.A. told Ed to prepare himself because his life was going to change drastically and that he was going to be a huge star. This was probably the script he spat out to every new, young, rising star (He mentioned how crazy Josh was at the Cannes Film Festival, I assumed he was talking about Josh Hartnett, as it sounds like L.A. specialises in hearthrobs). L.A. told Ed that his role was to build his brand, to protect him and his reputation. ‘Stay true to who you are, don’t accept any film roles just because you’re all of a sudden getting an avalanche of film roles.’ I google Ed later and find that he is replacing Jason Statham in the next Transporter movie. He has a number of movies in the pipeline, including Tiger House, Kill your Friends and Transporter 4, which would be the one to launch him into Superstardom if the movie is a hit, but by the success of past Transporter films, it is almost guaranteed. This is the real reason why he left GoT, I am convinced. By the end of dinner, I have been too enthralled in the conversation so have completely forgotten about the food. The menu delivers standard fish, pizza, and meat dishes and does what it intends to do; good, solid, reliable food that you can come back to, day after day.

As their dinner finishes, Ed Skrein gives a toast: ‘May today be better than yesterday, and tomorrow better than today’ which I thought was quite endearing (He can whisper that in my ear any day), but Mr.C found it incredibly cheesy, but that is probably because he knew that I was secretly wishing Daario would swing me onto his shoulder back to his lair tonight.

Day-time at Shoreditch House: Sneakerheads at a Sneaky Show

Day-time in Shoreditch felt like I was in the Meatpacking district without the 7 hour flight and jetlag. After a very good Eggs Benedict at the 6^th floor restaurant surrounded by brunching young families, we ventured out into the East End, which for me, was a first. We went like tourists to Spitalfields Market where we saw a 50 yo Chinese couple playing ping pong before opening their stall, wandered to Brick Lane where street artist Fanakapan was graffiti-ing elephants, and saw a never-ending line of people near the Truman’s Brewery, wondering which concert they were waiting in line for. I asked someone who looked like a man-in-the-know what they were waiting for and he told me: ‘A sneaky show.’ I am of course conjuring an x rated, sneaky, exhibitionist show in my head but had to stop myself as the attendants looked way too young, so I ask him to explain: ‘It’s a trainers market, people come here to see, trade and buy trainers like special edition Nike and Reebok.’ (The next day I ask my part time nanny what she did over the weekend she tells me that she was at a convention. ‘What kind of convention?’ I ask, when she shows me her newly acquired, impossible-to-get, black Nike high tops, that the ‘sneakerheads’ have all been clamouring to get. Wow. Where have I been? I thought sneakers were left in the eighties).

We finished off the morning with a coffee at the Boundary Rooftop, which is by the way, one of the best rooftops in the city, before Mr. C surprised me with the best pedicure in my life at the Cowshed Spa. Post-pedi, we headed for lunch around the pool, another Green Machine and Quinoa salad for me and a pepperoni pizza for Mr. C, which was unfortunately nowhere near as good as the Diavola Pizza at the Oak. I wanted to jump in the pool but Mr.C dissuaded me, ‘You don’t know what’s been in this pool’ although I am thinking that there’s nothing a little Vodka can’t clean. By the afternoon, the families had disappeared for a nap and the hipsters had exchanged their skinnies for board shorts, swanning around looking like Russell Brand, Florence the Machine and Alexa Chung (although I think it really was Alexa Chung, judging by her Hipster entourage). The scene was ‘young and cool’ against ‘Cityscape’. There was also a good gay scene, noticed by us when a young, lithe-bodied, Adonis answered the waitress when she asked the usual, ‘What can I get you?’ with: ‘A boyfriend, please. Preferably a good-looking one’.

As we left Shoreditch Hotel, Restaurant, Pool and Spa, we smugly felt that we could still hang with the ‘cool’ crowd, that is, until we saw a big graffiti outside fobbing off Shoreditch wankers and realized that we had just dropped one echelon of coolness again (although, street artists like Banksy are very happy to pick-pocket ‘Suits’ any day). Shoreditch may not be everyone’s scene, but for 24 hours, it made me feel like I had been away for a week and got my Mojo back with the help of Big Brother’s hipster scene, 500 thread count linens, condoms and Game of Thrones hotness.

