Kevin L.'s Profile

Me: It was only £6.50 for ten inches! So affordable... and it only took about ten minutes.
Elliot: Whoa, whoa... I joined this conversation at the wrong time...
Me: Errr... I was talking about getting my kitchen knives sharpened. Perv.

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Incredibly affordable cost-per-inch of sleek, sexy steel is only one facet of the brilliance of The Japanese Knife Company.

I wonder if this might be their flagship store (of three or four outlets), as it's notably larger than the Soho location. Similar to its sister shop, stunningly beautiful cutting implements are displayed in prominent glass cases, and it's the first time I've seen their attention-grabbing magnetic wood knife blocks in person.

Whether you just need the aid of a proper whetstone for a blunted edge or you're looking to make a serious investment in some new kitchen equipment, a visit here is likely to make you crave a utensil upgrade in your life!

I had such high hopes for my lunch from The Natural Kitchen when I picked up the cardboard takeaway box and it weighed roughly the heft of brick. The thought of that much mass going down my gut had me salivating.

Then I actually tucked into my spinach Greek pie, Greek salad, and lentil salad and realised I was sorely mistaken.

Honestly, I'm not sure how it's even -possible- to make a Greek salad so tasteless. Typically, cucumbers have a refreshing zest to them, olives add a briny counterbalance to the dulcet tomatoes, and fatty pungent feta rounds out the smorgasbord of flavours. Though the textures were all spot on, this was readily the most bland Greek salad I can ever remember consuming.

Similarly, the lentil salad was perfectly textured; if legumes can be qualified as al dente, these would be the epitome of al dente-ness. Sadly, that's about all I can say in their favour. Again, I might as well have been eating lentil-shaped cardboard for all the taste sensation I could detect. I've never wanted some bright olive oil and sharp balsamic so badly.

The spinach pie was nominally better. At least it tasted like -something- as opposed to -nothing-. It was honestly a relief from the humdrum of the rest of my meal.

If I was a total health nut, I'd probably be all over this stuff, but I actually enjoy eating tasty food, even if that means it has unnecessary calories attached to it. Though the value of a takeaway lunch here is grand, I wouldn't spring at an opportunity to dine from here again.

My immediate thought upon stepping in here, famished, a bit sleepy, and coming down off a caffeine high was, 'Gee. This looks like any number of New York cafés. Cosy (read: tiny) space, tight seating, brief menu, and a queue out the door. The one major difference was that instead of some young, pretty starving actress to greet you with a dazzling smile and a warm hello, we were barely acknowledged at all.

As long as you can get over the brusque, cold demeanour of the employees, the food's actually quite lovely. My eggs benedict closely resembled what I'm used to, except with streaky bacon subbed in where Canadian (back) bacon would typically be. Otherwise, some perfectly poached eggs nestled themselves atop a stack of meat and bread, and were themselves doused in delightfully fatty Hollandaise with a sprig of parsley.

For the price, it was a gustatory satisfying meal - an unusual treat for a Dublin eatery. Plus, we managed to get in and out in about half an hour, so whoever's cracking the whip in the back-of-house is doing fine work.

As long as you don't expect service with a smile, you're sure to enjoy a Sunday brunch here too!

Wow, what an unexpected gem of a hotel in Dublin! When I was priced out of old favourites like The Dylan and The Morrison, I was sceptical at best about the odds of The Fitzwilliam being on par. I really needn't have worried.

Located directly across from St. Stephen's Green and just a moment's walk away from all the high street shopping and dining to be found on Grafton Street, I found the setting both convenient to the heart of the city, yet distant enough to offer respite from the hordes of Temple Bar.

I detected a distinct Eastern European accent from many of the ladies at reception during the check-in process, but the lady that sorted me out was polite, efficient, and employed completely understandable English. In addition to getting me set up with a room key and all, she personally walked me to the lift to give me detailed instructions (including the number of steps I'd have to climb) to my room.

