I love that first book as much for its symbolic nature: it marks the time I kept my first pigs and, after 17 years of meat-free existence, I wanted to honour the whole beast(s) not only through lack of waste but by making deliciousness the result of their extremely happy, long, loved lives.
I took my father to St.John Smithfield last July. He’d never been but had the misfortune of having to listen to me confessing my adoration of the establishment and Fergus and Trevor’s philosophy. We had the most wonderful lunch and a conversation with a young waiter much like that you describe. He had moved from Australia to London to work in St.John. The next day we went to Bread and wine with the intention of purchasing some Madeline’s but ended up sipping vesper martinis and Fergronis while an equally enthusiastic and delightful bartender suggested Eccles cakes while we waited for the Madeline’s. St John is perfection.
I went to St John in the early days and loved the idea of eating serious food in an unfinished art gallery. After a 25 year hiatus, I celebrated my 60th there. And was enchanted by it feeling and looking exactly the same. Good to know about the invisible Banksy.
Gotta love a Devo reference
I love that first book as much for its symbolic nature: it marks the time I kept my first pigs and, after 17 years of meat-free existence, I wanted to honour the whole beast(s) not only through lack of waste but by making deliciousness the result of their extremely happy, long, loved lives.
I took my father to St.John Smithfield last July. He’d never been but had the misfortune of having to listen to me confessing my adoration of the establishment and Fergus and Trevor’s philosophy. We had the most wonderful lunch and a conversation with a young waiter much like that you describe. He had moved from Australia to London to work in St.John. The next day we went to Bread and wine with the intention of purchasing some Madeline’s but ended up sipping vesper martinis and Fergronis while an equally enthusiastic and delightful bartender suggested Eccles cakes while we waited for the Madeline’s. St John is perfection.
Probably the biggest thing I miss about working in London is St John
I'm very happy to read the unpublishable stuff.
I went to St John in the early days and loved the idea of eating serious food in an unfinished art gallery. After a 25 year hiatus, I celebrated my 60th there. And was enchanted by it feeling and looking exactly the same. Good to know about the invisible Banksy.
And buying a hovel close to Kings Cross was a good move.
Thank you Tim for this lovely love letter to St John and reminding us of the bleak barren dining landscape time back then