Good Lord, what a year it’s been! A year later, a year older and we have learned a huge amount about blogging, eating and having amazing friends. We’ve written about so many different things that looking back on the 90 odd posts we’ve shared with you it’s too hard to mention them all so we thought we would give you another chance to check out a couple of our favourites that you might have missed the first time.
We’re all friends here so I feel that we’ve reached the point in our relationship that we can be brutally, frighteningly honest with each other. There are really only two types of people who eat at Michelin starred restaurants other than professional chefs: those who have more money than sense and those who want to impress someone else. And with no sense of shame I’ll admit that for my recent visit to Paris House, I fell very firmly into the latter category. It was my fifth Wedding Anniversary and by God I had quite a few Husband points to make up this year.
I should start this review with a caveat that says I’m going to be quite tough on Paris House. I’ll pick up on a couple of things that other places would probably got away with, but these guys have got a Michelin star and for the prices they are charging, you (and they) should expect perfection.
What is it about midweek drinking that seems like such a good idea at the time but which can so easily turn into the morning after sent directly from the crotchpocket of the Devil himself? I used to be able to to do it, I really did. I used to be able to shrug off a couple of three quid bottles of barrel scraped plonk that I picked up from the local petrol station before a nice little night cap of Asda own-brand whiskey*, then get up bright eyed and bushy tailed before breezing into the office without stinking like Father Jack after a particularly heavy session. But no more, and quite honestly I’m pretty glad about that because it means if I do deliberately choose to make myself feel like crap for a day or so, you’ll be damn sure I’ll do it in style.