Joyous stage version of Aladdin delivers Disney delight

Cynicism is a fundamental trait of the English. I celebrate it when it makes satire so delightful, and political debate so practical. It gets tedious, however, when we get to the Disney argument.

A certain type of English cynic carries a strong anti-Disney argument in his soul. The loftier his education and class, the more likely he is to stick pins into the Disney balloon. For him, the company is an imperialist commercial juggernaut, destroying traditional European fairy tales with sugar-coated American endings and using film franchises to flog toys and accessories. He sees only trickery directed at small children, and can't grasp how any childless adult would willingly submit to a film, stage show or ... God forbid ... time in one of the theme parks.

While I know a few Americans who'd agree, most of us brought up in the comforting embrace of Uncle Walt's vision retain the wonder into our adulthood. Sometimes you want high culture, or an experience that pushes you to think about the contrasts and conflicts of the human condition.

And sometimes, you just want to be happy.

To feel the kind of pure, uncluttered, uncomplicated glee you touched when you were eight. Before jobs, taxes and responsibilities. Back when a fairy godmother appearing to send you to a ball, or a flying boy at your window inviting you to fight pirates, was completely credible.

If you want to re-capture that glee, and are free of Anglo-adult cynicism, book a ticket for Aladdin at London's Prince Edward Theatre. You don't even need a kid for cover. On the night we went, adults vastly outnumbered children. And many, bless them, were English.

Like The Lion King, this is an eye-poppingly lavish production with exquisite costumes and gorgeous sets. The golden cave in which Aladdin finds the lamp will drop your jaw. Agrabah's towers, palaces and markets come to glorious life. The flying carpet scene is truly magical. There are lavish, pull-out-all-the-stops song-and-dance numbers in the tradition of all the great musicals. But Aladdin is a good deal funnier, and faster paced, than The Lion King. (Which, let's face it, is dealing with some serious themes despite the hakuna matata.)

Dean John-Wilson, who comes to London from the Broadway production, solidly anchors the whole thing as the genie. He manages to remind us of the sheer brilliance of Robin Williams' original while making the role his own. The humour is wry, clever and quick, and the bromance between the genie and Aladdin is arguably more interesting than the central love story with the princess.

The writers have made several improvements on the film. Instead of Abu the monkey, Aladdin comes with a trio of mates who offer a hysterical sub-plot. Excess plot elements are pared out; we get to the cave of the lamp much faster and there's more action overall. The Sultan is less of a fool, more of an indulgent father ... which makes the plot more credible.

The only fly in the theatrical ointment is Jade Ewen's Princess Jasmin, whose singing voice isn't up to the rest of the cast and was routinely upstaged by her ladies-in-waiting. But that's easily forgotten in a rollicking evening that flies by faster than a magic rug.

Go ahead. Give in to your inner child. Book a ticket.

Completed Mary Rose Museum is one of England's best

I've written about the Mary Rose museum here before, but that was back with it was still unfinished.

Today, after a 35-year effort, all the scaffolding has been pulled away from the remains of the historic shipwreck's frame. Her restoration, and the amazing museum around her, are officially complete. Here are three reasons why this is possibly the finest museum in England today.

Spectacular design. The modern pavilion encircling the ship is beautiful on the outside and jaw-dropping within. The starboard half of the Mary Rose that's been preserved now stands upright with little visible support, as if she's a ghost ship under full sail. The spectral illusion continues as the lights come up and down, the sound of the sea washes over you from hidden speakers and clever three-dimensional film projections sometimes make it appear that people are going about their daily business within the wreck. The museum is arranged in "decks" that match the ship; you wander the port side examining objects where they would have been back in 1545. Now that the glass screens between the halves have been removed and the Mary Rose stands proudly, the illusion is complete. It's a magical space.

A compelling story. Curators have used the skeletons of a small group of crew members (including the dog) to understand what life was like on board. They then take us along a carefully considered path, getting to know these men as we look at their belongings, their skeletons, films about their lives and ultimately wax work recreations of what they would have looked like. It's bold, haunting, and connects with your gut in a way few museums are able to do. These were real people, caught up in a tragedy. You live through it with them.

