Dining on a diet is easier than expected if you make the right choices

Unable to ignore the inevitable, I started back to Weight Watchers two weeks ago. "Inevitable" because my DNA (generations of robust but rather beefy Italians, Germans and Irish) and my great love of food have seen me grappling with excess pounds since birth. "Back" because when things get bad, I know that this is the only programme that works.

It's a shock and a challenge, of course, for the mildly hedonistic lifestyle that fuels this blog. Setting limits on what you eat and drink isn't a natural fit with going out to a lot of fine restaurants and having friends who like, and consume, generous quantities of fine wine. But it hasn't been so bad. In fact, I've lost 9.5 pounds in two weeks, and that's with the temptation of four fine restaurant outings within the fortnight. So this time, let's review those restaurants within the novel parameters of healthy eating.

First to No. 5 Cavendish Square, not a restaurant but a private members' club in a Georgian mansion tucked just behind Oxford Street. I was there for a gathering of communications directors, and it gets my full endorsement as a fine venue for a small- to medium-sized business dinners. We were in a two-room suite that ran the front of the mansion. A lovely sitting room with a grand Georgian fireplace and period furniture flows into a large dining room enclosed by exquisite Adam-style bookcases in dark mahogany. The walls are a deep, rich red, and the gracious, large windows overlook the square and its towering trees. The service and the food were both as good as the setting.

Given the choice of two options for each course, I found myself opting in each case for the dish I normally would have skipped. The crab wrapped in a spinach leaf parcel rather than the papardelle with black truffles. The monkfish and lentils rather than the roast duck. The carpaccio of pineapple with a bit of mango sorbet rather than the apple and chocolate pudding. And though I admit to looking enviously at the other plates -- especially the pasta -- I was pleasantly surprised by just how good the entire meal was. Healthy, but completely delicious.

I had a similar experience at Racine on Brompton Road, just across from Brompton Oratory. This is a restaurant that feels as if it's been whisked intact to its current location from some chic bit of Paris. The menu was filled with all sorts of tempting options. But I resisted the fois gras and opted for the assiette de legumes d'hiver. I was expecting to be disappointed and gazing covetously at my colleagues' plates. Instead, I found myself deeply satisfied by the comforting richness of the roasted vegetables that came my way. Venison was my pick for the main course, amongst the leanest and healthiest of red meats. Beautifully cooked, with just a bit of light chocolate sauce (more like mole than a sweet experience), well accompanied by shredded courgettes and spinach. My only pain point was limiting myself to just a single glass of the Gamay we were drinking. The venison really deserved more. Because it was a special event (the farewell and thank you lunch of a prized team member) we opted for all three courses. The coffee creme brulee was calling me, but I went for the sorbet. Delicate yet sharp, a perfect finish for the richness of the venison. I will definitely direct visiting friends to this place, with its fine tourist location just between Harrods and the V&A. The set menu, priced at £15.50 for two courses or £17 for three, makes Racine unusually affordable for both its level of quality, and its neighbourhood.

There was less to tempt me off my path of virtue at Fish!. As you'd expect from the name, it's a simple and straightforward menu; any fish you want, steamed or grilled, served with a variety of sauces. Here I may have taken being good too far. The steamed sea bream was bland and tasteless, as were the poached vegetables beneath it. There wasn't enough of the accompanying salsa to create anything meaningful for my tastebuds. The side dish of spinach was the best part of the meal. It accomplished my mission, which was to be able to go out with a friend while staying on track the night before weigh in, but it was distinctly uninspiring. A convivial place, however, with a beautiful location in a big glass shed in Borough market, beneath the looming bulk of Southwark Cathedral. Convenient enough to try again.

The best combination of naturally healthy menu and delicious taste, however, must be Noura. This family owned mini-chain (there are five) of Lebanese restaurants produces delicately spiced and beautifully presented dishes in a sophisticated atmosphere. I was at the branch in Victoria, just a stone's throw from the back corner of Buckingham Palace, and found myself thinking what a shame it was that so many tourists ate at horrible pubs in the area when they could get a treat like this. We went for a selection of mezze, most generally weight watchers friendly (if a bit heavy on the olive oil). Home made hommous, rice and meat wrapped in marinated grape leaves, roasted eggplant, spiced meat rolls. The toughest temptation here was not eating too many of the fresh, hot pitta breads that the attentive waiters kept piling on the plate. And limiting myself to just one of the deep fried options. Of all the restaurants mentioned here, I suspect I'll be back at Noura soonest ... diet or no.

