It was not an auspicious start. An ultra-popular Spanish tapas bar in the heart of Soho, with only 23 seats inside (generally the only place in England you want to be) and a no booking policy; it all added up to a exceedingly long wait. But, we were determined to endure it and to find out why so many people in London are repeatedly willingly to do the same.
Not even the petulant waiter – Basil Fawlty and Manuel’s love child – and his permanent look of harassment would deter us (nor his failure to offer us a much needed drink while we patiently waited and looked on at the seated and eating patrons with ravenous envy).
There was just ‘something’ about this place. Even waiting in line you could feel its ‘vibe’ and, by this stage, we were doggedly determined to snare one of the few, prized seats around the American-diner-style bar (we passed the time by discussing the merits of each possie and then taking bets on which coveted pew we would eventually end up scoring).
When we were finally seated (hurrah!), it was as though the arduous prelude never happened. Efficient and engaging (though, still a little eccentric) service kicked into action and we looked on with hungry anticipation as each dish was whipped up in front of us by a team of amiable chefs.
And those dishes were worth the wait.
If… “anything and everything a chap can unload, is sold off the barrow in Portobello road”…then anything and everything a chap (or chapette) can eat, is sold off the market near Borough High Street.
Every Thursday, Friday and Saturday, London’s oldest food market comes alive with stallholders peddling everything from fresh fruit and vegetables, cheeses, meat, seafood, game, preserves, freshly baked bread and pastries, confectionery, spices, wines, teas, take-away meals, local produce, organic produce, allergy-friendly goods, imported European products…and the gastronomic list goes on and on. 
Heston Blumenthal’s relatively new London restaurant, Dinner is so named to reflect its menu – an innovative tribute to Britain’s extensive gastronomic history.
A real sense of occasion was firmly established the moment we rolled up to the Mandarin Oriental Hotel; the grandiose, old-worldy building that houses Heston’s swish noshery. 
When I was a much younger and poorer lass, I lived and worked in a great, gourmet wilderness called London town. Many years have now passed, and I am happy to be able to say that the city’s culinary scene has come a long way since those ‘darker’ days.
