’16 Euros to cross a bloody bridge?’ I shouted incredulously at the mec manning the toll booth as he gazed back impassively. No doubt the sight of a middle-aged Englishman having an apoplexy over the entrance fee to the Île de Ré was becoming rather familiar to him. He shrugged Gallicly. It wasn’t his fault that this time last year 16 Euros was equivalent to about £10 while now it was almost exactly £16.

As the name suggests, Semplice is about (meticulous) simplicity. A generous starter of fat pappardelle was glossily spun with racing green baby spinach and earthy, springy chicken livers. Such an unequivocally peasant Italian effort ironically came from head chef Marco Torri’s Japanese sous chef. Despite their lobster plates, it warranted envious looks from my à la carte friends.

‘The Saltoun Supper Club’ takes place each week at Arno’s home in Brixton, converted into a prop for pleasure dining. The décor bears testament to an artists eye – a nude of a tall, girlie figure by Tracey Emin clings, arms by sides, to the hall wall; on the stairs, a moneybox by Gilbert & George invites financial fuel with the words, ‘pay up and f*** off’.

There’s a nagging aura about Momo of the popularity tide having gone out and everyone waiting for it to come back in again, but with the Heddon Street area now finally free of cars and incessant road digging the whole square has a buzz about it once more and Momo is well placed to be back on the A list.

The bistro is situated in a passage, the entrance to which is to the right of Jesse’s butcher’s shop. It has a rustic feel, and the kitchen is visible from the main restaurant area. Overall, it was a reasonable meal, but the lack of interest and customer focus from the chef left a sour taste.

Situated above a grocery store/delicatessen of the same name, you enter the restaurant through the shop. The restaurant itself is a small informal space with some five tables and a counter at which we sat, where you look onto the chefs at work – it almost feels like you are in the kitchen itself. This is certainly a destination restaurant if you are in the Cotswolds.

Catching jasmine scents beside a stream, I sipped a thick malty milkshake from a narrow straw, which thoughtfully slowed the flow. Organic flour is ground upstream between French Burr stones. These contain quartz crystals meaning sharp grinding edges which won’t chip into the flour. With every tinkle of the service bell, hungry anticipation grew.

The Old Crown in New Oxford Street is one of the older buildings. It probably wasn’t designed to be a pub, perhaps originally a shop, and it is in estate-agent parlance ‘bijou’. That means small. In the summer, though it has floor to ceiling windows that open wide, a corner location and tables outside that look like they were made from old railway sleepers or similar. Chunky chic.

Take a short walk from the Earls Court Exhibition Centre and you are spoilt for culinary choice. However, Seasoning Restaurant & Lounge stands out with its clean and simple decor of funky perspex chairs, white walls and contemporary Indian music.

Expecting ‘Pea’ and mint soup, my father looked startled when he received almost bare crockery (albeit by Thomas Keller). He soon relaxed when this was flooded at table with chilled, softly textured liquid that captured the verdant spirit of an English garden. It came with a crusted tuille of polenta and fresh, yielding Parmesan custard, served separately. Inspired and invigorating