A tube strike on Tuesday was an excuse for a walk to St James’s in sunshine.
If I’d been on the tube I would have missed the helicopter parked behind Prince Albert and I would not have seen this year’s Serpentine Gallery pavilion; the former more spectacular than the latter.
It looks like a large oil drum with an oculus. Needless to say I completely missed the point. If you’d like to wallow in pretentious twaddle you can find it here. Anyway, I hastened on to an RV with my friend, the retired banker, and we walked together across the Green Park, through Milk Maids’ Passage and in two shakes of a lamb’s tail were ensconced in our usual seats in my club bar. The regular bar tender had the day off and a dark, rangy young man from Long Island was in charge. He had that easy way so many well-bred Americans have and in no time was shooting the breeze with us without being pushy. My friend goes to Long Island in the summer, natch, and they talked about the ferries and so on. I was more interested in a recent addition to the wine list: Brooks’s Bubbly, made at the Hush Heath winery in Kent, a 2018 Blanc de Noir. It’s delicious and weighs in at the same price as the club champagne (Ayala). The barman pointed out that English vineyards have a lot of cap ex putting them at a financial disadvantage to established champagne houses. Time for a new paragraph.
We went across the road. If I may digress, in the same way as the House of Lords calls the Commons “another place”, Brooks’s members say they are crossing the road if they are going to Boodles. Actually we were going to Cafe Murano for lunch, sponsored by my friend. I had burrata, tomatoes, basil & olive oil to start. The burrata was perfetta and the tomatoes a colourful medley. The burrata wobbled, a bit like nannies’ bottom, a staple pudding in English nurseries half a century and more ago. Burrata is not to be confused with mozzarella.
“Burrata is an Italian cow milk cheese made from mozzarella and cream. The outer casing is solid cheese, while the inside contains stracciatella and cream, giving it an unusual, soft texture. It is typical of Apulia.” (Wikipedia)
We both had risotto, shellfish and saffron; main course portions and clean plates – simply delicious. To drink, a bottle of 2016 Friulano Bianco. A simple pranzo albeit at St James’s prices. But the day was still young and next up was a matinee at The Jermyn Street Theatre: Cancelling Socrates, a new play by Howard Brenton. I enjoyed it although we know how it ends.
Then home on the number 9 bus. My question is not existential. My question is whether it’s better to stand downstairs, which is hot, or to sit upstairs which is sizzling? I did both. The Socrates in the play would have had a wise crack about how I knew I was on a bus.