The London dining scene is a mixed bag, and no more so than in Notting Hill where you can expect to nosh on everything from fried chicken to foie gras.
But despite the variety available, a fair amount of us are guilty of settling into the same old faithfuls, reluctant to dip our toes into a sometimes baffling scene, fearing more misses than hits. Let Corner do the legwork for you by taking our oh-so-scientific quiz to figure out which restaurant on the W11 scene would suit you best. Be honest.
Lunch is usually accompanied by:
- A meal without champagne is breakfast. Actually, I drink champagne with breakfast too. I drink champagne when working out, in fact.
- Whatever I can poach from the office fridge without being caught. If you don’t label it, technically it’s not yours. That’s the law.
- A kale, cucumber, kiwi and chia seed smoothie. Blended to the recipe prescribed by my nutritionist. A healthy gut is a happy gut.
- Sparking water. It’s zero calories, yet the bubbles make me feel full and if my kid spills it on me: no stains. Not that I ever hold my kid. Or eat with it.
- Mealtimes solely exist for expense accounts, sealing deals, rubbing shoulders and laughing really loudly to annoy other diners. Especially if that diner is my wife.
- Japes, stuffing my face and finding new food trucks. And stuffing my face.
- My body is like a very expensive engine that must be fed the finest fuels. Meals don’t have to be enjoyable, they just have to be effective.
- Getting out of the house. What with the housekeeper, two nannies and estate manager, it all gets so claustrophobic. Mealtimes are my refuge.
Your Last Supper would consist of:
- If it’s on the company card, let’s go for the smoked Bantam yolk with salt-baked kohlrabi, cavolo nero, and truffle, followed by a main of osso bucco and a French cheese plate to finish. What’s that? I’m paying? Oh. Just kill me and get it over with.
- Macaroni and cheese from Electric Diner, Dirty Bones’ Brit Dog — that’s treacle bacon, mature beer cheddar, curried gherkins and English mustard on a pork sausage — and a Cookie Monster goblet from Gelato Mio.
- Why would I waste my last moments on earth eating? If there’s any time to meditate, this is it!
- Last supper? No, no, no. Daddy would have paid the ransom by that stage, I’m sure.
Your ideal meal companion is:
- Important people that can do things for me. Or not-so-important people that are impressed when I wave at more important people across a room.
- I’ve been told it’s not really that pleasant to watch me eat, so anyone willing to laugh off the ketchup in my hair and syrup down my shirt.
- Inner peace.
- Jocasta, Imogen, Bunny and Araminta (Minty to close friends) of course. Between the skiing and the house in St Barths, we rarely see each other.
A typical meal made in your own kitchen:
- Ask my wife.
- You take two Bird’s Eye premium cod fish fingers and gently place them between two slices of Hovis’ Finest White. Sprinkle with some coarsely cut (or ripped) iceberg and top with a smudge of Heinz tatare sauce, and some cheddar (if I’m feeling fancy).
- It usually involves quinoa, chickpeas, sweet potato or spiralised courgettes. It’s amazing how bland you can make food taste, if you really try!
- Kitchen? What’s a kitchen?
You’re either an MP, Philip Green or a CEO. Status is everything and you’re only as good as the last restaurant your business contact invited you to eat at. It shouldn’t be hard for someone like you to wrangle a table at The Ledbury. Confit, truffle and ceviche: this is top-notch fine dining with a Michelin star to boot. Impressive for the not easily impressed.
Is there a more godly human being on this planet than Gwyneth Palthrow? Your idol has it down to a T, though in fairness you were there first. You’ve no time to explain to a hapless waiter what the Paleo diet is; at Pure Taste the menu is already broken down into low FODMAP, paleo autoimmune protocol, NE (no eggs), NN (no nuts) and W30 (Whole 30 compliant). Joy!
Dude! Duuuuude! It’s safe to say you’ve never seen a vegetable in your life (unless gherkins and chips count), not that you’re body has started complaining (yet). The trend for dirty food — hot dogs, burgers, wings — was conceived with you in mind. Head to Boom Burger, where the messy patties have a flick of Caribbean spice and will have you licking your fingers, wrists, elbows…
It’s safe to say that food is not your thing. You last ate in 2003, so your stomach has shrunk to the size of a peanut and can’t manage more than a thimble of soup each day. Further more, any outing beyond the realms of Westbourne Grove is akin to a safari for you. Be still sweet child and treat yourself to a fruit bowl at Granger & Co. Don’t worry; you can pick the fruit out if you don’t like it!