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Perfection in London.
The Thomas Cubitt Public House and Dining Room in the Belgravia section of London is named for the famed builder who changed the face of the city. The Thomas Cubitt is one of many of London's gastropubs that welcomes you from the inside out. Inside I was staring at the soft corners of ice cubes that remained in a savory tumbler of vodka with a splash of soda water. I wondered what is it about London pubs that make them so appealing. And I confirmed my conclusion that the pub scene in London is perfect. Why, you ask? Because there is no pretense. London Pubs reach perfection without striving for it. A small off the main drag pub, warm when looked on from the outside, quietly lit but bustling with comfortable activity and a hum of conversation over tall beers, long drinks and sumptuous food can't be found in New York. If you were to travel to lower Manhattan to the side streets off Bowery intersected by Rivington down an alley called Freeman to a comparable space, inside you find a crowd of the city's youth that is diverse but similar in a pretentious way making you feel an outsider in small space, underdressed even when matched against a tattered tee-shirts and jeans. The scene is just too cool-for-school. Ah, New York the center of the world, but no heart whatsoever. London is a beer drinker's "kinda town." And I did not shy away from my share of pints at the Anglesey Arms or the Cross Keys in Chelsea, on a damp weekend in late March, a glass of vodka or red wine is the perfect antidote to bone chilling days. The Brits are said to have built Bordeaux by buying up and driving up the prices on all the finest claret from France. That makes it hard for the rest of us of "weak dollar" to partake in some France's finest, but with my penchant for the wines of Italy, I carried along with me a bottle of Brunello from the famed 1997 Tuscan vintage. The wine from Il Palazzone in Montalcino was everything you could ask for in grape juice - pure perfection. This particular wine, purchased when visiting the vineyard owned by Dick Parsons, CEO of Time Warner, had been staring at me since January. So, with blue skies hidden behind dense gray clouds, sitting the hotel room with corckscrew and borrowed wine glasses, a plate of meats and cheeses, bread and figs, it was time to try it. And nearly 10 years old, the wine was ready to drink. But this was not just another drink; this was a meal - palate preparing like a fun, fresh appetizer, formidable as a hearty meat dish, and delicate as a warm dessert. My tasting notes and more on Il Palazzone is after the jump. Next stop on the food chain:
Post 21 - March'06 Back to home...
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