Photos, Reviews, Travel

Review: Chiltern Firehouse Restaurant & Hotel

Where… ‘Everybody is treated the same!’

1 Chiltern Street, Marylebone, London W1 7PU

http://www.chilternfirehouse.com
+442070737676

Food: 4 stars

Atmosphere: 5 stars on Saturday night

Service: 4.5 stars

Design: 4 stars

Price/Value: 3.5 stars

Overall: 4 stars

Chiltern Firehouse is so talked about and its gates so photographed at the moment that I am getting palpitations from my FOMO (fear of missing out), fuelled by my frustration and jealousy that I still haven’t been since the opening a few weeks ago in February. Already, they rejected my first email reservation demand with an automated response in January pre-opening, turned down my ‘table for 6’ reservation in February, and finally I am allowed a 6:30pm reservation on a Tuesday night in March. I wonder if they have a log of all my pleading and desperate emails and phone calls and whether they will hold it against me. Yes, I am pathetic, and seemingly have nothing else to do, but let’s face it, I am not Bradley Cooper or Kate Moss or Guy Ritchie or Noel Gallagher or Bono or Stella McCartney or Andre Balasz himself. I have no VIP pull whatsoever, but merely a persevering and determined attitude that can take you a long way in America, which is where Andre Balasz found his fame as a hotelier.

Andre Balasz, the mastermind behind the glitzy and glamorous hotels Chateau Marmont in LA, the Mercer in New York, and all the Standard Hotels (one which houses the infamous Boom Boom Room), just to name a few in his collection, will now prove whether he has the Midas touch in Europe as well (unlike Keith McNally’s rather spectacular failure of bringing Balthazar to London which you can read about in Giles Coren’s review of which London restaurants should be shut down). So far, the midas magic is working. He has attracted every A-lister and tamed the biggest lions of the foodie world, with MC (master critic) AA Gill giving it 4 stars for both food and atmosphere, akin to getting a First in Chemistry by a beady eyed, unsmiling Oxford chemistry professor. But it is his collaboration with Executive Michelin starred Chef Nuno Mendes that may be the key to the success behind the Chiltern Firehouse restaurant. Nuno, the hirsute experimental ‘food artist’ who trained for years in the US, is known for offering diners a unique culinary experience, both in the carefully prepared and invented dishes, but also in the entire dining experience. Here, he says that it is a place to have ‘fun’ and ‘about the experience as a whole and the social experience of being in this room.’ It is with this vision that Andre found the right chef to head his kitchen in his Marylebone boutique hotel.

Marylebone is an interesting choice of location for this new restaurant and hotel, but upon further inspection, may prove to be a very canny and strategic move. Chiltern Street is now becoming a very chic, discrete, and cosmopolitan destination helped by Portman Estate’s financial injection and Chiltern’s arrival. As I arrive early evening on Tuesday, I discover independent boutiques and cafes lining the street, which would be favoured by A listers choosing to stay in the hotel. I am greeted by a cheerful and courteous doorman in a top hat and fancy coat standing by the gates who, unlike red-velvet rope-keepers who usually thrive on their power trip, welcomes me to a ‘home away from home.’ Once past the gates protecting the impressive pre-war Gothic fire station, I find myself in a beautiful courtyard full of daffodils and spring flowers in large terra cotta pots, a Garden of Eden, which will become the jewel in this hotel’s crown this summer.

