Thanksgiving in November, Christmas in December, Burn’s
Night and Chinese New Year in January: it seems that every calendar month has
an event that defines it from a gastronomic standpoint. February is no
different. Valentine’s Day stands out in a particularly cringe kind of way, the
scores of men and women suddenly fancying themselves as little Heston’s and
trying to impress their sweethearts with generally misguided culinary exploits occasioning
a strange brand of pity. Equally pathetic is the way people willingly
buy into below average restaurants offering ludicrously priced ‘special’ set
menus that get you little more than a weak prosecco-based cocktail and
something bland tasting but inevitably heart-shaped for the premium. So if
V-Day is generally accepted as being a shallow marketing exercise, what does
the evangelical food perv have to look forward to before the slow dawn of
Spring elicits wet dreams of barbeques and new season lamb?
For something original, follow the lead of our American
brethren and go all out for the Super Bowl this weekend. Of course, you could
do the easy thing and go for a usually ill-advised Sunday night out. London
offers several good options: close to my home in Hackney, Road Trip Bar on Old
St is renowned for its sizeable ex-pat contingent and seems a decent bet for a
good time, though this is based on word-of-mouth rather than personal
experience. Spread fairly democratically across the capital, Bodean’s BBQ offers
a good value night out, with £25 getting you a table and food before the big
game and at half time. Sure, it can’t even shine Pitt Cue Co’s shoes, but it’s
not that bad. Honest, I’m sure the
food poisoning I got a few years back was a one-off! The Sports Café in Haymarket is the rowdiest
atmosphere, generarally made up of American students - sorry, 'college kids' - and perfect if you want to satisfy your inner Bluto. If you can beat my personal best of fifty buffalo wings in one sitting, I'll post your photo on Scav Gourmet!
