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At Camille with Elliot Hashtroudi
Borough Market on a sunny afternoon is chaos. People stream through the narrow passageways and around the wrought iron pillars painted in that unmistakable shade of dark green, gawking at stands for rare and peculiar cheeses and chocolate covered strawberries. Amongst the madness stands a little restaurant, Camille.
Eating Above a Pub
The merits of the dining room at the French House pub in Soho are multivarious and trans-seasonal. Its modest size lends it a sense of exclusivity and provides those within a temporary kinship. The staff are wry and glamorous and the menu, though compact, always manages to touch all the requisite bases. The oysters are clean and flecked with pinked shallots, the chips are skinny and honest and built like shards of ice, and the madeleines are truly imperial. There is no better way to end a meal this side of the Seine.
Editors Picks
Revue: Alex Tieghi-Walker