Once inside, I am greeted by a lovely, ‘modelesque’ hostess with Nyong’o Lupita looks and another pretty hostess milling around, looking pretty. Both are almost too nice, but it comforts me into thinking that I really do belong here. It is as if all my hard work and dedication has paid off and the red velvet rope has been lifted, finally letting me in the club. I immediately head to the bar and am surrounded by ‘rah rah’ handsome city boys and foodies who have snuck in without a reservation desperate to taste Nuno’s nibbles at the bar. I order a ‘Dashamour,’ their signature non-alcoholic drink (now called a Green Goddess), which immediately becomes a firm non-alcoholic favourite with its refreshing apple and mint combination. The bar waiter with chiseled features out of GQ magazine is forgiven for looking clueless and inexperienced when I ask about my reservation because he is so easy on the eye. There is staff everywhere, ensuring everyone is well catered to, but in a charming rather than overbearing way. Andre is already scoring points with the impeccable, attentive service and good looking, enthusiastic staff. He has created a ‘model’ service imported from New York and London restaurants have a lesson or two to learn from it.

While waiting for my darling French friend A who is joining me for dinner, I ‘up-and-down’ the dining room, which is slightly a puzzle to me. I agree with AA Gill’s description of ‘weird.’ My first impression is that the main dining room manages to feel small and homey despite its multiple levels and brasserie-meets-warehouse-in-NY feel, but I don’t like the upholstered ceiling, looking up makes me think I am in a psychiatric padded cell, so I decide not to look up for the rest of the evening, which thankfully doesn’t deter from my ‘experience.’ The dramatic open kitchen is elevated above the main dining room with counter seating for the foodies to salivate as they watch bearded chefs create food magic. There are indoor trees along the back of the booths adjacent to the bar which adds to the ethereal and mystical appearance of this dining room. Groups of people wander towards what I later find out to be the kitchen and loos, both to worship the almighty Nuno, and then to escape through the magic doors in the loos to a secret smoking den.

A, whose famous alter ego is Angelina Jolie with her luscious lips and Jessica Rabbit eyes, is already being charmed by the waiters as we sit down, who all seem to be French. We hear a lot of ‘Mademoiselles’ and feigned disbelief that we are both married and yummy mummies. They know how to speak to women, these Frenchmen. The experience continues when we read the menu, which is casually printed on paper, and has words like ‘tiger’s milk’ on it. I see round, wooden plates delivering the food, realising that the whole ‘experience’ is rather casual for a Michelin star chef, which is a refreshing break from starched white tablecloths and forced-stick-up-the-ass waiters. Like a docile sheep, I copy AA Gill’s dinner order and ask for the Crispy Chicken Skin Caesar and the Shortrib with Hazelnut puree and Marrow. The caesar salad is good, although the dressing is a bit on the thick and sticky side and the chicken skin tastes like chicken stock crackling, not displeasing, but overall it is not the best caesar I have ever tasted. The shortrib is melt-in-your-mouth tender and succulent but is too heavy for me to finish. My apple granita and panna cotta is light, sweet and tart and is my favourite dish of the night. Nuno Mendes is at the helm tonight and makes an appearance, scanning the dining room from his kitchen perch, but does not look very relaxed, too pre-occupied with giving his foodies the spectacle they have come for.

The problem with restaurant reviews is that they are dependent on a) what dish the reviewer chooses, b) what the reviewer likes and c) whether chef is having a good ‘chef day.’ I decide that the meal has been very good, but perhaps not as mind-blowing as I would have expected from all the reviews and press. I decide that I need to come back to ensure I am providing an accurate review of the place. After dinner, we meet the charming maitre d’, Darius, and A tries to use her charm:

‘So, what do we have to do around here to get priority booking?’ She winks and he starts laughing and we know this isn’t going to end well.
‘Ah, the magical question I get asked every day. We treat everybody the same!’ he laughs away with a friendly, apologetic but poker face. We all laugh together knowing this is an absolute lie, but we understand the unspoken. Even if you look like Angelina Jolie, you still won’t get the A list priority booking telephone number.

