»In which we are stranded in Waterloo with nothing to do but eat and drink

Giles Coren's writing in The Times is beginning to crack me up. His writing reminds me of the frustration of Nobu, cast and re-cast at the gastro pub-of-the-moment, The Anchor And Hope (or has its moment already past?). His writing is effusive, and his tendency to ramble often undermines the fact that he is writing about food, but then again so much of a restaurant is not whether the bacon-and-warm-snail salad is "like teenage sex" so much as the fancy and famous people one bumps up against at the workmanlike butcher-block tables in front of the open kitchen. And he makes a case against opening a restaurant in the middle of nowhere. This must be why Thomas Keller buggered off to New York City for Per Se. $210 my arse.