Now I know that I’m a greedy guts, but I outdid myself recently reviewing not one, but two restaurants in one evening. Q and I spent the weekend in London after the metaphorical blogging buses had came at once and I (and my stomach) were called to the Capital to check out some new food experiences to share with you.
How long does it take to achieve burger domination? 10 years, apparently.
It’s a term used as a badge of honour by restaurants. A suggestion that what you’ve been eating before you stepped through their doors was artificial, modified rubbish, Westernised for the masses.
It’s not until you get your legs out for the first time in the year that you realise just how very, very long you have endured gloomy British weather, huh? Yep, the reflective properties of my legs in the picture above say it all: I am absolutely due some sunshine.
I know that I don’t do badly for eating out regularly but honestly I wish I could do it even more. I’m one of those people who stares blankly when someone says they get sick of restaurants on holiday. (Why do so many people say that?)