Ellen's top tips for Venice

A friend recently headed to Venice on holiday and asked for my top tips on the city. I thought I'd share them with a wider audience.

Venice deserves all its superlatives. It is an architecturally unique, magical place that seems to define romantic sensibility. Sadly, it's also a place that is completely ruined by tourists.

My top tip: avoid Venice in the summer. What you'll take away is a memory of a polyglot crowd, packed shoulder to shoulder at every major sight. The discomfort of the humid heat and the undertone of boiled sewage wafting up from the canals. The deeply average food surved with little care and a desire to turn tables as quickly as possible. Venice over the summer holidays can epitomise the worst of Italy. You'll still wonder at the sights, but you'll have to work very hard to do so and the whole experience will leave a bitter aftertaste.

But Venice off season is bliss. I'm particularly fond of January, just before Carnivale starts. The weather can be beastly ... cold, damp, foggy, grey. Which can also be atmospheric. Losing yourself in a warren of backstreets and bridges over foggy canals, with any sound beyond your own footsteps muffled, is captivating. And you can get lucky and get a day of vivid winter sunshine, where the festive colours of the buildings and the blues of the Grand Canal are more vivid without the heat haze. In January, you'll have the city almost to yourself, restaurant owners will actually pay attention to you, you'll hit the post-Christmas sales and all the tourist shops will be fully stocked in anticipation of the pre-Lenten festival.

RESTAURANTS
Avoid any places with tourist menus in multiple languages next to photos of their food, all on a dog-eared, laminated card. Generally this means steering clear of any place right near St. Mark's square. There are some really dreadful restaurants in Venice, probably because there are so many tourists that they can get by without any repeat customers. You want to try to look for places off the beaten track that are patronised by locals - the best places are in the districts of San Polo, Dosuduro & Cannaragio. A menu only in Italian is usually a good sign. Seafood is, of course, what to eat in Venice. A particular specialty is pasta turned black with cuttlefish ink, often served with the cuttlefish (sepie).

Places to try:
Trattoria da Ignazio, San Polo, Calle Saoneri, 2749, Tel: +39 041 5234852 Open: Sunday through Friday. A real local place in a bit of Venice that doesn't get so much tourism. I think they've started to become "discovered" a bit since I'm seeing them popping up in tour books now, but last time I went it was entirely locals. Fantastic food in an upmarket, modern, elegant surrounding. Every friend I've sent there has raved.

Antica Trattoria Poste Vecie, http://www.postevecie.com/ OK, this one isn't off the beaten tourist track. It's right in the middle of it, in fact. They even have a web site; dead giveaway. Despite that, I still recommend it. They say they're the oldest restaurant in Venice. The atmosphere is absolutely lovely, and great in the winter with roaring open fires. It's right near the Rialto bridge and the old fish market, so very much steeped in tradition.

Enoteca Al Volto, Calle Cavalli. This is a little local wine bar that also serves snacks. You wouldn't go here for a full meal but can get some good nibbles. The wine selection here is fantastic, especially of local varieties from around Venice and the northeastern bit of Italy. Try a sciopettino … lovely, peppery and fruity red that rarely makes it out of Italy. Another choice that's been regularly validated by friends on subsequent visits.

The biggest rip-off in Venice, to my mind, is Harry's Bar. OK, they invented the Bellini and Hemingway drank there. But today the drinks are wildly overpriced, the Bellinis are average, the food (as reported by a friend who recently ate there) is bad and only the big spenders get the tables with the view of the grand canal.

SIGHTSEEING
To my mind Venice is the most beautiful city in the world in which to simply walk around and look at architecture. You don't really have to go inside any museums. Just looking at the city itself does the trick. My top specific sightseeing highlights are:

The Doge's Palace - most people also don't give it enough time. It's huge, and you can easily spend a whole afternoon wandering about inside of it. There's a really good audio tour that I'd recommend getting. It puts the whole place in context and gives a good view of the history … which can be confusing. (If you'd like to get familiar with that complex history before you go, try John Julius Norwich's A History of Venice.)

