I fear that media company parties at impressive London locations and alcohol-sodden agency bashes reminiscent of university fraternity raves may be consigned to history. I suspect that the recession gave them a chance to look at those huge expenditures and realise they weren't getting that much business off their largess. Instead, as with last year (see 20.12.09), holiday celebrations were limited to smaller team lunches, dinners and theatre outings. Far better for the liver but, given the quality of the restaurants in the mix, no good for the diet.
Christmas outing No. 1 (team lunch with my lead communications agency) was at The Duke of Wellington in Marylebone. A gastropub of the kind becoming classic in London: Scrubbed wooden tables, bit of modern art on the wall, big bar but clearly much more about dining than standing around drinking. There's a first floor dining room we didn't see, and I suspect that might be more in keeping with the high quality (and prices) of the food. But for a large Christmas celebration, the almost Dickensian feel of the ground floor, with its big Georgian windows overlooking classical terraces, was perfect.
The food was good (and has gotten many rave reviews in London papers) though, to be honest, on par with most other gastropubs of this type. The one wacky bit of innovation on the menu that day was lobster macaroni and cheese. Had to be tried, and was certainly edible, but left me thinking there's a reason Italians have made a rule that you shouldn't mix cheese and fish. It's just does not do either of them justice. Otherwise, hearty, seasonal food, nicely prepared and attractively served. If I needed something in the Marylebone, I'd definitely go back, but I wouldn't go across town for it.
Christmas outing No. 2 (lunch with a broadcast/media company) won the novel cuisine award. Eastern European restaurant Baltic was a perfect choice for a cold, snowy day and gave me an appreciation for how well that cuisine matches bad weather. I wasn't particularly innovative in my ordering, opting for gravlax with potato pancakes followed by beef goulash with lashings of sour cream. Talk about stick-to-your ribs food! No surprise that I was warmed, comforted and full after that (no room for dessert), though I could have used a nap. The goulash was excellent, but the potato pancakes were overdone and unexceptional; not a patch on my boyfriend's Danish version. The novelty of the place might see me coming back, however, as there were many other things worth exploring on the menu. And the range of flavoured vodkas behind the bar did make me think a weekend visit could be in order.
Outing No. 3 (lunch with the MD of one of our copywriting agencies) won the good food award. Imperial China is, by miles, the best dim sum I've ever had. It's in a tiny courtyard off Lisle Street in London's Chinatown, and first came to the notice of my host when he learned this was the place the Chinese embassy recommended for taking the ambassador and other officials when British executives entertained them. Certainly we were amongst the few European faces in the place, which is always a good sign. The procession of dishes was diverse, beautifully cooked and well spiced; I wrote down the order because I'd get the exact same again.Prawn dumplings. Prawn dumplings with chives. Vietnamese spring rolls. Fried crispy squid with sauce. Baked pork cakes with sesame. Crispy cheung fun (a soft rice noodle roll with some crispy fried noodle in the middle). Cheung fun fried in XO sauce (fried sheets of rice noodle stir fried with bean sprouts in a spicy sauce). A veritable feast, coming in ... quite remarkably ... at less than £30 for the two of us. This place is a gem, worthy of becoming a regular haunt. Worth noting, however, that my host warned against coming here for dinner, when the prices shoot up.
Outing No. 4 (with the customer reference programme team) started at Joe Allen's and moved on to see "Oliver!" at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. Allen's is unavoidable for any American expat. An American chop house pulled right out of the New York theatre district (the original sister restaurant is there), it serves American classics in a brick-walled, subterranean place just off The Strand. Its decoration wavers between theatre posters and American sports heroes, and the old guy who fires up the piano bar with sing-along show tunes is legendary. The food is good but unremarkable, with two exceptions: ribs and cheesecake. They have the best versions of both these American classics to be had in London. I wouldn't order anything else here. A rock solid, dependable spot for pre- or post-theatre dining.
The production of "Oliver!" has been getting marvelous reviews since its revival. And they're deserved. This is, of course, one of the great musicals, crowded with memorable tunes and enlivened by an exciting plot with interesting characters and real drama. The actors in this production were excellent, particularly Oliver, the Artful Dodger and the rest of the gang of boys. The sets were as much of a star as the actors, with scenery moving in and out, back and forth to give a tangible, detailed London-scape. It is, in fact, a great improvement on the film, which drags heavily in the second half. This version picks up the pace and condenses the drama, still getting all the plot elements in but not giving you time to be bored. An excellent night out and well worth the ticket price.
Though I must admit that given the darker side of the plot, I was rather surprised by all the children in the audience. I wouldn't have recommended this one for an outing with younger children. I don't remember if they spin it this way in the film, but here Nancy was clearly a child prostitute, pimped from an early age by Bill Sykes. It gives a bit more reason for her inability to walk away from him, and adds even more poignancy to the tragedy. "Oliver!" may be the heart warming story of an orphan who discovers his family and comes out right in the end, but ... in true Dickens style ... it's also an exploration of the underbelly of Victorian London and a portrait of an abusive relationship that degenerates into a horrific murder. I wonder if all the parents in the room remembered that before booking?
And thus ends a quiet but enjoyable season of office parties. Now it's time to wrap up work, batten down the household hatches and get out for the big, bi-continental Christmas and New Year extravaganza we've been planning since April. St. Louis, Chicago, Copenhagen ... here we come.
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