St. John

by krista on October 30, 2001

Badass Britannia. Or something like that. Stark, traditional, and
consequently radical. I asked for something spendy, moderately trendy and
decidedly un-New York, and I got it. Somehow I don't feel right detailing it
with flourish.

Chitterlings, faggots, rarebit, treacle, bone marrow, eel…potted pigs
head–it is "Nose
to Tail Eating" after all. While reveling in little morsels of rabbit
offal on toast, James was freaking over what he perceived to be a table of
nazis. Yes, they were German, creepily Aryan and did seem to relish the odd
bits of meat, but that doesn't necessarily mean there's a secret after hours
club for dining on human flesh. Though that would add an interesting
dimension to the establishment.

St. John * 26 St. John
Street, EC1, London, England