Hands-on fun. The museum uses both technology and more traditional tricks to make your visit so much more than wandering around and looking at stuff. There are plenty of computer screens to let you dig deeper into information. Many of them are set up as games. From lining up cannon properly to disable your enemy to deciding what provisions to buy and how to pack your hold, the kid-friendly challenges are both fun, and teach valuable lessons about life on board. My favourite bit remains the weapons section, where you can lift models of pikes and halberds to get a sense of their weight, and try your best to draw back longbows. There are other copies of artifacts throughout to handle, and at the end there's a dressing-up area where kids can get into Tudor costume.

If all museums were like this, we'd have no problem getting children of all ages through the doors. Knowledge of history would skyrocket. There's nothing like entertainment to teach a lesson painlessly, and to deliver a life-long love of culture.

The Mary Rose is part of the Portsmouth Historic Dockyards complex. You can buy a ticket for it as an individual attraction (adults £18), or for another tenner get a ticket that includes many other naval-themed attractions, like the HMS Warrior, HMS Victory and a boat ride around the harbour to check out the naval ships currently in service. Tickets are good for re-admission over a full year, which is a good thing since you'll want to spend time looking around. Allow at least two hours to get the most out of the Mary Rose.

Unsung heroes of London dining deserve some attention

This blog is stuffed with articles about special occasion restaurants. We save up, we dine, we generally rave with appreciation ... and then we rarely go back. There's a whole other category of London restaurants in my world that I'm ashamed to admit I've never bothered writing about. My dependable "go tos" have quality food, reliable service, pleasant dining rooms and convenient locations. All are less expensive than their Michelin-starred cousins; some dramatically so. Here are my thus-far unsung London dining heroes.

Delaunay
Designed to evoke the grand, late 19th-century dining rooms of the Austro-Hungarian empire, Delaunay manages to balance elegance and sophistication with a laid-back, casual vibe. (A trait it has in common with its sister restaurants The Wolseley and Colbert.) The food is straight out of Vienna: schnitzel, goulash, spaetzle, struedel, Sacher torte. It's all excellent. Schnitzel has a light, crunchy coating surrounding meat that's still moist. Goulash comes with the kind of tart, thick soured cream you don't get here, but remember from trips to Munich and further east, while the spaetzle looks and tastes home made. Their Sacher torte, IMHO, is far better than the "original" recipe the Hotel Sacher serves up.  If you're feeling like something lighter, the menu has the feel of a posh grill, with plenty of steaks and seafood options. The latter is particularly good on the starters, where prawn cocktails, crab salads and oysters are always available.

They open early and do a wide range of breakfast options, from hearty cooked fare to an impressive range of Vienna-style pastries. Given its central location at the top of The Aldwych, where Kingsway runs into it, it's no surprise this is a popular venue for business breakfasts. They have a private room at the back that's ideal for mid-sized corporate events. It's also just on the edge of the theatre district, so a great option for pre-show dinners. It crops up a lot as a meeting point for old friends and, though always crowded, the staff never seem to be rushing you along. We recently lingered over dinner from 6:30 until late trains started beckoning around 11.

The Delaunay is the most expensive of the options listed here, with food a bit more than average and the wine list pushing into fine dining territory. You'll work hard to keep your choices under £40 a bottle. Happily, there are more frugal options for visiting, including a bargain pre-theatre menu and "The Counter" ... and informal cafe up front that sells pastries and sandwiches in a coffee bar atmosphere.

28-50 Wine Workshop and Kitchen
I've been a regular patron of this casual offering from Michelin-gilded duo Agnar Sverrisson and Xavier Rousset (Texture, Le Manoir) since their original venture in a basement off Fetter Lane circa 2010. Now there are three. My favourite occupies a light-flooded corner on a back street in Marylebone, the other is tucked in to smaller lanes just west of Regent Street. If you recognise the significance of the name ... the latitude lines between which wine grapes can be grown ... you'll grasp the hook of the place. It's all about wine, and was one of the first restaurants in London to take their by-the-glass wine list very seriously. Sommeliers rotate the bottles on offer frequently and present selections from a wide range of styles and countries. All of the servers are highly trained, able to explain more about the lists and recommend culinary pairings.