Scuola Grande di San Rocco - it's essentially a big meeting hall, built by a charitable fraternity (a bit like the Masons.) It's remarkable because they brought in Tintoretto to decorate the whole thing. The walls and ceilings are amazing. Similar to the Sistine Chapel in the scope and drama of the art, but darker and more emotionally haunting.

Fish market in Rialto - It's very lively and you'll see beautiful fish and produce. It's one of the best parts of the city to drink in local flavour, as so many locals still come here to do their shopping from all the little stalls.

Murano - go here if you want to buy glass. Plus it's a nice trip out there on the boat and the Island is very pretty. And you can see people blow glass which is rather fun.

Note that gondolas are amazingly expensive. You'll want to negotiate a price before you get in. A friend who recently visited told me the going rate was about €60 for 45mins. For a cheap alternative with similar views, ride the No 1 water bus that runs the length of the grand canal. This must be the best sightseeing from any public transport route in the world.

Shopping
Venice has managed to resist the incursion of any large brands. The city is still filled with tiny, locally owned shops, many selling exquisite works of local craftsmanship. Murano glass is the item most people return with. This comes in a variety of forms, from glassware and carafes to artistic display peices to a dazzling variety of jewelry. Also unique to Venice are the carnival masks. There are makers all over the city and these are still all hand crafted. Less well known is Venice's historic leadership of the Italian printing industry. The first and finest presses were here, and there are still many shops selling hand made leather books for all occasions. These shops are similar to those elsewhere in Italy, but I believe there's a subtle difference in quality. Like the rest of Italy, fine leather goods abound.

Stars come out to play at the Donmar Warehouse

The Donmar Warehouse is perhaps the most fashionable theatrical venue in London. The 250-seat theatre is a not-for-profit organisation, sitting beside its larger and more commercial cousins in the West End theatre district. It's built up a mighty reputation, regularly pulling major stars onto its stage ... and into its audience. Tickets are amongst the hardest to get in London, but thanks to my friend Hillary and her membership in the organisation, Friday night found me sitting in the third row of their acclaimed, and long sold-out, production of Othello.

Third row sounds amazing. And it was. But it wasn't a unique view. That's third of five rows on the ground floor, with another five rows in a balcony above. This is a tiny theatre, with a stage many times bigger than the audience area. So I doubt there's a bad seat in the house. If you manage to get in, you're guaranteed an intimate experience.

The star draw for this production was Ewan McGregor as Iago. I was a bit sceptical. He's charismatic and deeply sexy, but could he be evil? Yes, actually. Though not the strongest of the cast, he gave a fine performance and was completely believeable. In fact, the casting of someone who usually plays good guys was a bit inspired; it was easy to believe that Othello and company could be completely taken in by the facade of honesty and kindness.

Iago's role is laden with soliloquies. That's how we in the audience get to see the duplicity and the building tragedy. Played badly, all this talking to the audience can make Iago a comic book villain. McGregor capitalised on the size of the Donmar to make direct eye contact with individual audience members, rather than talking to the audience in general. The effect was electrifying. Especially if, like me, you were lucky enough to have those mesmerising eyes boring into yours for a minute or two.

The real star of the production, however, was Chiwetel Ejiofor as Othello. A British actor who is building up quite a portfolio of supporting roles and leads in quirky films like Kinky Boots, he was a forceful and magnificent presence. This was the first time I've heard the Moor played with a North African accent ... which is, of course, as it should be. The different accent, in addition to his colour, worked beautifully to accentuate Othello as an outsider.

Heretical as it is to criticise The Bard, I've always had a bit of an issue with the pacing on this play. I find it incredible that Othello could go from complete love and trust to the conviction that his wife is a whore in just one scene. While the emotional turnabout in the plot still wasn't credible for me, Ejiofor's portrayal of the changes in Othello before and after the crisis were. His body folded in on itself and appeared increasingly wracked by pain as his doubts about Desdemona grew.

The final scenes had everyone on the edge of their seats. Othello's tormented rage when he realised the truth was palpable, Desdemona's preparation for her deathbed tragic. All this was accented with spare but dramatic scenery and the occasional bit of soundtrack music to heighten the tension. Rarely have three and a bit hours of theatre sped by more quickly.

