The Prudent Gentleman: Pork buns

As any gentleman knows, when heading into town it is sensible to line ones stomach against the perils of the evening.  While not eating can lead to a cheap night, more often than not this is because it is short, unpleasant, and involving a gutter somewhere.  But the troublesome question is often deciding where you should sate your stomach before you slake your thirst.

One of my favourite fast options lies in Chinatown.  Not one of the fancy restaurants - this is a stall occupying a sliver of land outside a grocers on Newport Court (close to Leicester Square station).  Two steaming cabinets stand either side of the stallholder, offering a selection of treats, including oyster pancakes, tea eggs and the like.  But what we're here for is a steamed bun.  Known in the Orient as baozi, these delicacies originate from China.  They are one of my favourite snacks when heading into town for some light Bacchian debauchery, and a very prudent choice at that.

Noms and the City: Balfour - a damn fine brunch

It seems to me, my best beloved, that the mark of a civilised society is brunch. I cannot understand breakfast – it’s too early in the morning, and I’m not hungry, no matter what I have got up to the night before. No. It takes me a good couple of hours to want to eat, and when I do, I would infinitely prefer to partake of something savoury and nomsome that can get me through until afternoon tea, possibly via some sort of luncheon on the way.

I am supremely fortunate in my life that I am surrounded by like-minded folk, and so when I took my last-but-one jaunt down to the capitol and was met off the train by my beloved nephew, Julian, it seemed only right and proper that we wander the streets round Euston until we found a suitable venue for brunch.

It took a small while. We were distracted by the Black Books bookshop, and briefly considered a little café I had eaten at before until we discounted it for being too crowded. We stumbled on, lost in a haze of enjoyment at each other’s company and the promise of the weekend ahead, until we found Balfour on Marchmont Street.