All-Day English

No, this is not an uninformed rant about immigration or anything so unpleasant. It's about good old, honest to goodness grub..

I admit it -- I do like the good things in life.

I consider myself a man of taste and am equipped with a smattering of education and an innate appreciation for quality in art, literature and design. I wouldn't say bon viveur, as it implies studied, insouant and almost greedily conspicuous consumption. No, my enjoyment of life is far more modest -- which I guess, is informed by what I like.

In matters of food, I'm well read and have a good grounding in world cuisine. My appetite can run to the exotic. I adore oysters for example. Indeed, a passion for oysters is something Pippa and I share. And one of my fondest recollections of our time together is hunkered-down for a couple of hours sampling the extensive menu of crustacea at New York's Grand Central Station. Actually, we're naming the tables at our wedding reception after varieties of oysters we've consumed and our top table will be 'Rock' -- which given my other major obsession, is appropriate ;-)

But by the same token, my taste is very basic. My ultimate 'comfort food' for example, is baked beans on toast -- all be it dolled-up with grated cheese and lashings of Lea & Perrins and ground black pepper.

But my greatest gastronomic delight is the plain old English breakfast. Not the one of Little Chefs and a million miles of road-side cafs and foul motorway service stations. Nor that of the urban 'greasy spoon' with tepid weak milky tea its ubiquitous accompaniment. No, I love my brekkie to consist of proper freshly-sourced bacon, sausage, tomato and mushroom cooked gently under a grill and drained of excess fat. This is what we have at home -- not often I hasten to add -- but every now and then as a wonderful treat and when richly deserved after trial, toil or triumph.

But with the all day English at the Londesborough just around the corner (and its sibling, The Talbot in the nearby de Beauvoir), there's no reason to stink-up our little kitchen in the morning. And the slight indulgence is made more a treat with the addition of a bloody mary or pint. This is where we go every fortnight or so -- either to lazily read the papers or just get out of the house and chat away from Ems.

So if you're ever in our bit of north London feeling a bit peckish and hanker for simple brilliance I heartily recommend this oasis. It's where I've just been, can't you tell..?