True to Donmar form, the stars were in the audience as well as on the stage. American actress Anne Hathaway (Devil Wears Prada, Becoming Jane) sat immediately in front of me. She was the first person in the audience on her feet as the actors took their bows. Thus validating our enjoyment of the evening ... the professionals were just as impressed as we were.

Valentine Musings: Is Jane Austen a saint, or an author of woe?

Another Valentine's Day alone. No matter how reconciled you become to being single, this day is always a trial. The rest of the world seems to be attached, and most of the women you pass are carrying armloads of red roses and knowing smiles of anticipation. The planet is gorging on an amorous feast, and all you can do is stand at the door looking in and acknowledging your gnawing hunger.

And so home to this night's regular ritual: A snuggle on the couch with the dog and a film of one of Jane Austen's novels.

I am certainly not alone in taking refuge in the alluring tales spun by the patron saint of single women. Nobody in history has captured female fantasies quite like Jane. I do sometimes wonder, however, how much damage those stories have actually wreaked as they shaped impressionable young minds. Miss Austen may very well have launched a demonic evil, setting expectations over two centuries of womanhood that mankind will almost never be able to meet.

Austen's heroes could only have been created by a single woman. They're too perfect; the embodiment of fantasies and desires rather than experience or reality. And yet, she managed to capture ... or perhaps to create ... all the classic, and generally mythological, archetypes of the perfect man.

There's the poster child for fidelity, the long-suffering Colonel Brandon. Alone for 20 years as he remained true to his first love, finally awakened to a new life by the right woman. Looking for the father figure and mentor turned lover? Bring on Mr. Knightley. The best friend who matures into your soul mate? Meet Edmund Bertram. And then there's the most dangerous of them all: Fitzwilliam Darcy.

The Darcy myth is writ deep on the female soul. This is the one that has you believe a man's red flags and serious character flaws are actually just surface affectation. The devotion of the right woman will blast all those issues away, transforming him into the Prince Charming within. It certainly worked for Elizabeth Bennett. Leaving us all to believe, deep down, that inside every man there's a noble, generous, intelligent soul whose happiness will only be complete when he's guided to his true self by the steadfast love of a perky, intelligent woman.

You try hard not to believe it. You tell yourself that love doesn't magically transform people, and that men are what you see. Don't expect change. And yet the tendrils of hope planted in your pre-pubescent brain ... lying somewhere near the concepts of happily ever after, looks don't matter, and you achieve anything you want if you work hard enough ... still wrap around your heart. Yes, Darcy is a myth. But he, like his Austen fellows, is a beguiling and life affirming myth. Those heroes send a message of eternal optimism to the heart. It's unlikely, but men with the potential to love like this could be possible, couldn't they?

So thanks, Saint Jane, for providing the antidote to a miserable day. Hope springs eternal, with a little help from you, a stack of DVDs and a loving dog. Who is, of course, named Mr. Darcy.

Caribbean offers more variety than you'd expect: Additional highlights from the cruise

Diversity is not a term I would have instictively given to the Caribbean before visiting the region. We've all drunk enough from the well of popular culture to think we know what to expect: tropical islands, colourful buildings, great beaches, a population primarily of African descent, a bit of piracy and a lot of sugar cane. And yes, that's all there. But the impression I'm left most strongly with, after two cruises through the region, is the broad variety.

Caribbean islands are disinctly different in their topography, populations, culture and offerings to the tourist. I've spent so little time in each place that I can't claim much expertise in defining those differences, but it's obvious they're there. This is probably the best excuse possible for opting for a cruise. Whilst you could spend an idyllic fortnight on any one island, you'd miss the heady variety the region offers.

So, in addition to the favourites cited in the past two blogs, here are a few other highlights, notes and tips from this trip's ports of call.

