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Digitalia

Digital Abstracts

By Steve Wilde

Happy Birthday Sam
November 19, 2009

Yesterday was Sam's birthday so it was champagne and Pastéis de Nata in bed for breakfast, with cards and presents. Then venturing out for a late lunch at Polpo in Beak Street.

What a lunch. The menu consists of cicheti and crostini, small Venetian equivalents of Tapas.
I'd booked a late lunch to ensure we were humgry, but it kind of backfired in as much as the kitchen was closing its lunch service at 3:00pm and all our food arrived together instead of spread over, well, however long it takes. Meaning a] It barely fitted on the table and b] We had to eat it pretty quick before it got cold. Still, we'll know better next time. We'll also know not to eat for a couple of days beforehand as well. They may be small plates but it was very filling. We ordered...

Grilled bread with olive oil
Chopped chicken liver
Potato & Parmesan crocchetta
Pork belly, radicchio, hazelnuts
Slow roast duck, green peppercorns, black olives, tomatoes
Spinach, chilli, garlic
Grilled zucchini
Polpette
Braciola [I have to verify what this was as I think it was cured meat rather than lightly fried - Carpaccio like but not raw anyway, but served on rocket with parmesan].

Somehow, after quite a break, finishing our bottle of Primitivo, Fiori 2008 [from Puglia?], we squeezed in a shared plate of Pear and Gorgonzola. All for £68.00 including service [which was good and no one batted an eyelid when Sam knocked a glass of wine over... me, mostly!]

It was all excellent and a very pleasant change.

After a machiato and an espresso I had dried off enough to head to Selfridges and surprisingly there was no staining or smell from the spilt wine. I thought I might have to nip home or buy new clothes before the theatre later on. But I decided I'd be OK and lurked in Gordon's Bar while Sam shopped.

Next we trotted down to the Haymarket for Breakfast At Tiffany's at the Theatre Royal. This adaptation is closer to Truman Capote's novella than the film ever was but the exclusion, in the film, of the scenes in the bar was probably a good idea. They made it all seem a bit disjointed but it was very good nontheless, even without the Hollywod ending.

You certainly couldn't fault Anna Friel as Holly Golightly. I was hugely surprised; the Southern twang, the guitar playing, the singing, getting her kit off! working with a real live [albeit suspiciously docile] cat. I've read some awful reviews of this but they are pretty wide of the mark. Overall the performances were good although all were outshone by Friel. I wasn't so sure about the stage set, which seemed to be permanently on the move to little effect. I just wish I knew what the songs that Holly sung were. I though I recognised the first one, but it may just have been derivative of something else. Were they Kurt Weill? Cole Porter? or from Oklahoma, as in the book? There was certainly no Moon River.

When we came out we were surprised to find ourselves in Algiers! Or so it seemed. Thousands of Algerian football fans had descended on Piccadilly and Trafalgar Square tocelebrate qualifying for the World Cup. They weren't any trouble, just hanging out cars, blaring horns, waving flags, chanting and setting off flares. Odd!

To round off the evening we popped into Freggo for ice cream.

Categories: Music, London, Books, Food & Drink, Film, Theatre

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