Let’s face it, any woman worth her salt (naturally of the Maldon Sea variety) knows her own mind. Such a mind, whilst eminently capable of focussing on ostensibly weightier matters, is likely to be finely attuned to matters of dining, shopping and sex in varying degrees, depending on her mood. However, when the three combine to spectacular effect, it is an experience she is biologically incapable of forgetting.
Enter the London Street Brasserie. If you have ever shopped at The Oracle in Reading and suddenly been struck by a longing to settle in a sophisticated oasis…If you have found your perfect dress in Reiss or House of Fraser and wanted to celebrate the moment with a glass of perfectly chilled Champagne…If you have been hungry, but not so starved as to be tempted by a dull chain restaurant… If you have tried on countless pairs of unsuitable jeans and found yourself hankering after a welcoming smile and an irresistible menu…If you have ever experienced any of these things, then the London Street Brasserie is for you.
At this particular restaurant, the dining, or lunching, is tempting from the outset (of which much more later); the shopping is right next door, but just far away enough to be a pleasant memory by lunchtime; and the sex, or rather the sexiness, is everywhere – in the laid-back elegance of the décor, in the wonderful service and in the food, heaven knows, definitely in the food. And the wine. A quick glance around confirms that movers and shakers of the male kind love it, but it is somewhere that ladies – from Jordan to Joanna Lumley – completely adore, for reasons that became clear to me when I met Paul Clerehugh, chef proprietor.