Look at the steam rising from this one (my friend says I have it in for the pigs this week)
Another year, another Taste of London in the rain. Must be something about festivals, that they require mud, wellies and waterproofs as proof of concept. There were snatches of sunshine too, though, and the park would become really warm. So the whole thing called for summer dress and slip-ons, spring jacket and cardigan, sunglasses, an umbrella, and an autumn knit rolled up in the back-pack. How to negotiate a food festival in a city centre park (if that city is London).
The Taste of London food and restaurant festival takes place in Regents Park every year. For four days, some of the capital's best restaurants (plus some others) set up temporary kitchens fronted by counters, which are then mobbed by greedy Londoners. Oh yes, the elbows were out today. My Singaporean training stood me in good stead for dealing with kiasus, though, and I weaved in and out like a Mazda on the ECP, finding my way to the front of the herd very quickly.
The front-of-house teams dealt with all of it very well, each in their own way. Asia de Cuba had a thumping stereo going, and the waiters had a little disco between the kitchen and their counter. Small paper plates somehow wound their way from the chef's hands to the customers', following the rhythm of a hip-hop beat. The Hart brothers' trio of Barrafina, Fino and Quo Vadis displayed discipline and focus, yet were as vibrant as their actual restaurants' kitchens. It was order that, to an outsider's eyes, could look deceptively like chaos.
