Somehow, every time I go to London, the sun comes out. I don’t know how this keeps happening, but I’ll take it. Like New York, it’s a walking city—once I remind myself to look the wrong way before crossing the street. Beautiful parks everywhere. It’s clean. And noticeably quieter than New York.
We had a real whang-banger of a week. Double dinners, double cocktails. We visited Jeremy King’s stunning Simpson’s on opening night. Tanya, our MD in Europe, really packs it in when the Americans are in town. Respect. Some highlights:
Dogs are happier in London. They can run off-leash in the parks, which makes so much sense. Poor New York City dogs—it’s a hard life, comparatively.
Many restaurants feel communal and offer counter seating exclusively—everyone dining thigh-to-thigh, watching the kitchen action. At Barbary, pictured above, counter seating offers a front-row seat to the open fire, where North African dishes arrive hot and deeply aromatic. Dover Street Counter is hot to trot. Barrafina, Padella, Palomar, Dorian. It’s a whole vibe.
When I mentioned this to my London friend Ben Schott, he said the funny thing is there are actually very few places to sit and eat at a bar in London, the way we do in New York. Like my favorite bar-dining spot, The Odeon, for instance.
Speaking of counters, I’m in love with London’s “leaners”—the shelves that run outside alongside pubs and restaurants—sometimes even a two-tier situation, with a small ledge for your wine glass and a lower one for a small plate. No chairs, obviously, but incredibly convivial.
And, honestly, who doesn’t like being outside? Londoners live with more gray skies than most of us—so I imagine if it’s not raining, everyone’s like: Let’s get out there. Might as well have a pint while you’re at it. Because, these days, all we know we have for sure is this minute.