Friday 23rd June 2017.
It was a case of the evening after the night before. The considerable achievements of a considerable career honoured with a considerable buffet and a considerable number of beers. At midnight, I hailed a cab, heading back to a distant land of sobriety and wellbeing. A considerable journey.
Somewhere adrift of that salubrious state, I found dubious comfort in the shape of one or two pre-prandial liveners at The Nursery Tavern. Our dining troop gathering there with varying degrees of vitality. Shortly, we lumbered over to the restaurant. A surprising number of tap waters accompanying the drinks orders.
An enviable perch: a private recess in the front window; a perfectly proportioned round table for seven (under a tasteful chandelier). Worthy of Camelot. Unhappily, the meal, overall, did not live up to its setting. On the plus side, credit goes to the pickle tray – five standard offerings (including lime pickle), each nicely presented/rendered. The onion bhajis were well received too. Also the seekh kebab, offering a pleasing late kick worthy of mention; a kick unaccountably missing from the bullet chilli starters. Sampling the lamb chaat, it was generally agreed that the meat in this dish outshone in succulence the lamb of the main courses, which, in contrast, was dry and overcooked. Though one could not fault the generous helpings; the sauces somewhat compensating for the mediocrity of the meat.
Service was not a glowing beacon of warmth and hospitality. Instead, a brusque, functional approach rivalling Mangla. Throw in a generous dash of inattention and tardiness, why not? Even the bill required further prompting whilst we languished amongst the dirty dishes of our long finished meal.
Judge ‘Gonzo’ Pickles