In addition to a lovely bed with a view directly into the windows of the hotel(?) directly across the way, wi-fi is provided complimentary, along with your choice of still or sparkling water from the mini-bar.

I mean... FREE bottled water. Can we appreciate this fact for just a moment? How often does -that- happen these days at hotels?!

To top it all off, hot breakfast was included. If you know me, you know that it's my second favourite meal of the day. I don't function well without having some sustenance in the morning and this was for real. Sausage, bacon, eggs (which were sadly out), black and white puddings, a whole selection of continental breakfast items, and a wide variety of canned/fresh fruit were all on display. The French press coffee that a lovely server provided was just what I needed to wash it all down.

I have to admit that for paying significantly less than those other highly rated hotels in Dublin's city centre, I feel like I came out way -way- ahead this time!

Deli West One is like a little slice of Brooklyn in the heart of the most soulless, characterless hub of London. Surrounded by a morass of chains, this little one-counter, dozen-seater dining establishment tucks itself away on a side street just off Baker.

I think the most notable elements of my experience here were (in no particular order): an obvious mezuzah angled appropriately on the door jamb outside; a slight, willowy youth wearing a yarmulke behind the counter; a fellow with a distinctly North American accent throwing together dishes; and the unmistakeable iPad operating as a till.

Beyond that, the friendly service and mouthwateringly satisfying salt beef sandwich on fragrant caraway-seeded rye served to fulfill my luncheon needs. The extra tub of ultra spicy mustard on the side ended up getting put to good use, too.

Whilst I can't say that £8.50 for a sandwich and a pickle (chilli, no less) was affordable by any means, I don't know that you're likely to find a more cost-effective means of satiating your noontime hunger in Marylebone for much less, anyhow.

Let me preface this rousing five-star review with some background: I have a wholesome respect for dental health. Having grown up with a variety of tooth abnormalities (late adult teeth, braces, missing bottom front tooth, root canals, etc.), I've developed a love/hate relationship with dental care providers and needles anywhere near my face.

Yet, when my stellar dentist, Dr. Urtula at Emagen Dental, (yep, the one I take transatlantic flights to go see) recommends that I get my incoming wisdom tooth removed by a particular oral surgeon, I don't question - I simply execute.

I needn't have worried anyhow. Dr. Fay was all things exceptional in someone who's going to slice you open: warm, personable, direct, and proficient. From the moment I sat down in that plush never-want-to-get-up-again consultation chair to the moment I walked out of her practice, I felt absolutely no hesitation.

The operation itself was so fast that I was bewildered when it was over. One moment, I'm waiting for the local anaesthetic to kick in, the next I'm being told that I'll feel some pushing, and a minute after that, she was putting in stitches. I was still trying to wrap my brain around what point the tooth itself actually came out!

In addition to Tribeca OMFS following up with me, I got a quick note from my dentist to make sure the operation went well. Knowing how finicky my teeth can be, I'm grateful to know that whether or not it's hygiene- and maintenance-related or requires more serious interventions, I'm in good hands all around.

Free, somewhat decent wi-fi with your purchase of an utterly respectable coffee (or tea... given we -are- in England), extremely ample seating on the ground level and in the basement, and a menu of café eats that I didn't have the fortune of trying. What more could one want from a local coffee shop?

Tack on the extremely accessible location just a few minutes' walk from New Street Station and some truly friendly folk behind the counter and Coffee Lounge simply shouts 'work from here, you laptop-toting caffeine addict!'.

I have to admit... I'm feeling anxiety over not falling head over heels for Rudy's Revenge like everyone else has. Did I do something wrong?

I strode in on a weeknight just prior to 2100 and had to inquire whether or not the bar was open - it was dead in here. Well, not literally... but for the entire duration of my visit, I was the sole customer.

Now, normally... at a cocktail bar, this would be a fine thing. I can think of any number of great cocktail bars around the world where I'd be the happiest of clams to be the only drinker seated at a bar, being regaled by cocktail lore and tossing back sinful spirits.

