RESTAURANTS

My feeling is that in Venice you need to seek out dishes, rather than places. Equally determined to avoid the withering looks and contempt of waiters serving menus turisticos, I wanted something the locals would eat. The insider knowledge.

Christmas is unusual for two reasons this year. First I’m not cooking. Secondly I am spending it with family. Both of which anyone who knows me will understand are uncharacteristic. But I am thrilled on both counts. Contrary to popular expectation, I love being cooked for.

A fried breakfast needs to pack a punch. Sufficient to see off bilious reflux and rising nausea. It should be a flavoursome, enriching ballast. A mix of soul food and blood strengthening fuel. Enough to see you through the newspapers, a Fred Astaire movie and induce afternoon slumber.

That’s the truth of Spain. Both food and people. The rub of patience and reserve against passion and resolve. For me, particularly Barcelona. It’s a hugely social, sexy city. Where overpowering flavours of the past mingle with the exuberance of youth.

Taking a walk along the estuary at West Mersea is rewarded by a delicious seafood lunch at The Company Shed.

For many of us oysters are either a symbol of arriviste affluence or naughty extravagance. Along with rhino horn, tiger penis and asparagus, oysters are said to have considerable aphrodisiac properties. After all, if nothing else, I suppose all that slurping would be enough to get you in the mood.

I have come to the conclusion that one never really knows when theatre is not good, only when it is brilliant. The same, I think, is true of restaurants.

An introduction to some paisos Catalan food prepared for a wedding banquet in Barcelona. Local dishes such as Escalivada, Xatonada with Romesco sauce, butifarra and faves.

Few dinners have reached my top ten. Well only ten. But there is a new contender. A must eat. One worth the food miles. Moo is the restaurant in in the svelte, low lit Hotel Omm, just off the Passeig de Gracia in Barcelona.

After the theatre in London, there’s nothing better than chewing the cud over supper. A bit of pocket analysis and critique and some wine.

The freshest fish lends itself perfectly, despite having to look hard to get a decent fish supper anywhere. For me, the best Fish and Chips experience in the world is Olley’s in Herne Hill.

aitre d’ Silvio Praino combines a restrained modernity with its elegant past. And the service reflects that nicely. Unobtrusive, well-informed and passionate about food, Silvio slips efficiently around the tables, deftly administering enthusiasm, knowledge and his staff in equal measures.

In the most unlikely corner of Vieux Nice at Oliviera, Nadim Beyrouti and his wife combine a passion for the oils of the region with the simplest ingredients.

The food at Arbutus is clever and simple. The attention and enthusiasm for their ingredients is impressive. It’s a broad and engaging menu and they also price it reasonably. Arbutus has deservedly become a West End mainstay.

Rouille is a provencal sauce comprising olive oil with breadcrumbs, garlic, saffron and chile peppers. A common accompaniment to fish soup and often served with a crouton and grated gruyere. It is something of a rare treat and I love it.

It’s easy to dismiss offal.I haven’t got a big repertoire. But I do like kidneys. Mounted on a couple of rounds of toasted brioche on your most beautiful plates, they are fit for a king’s birthday.