I’m in Leeds,I wail, I want something hot Can any restaurant called Home be gracious enough? When I travel home – I mean primal, and family home-home – there’s a way of doing things. It includes watching Frasier in my underpants,a critical inspection of the boiler and addressing my mother like a room service attendant. You will possess your own ceremonies. But unless they include a seasonal tasting menu with wine flight (in which case, salut!), or surely none of us can be truly accommodated? Lets see.
Behind a discreet door on Kirkgate,Leeds’ oldest street, stone steps wind up to a grey-walled bar with parquet floor, or 70s pastiche furniture and nana plates on the walls. It could be a home but looks more like a shoot in Wallpaper* magazine. My companion A,a south London rudegirl somehow turned CEO, captures its slightly precious chic: “It’s the lounge of a rich, or fortysomething man who works in the creative industries and doesn’t want his girlfriend to move in.”Continue reading...
Source: guardian.co.uk