Developing v. Developed World

Travellers should remember that the Caribbean, although long the playground of wealthy nations, is actually made up by a bunch of developing economies. The commercial centre of Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas, and the new cruise port in Grand Turk disguise that with their well maintained, upscale tourist areas. Port of Spain, Trinidad, is a major metropolis dotted with shiny glass office buildings at its core, where St. John's Antigua (at left) is filled with weathered buildings that look like they've been gently collapsing of a century. But in many other places you get the sort of good natured chaos, litter-strewn byways, potholed roads and ramshackle buildings I've seen on my visits to Africa. Grenada is particularly poignant, with so many buildings still standing roofless due to hurricane damage. This chaotic shabbiness is nothing to be scared of; use common sense and I think you're as safe here as in any big city in the world. You do, however, need to adapt your expectations. This is the real Caribbean, not the Disney version.

Shopping Mecca

These people take "duty free" seriously. Alcohol and tobacco abound at every port. But the real buy here is jewelry, and the place to buy it is St. Thomas. When I visited here more than a decade ago, I remembered a main street with a variety of shops. No longer. Clearly, the jewelry sells. Because Charlotte Amalie must be 90% jewelry shops, a quantity and density I've never seen before. I'm sure there are more than 100 outlets. Although, like the tiny shops on Florence's Ponte Vecchio, it seems that some people own multiple shops. Like traps spread to catch animals in the forest, it's pretty tough to run this gauntlet for more than a couple of hours without finding yourself reaching for a credit card you had no intention of using. I ended up buying a Philip Stein watch at about 15% below American prices and half of what I would have paid in the UK. Of course, I had no intention of buying a new watch, but these things happen...

The Island of Pearls

Isla Margarita is part of Venezuela, and instantly feels culturally different from the rest of the Caribbean. This is definitely South America, from the Spanish faces to the latino beats coming out of every radio. Known as the island of pearls because those gems were so abundant in colonial days you could pick them up on the beaches where they washed up, and the natives draped themselves with strands of them. While not quite so prolific today, the pearl beds still yield a lot of jewellry for sale all over the island. Again, my credit card made an unscheduled appearance. But the multi-layered strand of multi-coloured, small, irregular pearls I purchased was too unique to pass up.

No Need for Tours

The cruise companies are relentless at selling day excursions for each port of call. And in most cases, it's a good idea. Most cruise ports project from urban areas. While you might get shopping within an easy walk, beaches usually require some transport. Two notable exceptions: Grand Turk and Isla Margarita. In both cases, I had pre-booked excursions and was then rather irritated to see exquisite beaches a few hundred yards from the ship. In both places, there's absolutely no need to plan for anything but a short walk. And both have shopping as well, Isla Margarita in a long line of thatched booths, Grand Turk in a shining new mall. That said, the tours I took in both places were fantastic, so I have no regrets. But it would have been nice to know in advance that I had the nearby option.

The New Florida

The charming, and still fairly undeveloped, island of Bonaire seems to be becoming a haven for American retirees. The guides on our snorkelling tour were Americans who had come to the island to enjoy the weather, and stretch their budgets. One of them told me his government pension didn't stretch to survival up north, but worked well down there. There are signs everywhere for new housing developments. A small place a mile or so from the beach, evidently, can be had for US$120,000. The island is far enough south that it's out of the main hurricane belt, so probably not a bad investment. Bonaire is not an attractive place if your back is to the coast. It's a scrubby, flat sand spit of an island with little vegetation, though flamingos dabbling in inland pools add colour. But turn your face to the sea, and you're drenched with beauty. I certainly wouldn't mind spending my golden years here.

There's a small bar in the main town, really just a bunch of thatched huts at the end of a pier, at which I can envision myself becoming a regular as I write my memoirs and entertain tourists with tales of my colourful life. Sadly, I suspect that by the time I'm ready to retire, Bonaire will be built up, no longer a deal, well populated and looking a lot like its neighbour Aruba. Which is a bit too much like Dallas on the Caribbean for my tastes.

Caribbean Week 2 completes line up of fantasy beaches

Growing up in the United States, I always figured there were beach families or mountain families. With only 10 or 15 vacation days a year, busy parents could really only take one major family holiday. If you grew up in a family fortunate enough to travel, the choice of the year's big holiday typically seemed to come down to skiing, or sand. My family was solidly in the latter camp. I spent most summer holidays in the picturesque resort of Lauderdale-by-the-Sea, Florida, and learned to swim in the Atlantic at such a young age that I have no memory of ever NOT being at home in the waves.