Luckily, I know an M.I.P. (more important person than me) who uses his obscure LA connections to get us a booking on a Saturday night, albeit at 6pm, but for 6 people, another impossible feat for mere earthlings like you or me. The vibe on Saturday is somewhat different. Tuesday was filled with a majority of foodies, and a glamorous, eccentric, slightly older crowd, whereas the age range has dropped by a decade on Saturday and the beautiful people have arrived, flitting around, buzzing like bees on flowers in search of Nuno honey. We are seated in a booth with a view of the kitchen in the background and when 6pm turns into 8pm, Lilly Allen is sitting in the booth next to us, Louise and Jaime Redknapp sit at 2 o’clock from us, Billie Piper is behind us at the bar, and David Beckham is waiting for our table. We are sitting in prime real estate and Chiltern is a ‘who’s who’ of London. For a small moment, I am convinced that I am a VIP, drunk on the vibe which feels like I have been let in a member’s club exclusively for celebrities and sometimes allow NVIPs (not VIPs).

Dinner this time is a revelation. I have the crab doughnuts which are good, but it is the grilled octopus and wild mushrooms that I have been looking for. Delicious, divine, and delectable. The monkfish is also very good, but the rhubarb sundae dessert to me is another standout dish. The words ‘rhubarb sundae’ makes me think of a TGIF in the middle of the Cotswolds and those words don’t come close to describing what the dish represents. These are the dishes that have made Nuno famous and a Michelin star chef, and make you scramble for the telephone as soon as you leave to make your next reservation, so addictive they are. And as I leave the gates of heaven at the end of the night while my MIP friends are chatting up and getting a selfie with David Beckham, I am dreaming of trying the fried chicken bites, the DIY Japanese style steak tartare, and the Chargrilled Iberico Pork.

Andre has scored a ‘home run’ with Chiltern so far, as they would say in ‘Noo Yawk.’ He has scored the right chef, the right location, the right henchmen, and the right PR machine to create a dining room that is becoming the Chateau Marmont of London. The next day, I call for a brunch reservation thinking they may be more generous with their daytime reservation handouts and hoping to get a courtyard table, but can only get a 1:30pm Sunday reservation in two months time with no outdoor seating guaranteed. Other friends looking for an evening reservation only manage a 6pm booking on a Monday in July, when all the VIPs fly off to Club 55 in St. Tropez for the summer, reminding us that we are still merely just NVIPs. On our way out, Darius tells us not to worry, the frenzy will eventually die down, but from what I had ‘experienced,’ there didn’t seem to be anything that could slow down what is turning out to be the biggest restaurant opening in the decade. For once, my FOMO was justified.

Reviews

‘To cut or not to cut, that is the question’

This weekend was the press launch of Kevin Pieterson’s new kids hair salon, Bella & Beau, on Ledbury Road. I booked an appointment when I saw the beautiful aquarium full of baby nemos and Ariel’s sebastians, angelfish and sea anemones and since M had never had a haircut, I thought it would be OK to splurge. There, one can choose from a red fire engine with bell, a retro plane or car to sit in during the haircut. You are given an Ipad with Peppa Pig or Mickey Mouse Clubhouse to keep your kid’s head still during the haircut. There is an Alice in Wonderland sized pink piano with a large mirror out of snow white. Why don’t they have these kinds of hair salons for grown ups? I would certainly go for £100 a haircut. I told my high priestess of a hairdresser about M’s appointment and she tsk tsk’d me saying that a hair salon is not a playground and haircuts should be an experience for children to feel grown up. I cowered in shame under my gown and muttered under my breath that this was really just a one off.

The haircut itself was lovely, the lady was very sweet with M and all went accordingly to plan for the whole 5 minutes the haircut lasted, since it didn’t even include shampooing. That would equate to £5 a minute and I started to feel very guilty about this excess until I saw my daughter’s delighted face as she rang the fire engine’s bell.

I still am not sure how I stand on expensive kids’ haircuts, even though it was a lovely mummy baby bonding time. Please share your thoughts!

Bella & Beau

56 Ledbury Road

W11 2AJ

02077276636

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Category Archives: Reviews

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Review: Chiltern Firehouse Restaurant & Hotel

‘To cut or not to cut, that is the question’