Arbutus

Arbutus 63-64 Frith St, London W1D 3JW, United Kingdom. Expensive $$$. Arbutus restaurant is not exactly what I would classify as a hangout. It's more of a once in a lifetime dining experience for common people like me. On this typical London day of intermittent mist, the restaurant is just a few blocks walk from the Tube station near Tottenham Court. At around 11:30 am we we're the first patrons of the day and we were rewarded with a window table overlooking the narrow cobblestone street. I can imagine a Hugh Grant romantic comedy movie being filmed here.

The appetizer was soft poached egg / asparagus / Parmesan cream and salad of sliced duck, washed down with a carafe of house red wine. The white plates were gleamingly clean and so was the colorful presentation of greens, yellows and reds subliminally suggesting you to eat, pause, stop, then go again like a traffic signal.

By this time, the lunch crowd had begun to arrive with two rows of tables filling in from the front window to the the back of the restaurant. Many of the guests were wearing business attire in what I can only assume to be a business luncheon. The other diners all looked comfortable like they've been here before. I think it was obvious we were visitors but very much welcomed. I'm still astounded that I am actually in London.

The main entree of cod fillet / chicken wing / peas / corn / Scottish beef / and beetroot arrives. I tasted the beetroot but it was the only food I didn't finish. I didn't have a taste for it plus I wanted to save room for dessert.

By the time we finished our dessert of chocolate fondant / Caramel ice cream / Panna cotta of woodruff / mango / raspberries, it was hard to believe we had already been here for two hours. My companion for the afternoon, Kylie, I had met in Jamaica a year earlier along with her mum Lynne and sister Sophie. The three of them had adopted me into their family while I was in Jamaica for four nights.

Arbutus restaurant is worthy of the dining experience if you can budget it in. Eat heartily or "tuck-in" as the Brits would say.