Someone somewhere at sometime decided to adjoin a phenomenal authentic Thai restaurant with a classic English pub. I want to shake that someone's hand.
The pub/restaurant is the Churchill Arms located in London's posh Notting Hill. As I sit here now, sleepily allowing my food coma to abate, I reflect on the sublime combination of spicy Thai, Winston Churchill memorabilia, and refreshing Albarino. All this following five hours without food. I lift the bottle of Pol Roget - Churchill's favorite Champagne - perched on a shelf next to me. It is empty. I don't know what I was expecting, but I don't care either way. Right now I am reflecting.
This euphoric condition began with nothing more than toast, marmalade, and musli about 300 miles northeast of London. As the drive back to London came to a close, the hunger set in. The perfect answer turned out to be pad ga praw (one order of chicken, one of beef); kaeng kiew waan, or green curry (chicken); and the classic pad Thai. With shrimp. Spring rolls kicked off the feast, which was enjoyed by no more people than my tiny girlfriend and myself. Halfway through the feast, two words escaped my mouth: goodness gracious.
I just experienced total satisfaction in a pub.