The menu changes regularly but maintains an elegant simplicity: light salads, shellfish, terrines and pates for starters; steaks, game, grilled fish for mains. Every dish has been concocted with wine in mind, making this the kind of place you can start with wine and order the food to match. Sverrisson is Icelandic, so you'll usually see some Nordic elements on offer like gravlax, open sandwiches or Icelandic fish pie ... some dusted with his trademark volcanic ash. (It's good, really.) There are sharing platters, too, perfect when you want to concentrate on wine tasting or are just dropping in for a drink before heading somewhere else. Rousset, who was the wine guy, has left the partnership to start his own place, but I think the oenological ethos and expertise was so deeply embedded by the time he left to make his loss invisible to the regular diner.

The temptation of ordering by-the-glass can drive the price up, but if you behave yourself there are bargains to be had. Especially for lunch and early dinners between 6 and 7, when 3 courses for £21 is one of London's great bargains.

Brasserie Blanc
Raymond Blanc started the trend that gave rise to 28-50: the acclaimed Michelin starred chef launching a chain of reasonably-priced restaurants so more people can experience of his style. And, presumably, so he can expand his revenues with a higher-margin, lower labour-cost operating model. In 1996, long before I could even imagine affording dinner at his flagship Le Manoir aux Quat'Saisons, I met up with friends at his newly-opened Le Petit Blanc. It was the first of what became a chain of 18 Brasserie Blancs, five in London.

Blanc wanted to bring the high quality and seasonal approach of simple brasseries in French country towns to England. There was nothing quite like it at its price point when it launched, and though it now has competition from chains like Cafe Rouge and Cote, it still stands in a category all its own. Despite being a chain, the restaurants always feel like one-offs, with excellent service and great attention to detail. Menus change with the season but are always authentically French. The plates coming out of the kitchen always feel like someone's prepared them with love. This is no doubt why we've been to more of these than any other chain restaurant in England, regularly going to the Covent Garden location (great for pre-opera dinners), St. Paul's (excellent for work) and South Bank (on the way to the train home) in London, while calling the Winchester branch our local. Despite being a chain, the decor varies between locations. They all, however, share a cozy, romantic warmth. Early in our courtship we had a memorable meal in the Cheltenham branch, from which I will always remember them taking great care over my then-boyfriend's allergy while bringing me extras of the extraordinary freshly salted and roasted local tomatoes that he couldn't eat.

We have only one complaint: there's no branch convenient enough for us to use on our regular outings with my mother-in-law. For that...

Osteria Antica Bologna
With its wood panelling and compact interiors, this neighbourhood bolthole in Clapham is surprisingly cozy despite its location on bustling Northcote Road. It's also comfortingly authentic, from the all-Italian staff to an all-Italian wine list and a menu full of regional Italian dishes that change seasonally. Chef Marzio Zacchi worked with Giorgio Locatelli at Zafferano, so there's a touch of fine dining earnestness and quality here at everyday restaurant prices.

It's not universally excellent: last visit, my pasta with wild boar sauce was eye-rollingly fantastic while my husband described his crab pasta as "pretty basic". I was dying to pinch a bite of my mother-in-law's enticing fritto misto (she said it was wonderful), but wasn't thrilled with the cannoli ... finger-sized and with a filling that lacked the density of proper cannoli cream, it suggested that while they might have Italians in the kitchen, none of them came from anywhere south of Naples. But it certainly passes my most important Italian restaurant test. Is it as good, or better, than I can do at home? Yes. And far better than most Italian places in London, which default to quick-and-easy basics and strip out authentic flavours to suit an Anglo palate. With my favourite moderately-priced Italian restaurant, Luce e Limoni, inconveniently located in a part of London beyond all of our usual flight paths, the Osteria has become my favourite spot for getting a comforting taste of my childhood.