To me, therefore, a good beach is synonymous with all things restful and calming. The better the beach, the more soothed the soul. My second week in the Caribbean took me to three beaches, in rapid succession, that transported me direct to the heaven foreshadowed on the best beach in Week 1.

These four pieces of perfection were: the Baths at Virgin Gorda; Windsock Beach, Bonaire; Playa del Agua, Isla Margarita; and, Maracas Bay, Trinidad.

The Baths remain my favourite. Like other spectacular beaches in the Virgin Islands, they benefit from the fact that they're set within an island chain, with other islands clearly visible from the beach. Vivid green hills loom above waters striped with a crazy variety of blues and greens, the colours all so vivid they almost hurt your eyes. The defining element of the Baths is volcanic rubble. Giant boulders, some the size of small houses, litter the beach and the sometimes-steep path to it. The boulders create a series of intimate pools for bathing. It might be a bit challenging in high surf, but was sheer perfection on a calm day like the one on which we visited.

On to Windsock Beach on Bonaire, so named because it's right next to the airport. As the little island only has a handful of flights a day, this is not a problem. All of Bonaire is known for beaches; it's not much more of a sand spit itself. The physical beach itself isn't that magnificent here -- too rocky for perfection -- but it wins top honours as a snorkelling beach. It's surrounded by coral reefs that start immediately off shore. Perhaps 20 yards from the beach, the shallows fall over a cliff that plunges 6000 feet into the depths. It's lovely to hang there observing the difference between the bright shallows and the darkness below, while large schools of colourful fish drift across the top of the cliff. Windsock is a lovely little stretch of white sand with sheltering trees to provide some shade. It's easy to get to, and provides a great view back towards the rest of the island and the cruise port. But best of all is the "walk in" snorkelling. It's unusual to be able to stroll off a beach and immediately be able to indulge in an underwater show. Particularly good for people who aren't powerful swimmers; you can see lots while having the confidence that you can put your feet on solid ground without too much trouble.

Playa del Agua perhaps seemed more exciting than it really was simply because I was, technically, on a new continent. Isla Margarita is in the Caribbean, but it's also part of Venezuela, so I could rejoice that I was on a South American beach. It is certainly one of the longest strips of sand I've ever seen. Two full miles of wide, smooth, clean, white, powdery sand. As you'd expect from the gentle slope of the sand, the walk into the waves is equally gentle. A wonderful swimming and lounging beach. The swimming reminded me a bit of Lauderdale, to be honest, except that the sand is fringed with huge palm trees and behind them loom mountains. A bit more picturesque! Playa del Agua is like a European beach in that the beach front is lined with restaurants and bars. They don't own the beach, but they do own the deck chair concession on their strip of it. So the best option here seems to be to form a relationship with a good bar.

Our tour took us to Bar Marlin, a lovely place almost exactly in the centre of the beach. It's a large restaurant, thatched with palm and open to the air across its front. I would have liked to stay there; I bet dining here while looking out at the beach would be fantastic. The biggest drawback of this beach is the beach vendors. It's rare to have more than 5 minutes' peace before someone is offering you beach towels, jewellry, sunglasses, fresh oysters, etc. While it's initially interesting to watch this mobile mall, it gets irritating quickly. At least they do take no for an answer, so it's the irritation of waving flies away rather than dealing with their bites.

Our final beach of the cruise, and my favourite after Virgin Gorda, was Maracas Beach on Trinidad. This is your classic tropical beach, the mental postcard in everyone's mind. A mile of white sand, perhaps 50 yards wide, encircled by forested mountains that reach out into the sea, providing a sheltered bay. Palm trees provide shade along the full length of the beach. There are only a handful of bars and restaurants; this is primarily nature in its simplest beauty, with the car parks positioned far enough back to recede from consciousness. For the first time in my experience in the Caribbean, we also encountered life guards.

This is a well patrolled and beautifully maintained beach. The surf was a bit rough when we were here, so no surprise. Weaker swimmers would be better off at Virgin Gorda. But for people who wanted to throw themselves into the waves, this beach was great fun. I imagine it gets quite crowded on holiday weekends, but it is ... at least at this writing ... remarkably unspoiled and pristine. There's just one hotel, at one end of the beach where a small fishing village nestled. Very, very tempting to check out for a future visit.