Unfortunately... it's really challenging to enjoy the conversation when your bartender has to ask you to repeat yourself two or three times because his English isn't so great. When you have to rephrase yourself in simpler and simpler speech to be understood, the mental exhaustion of translating normal language into painfully basic language becomes a chore. I'm all for chatting with foreigners, but I don't get a thrill out of playing English practice bait when at the bar.

On the other hand, I quite liked my unconventional Old Fashioned - a recommendation by the bartender (and what I was eyeing anyhow). Mysteriously, it's on the classic cocktails menu... even though this version was questionably classic: maraschino liqueur makes an appearance and the typically muddled cherry and orange never showed up. My finished concoction was garnished instead with a bright red canned and pitted cherry with a twist.

All this likely took a solid ten minutes of preparation. For one drink. I love a carefully crafted cocktail like the next booze hound, but that's bordering on excessive, even for me. There wasn't even the excuse of a packed house of patrons to queue up ahead of me!

I did appreciate that the ample serving of ice in my glass was beautiful and cubed. And likely furnished by Eskimo. So there's that, at least...

I should come up to Brum for Chinese food more often. This stuff gives London's Chinatown a run for its money!

Ken Ho reminds me a lot of the Chinese restaurants my family used to go to when we lived in suburban Ohio. Options were limited, but the places that we frequented (all two or three that I can recall) shared common attributes: big open rooms with lots of tables, table linens, polite and bustling staff, and reliably decent food. This place fit that mould.

I do wish I could properly read Chinese characters instead of picking out a recognisable one here and there - I was offered three different menus upon being seated: a tri-fold with English words, one with both English and Chinese and a lot of pretty pictures of dishes, and one entirely written in Chinese that was sadly unintelligible to me. I really want to know if there are secret dishes on the third one that I would have liked to order!

Regardless, my beef ho fun was as authentic as I've had in recent recollection, and although the dou miu were tougher than I'd hoped, considering my server reported that they were quite fresh, they were cooked as expected - simply sautéed with some garlic (suan rong). And at first, I thought the prices were pretty comparable to London's until the dishes came out: the portions were massive. I was only able to make it through about a third of each dish before having to give up and box the rest up for takeaway.

If you're in the market for some traditional oriental cuisine in a casual setting, you can't go wrong with Ken Ho. If I lived in Brum, I'd be here on the regular, for sure.

Bachelor(ette) Evening of Befuddlement Stop #3

We ended up at Ruby Room after a sumptuous dinner nearby at R Gang, a failed experiment at Rich's, and many many drinks between the lot of about sixteen people. So it was with an already booze-soaked brain that I ignored the sketchy man with the thin handlebar moustache, dropped a $20 for half our party's cover*, and walked into this dingy, dirty den of debauchery.

I pretty much knew that we were home upon seeing Halo on the old-school pre-plasma/LCD TV, the two not-so-janky coin operated pool tables, a handful of arcade fighting games, and an extremely eclectic crowd watching the live electronica performance on stage. I mean... how often does that confluence of elements exist in one space?

Throw in a guy deeply absorbed on his computer rendering creepy 3D simulated models of bar patrons for an affordable $5 ($20 if you want a print) and diminutive lesbians making out whilst a low-key hen/stag do is going on simultaneously?

Though we came for the cheap drinks, I can't say that I found the prices on shots and cocktails to be jaw-dropping. Reasonable, sure. Affordable, not so much. Still, the bartenders were friendly and at least one knew how to pour chocolate cake shots. $100 was plenty to ensure that both bride, groom, and man of honour were well-saturated with ethanol, and that the morning after would be memorable.

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* The (unconvincing) bouncer offered us a 'deal' for 'just' $5 a head to get in. I informed him that we were fourteen with two joining us later. Total cost: $40. At 16 people, I'm a bit unclear on how he worked the maths out. At least I'm glad it went in our favour!