Despite all Ireland has to offer for evening diners, it cannot match the West End of London for choice, quality and value for money. Since coming to this great city, I've eaten enough rich and satisfying repasts to cause gout in all ten toes. The choices are as many as the quality is superb. No more ye Cuisine de France rolls with vacuum packed ham!

I could blame my sojourn in New Zealand for awakening this lust for delicious food where the quality of the produce was second to none. But the range of eating out options along with a glut of more than willing co-eaters here has been my downfall.

How can I tolerate conveyor belt sandwiches when temptation rears her ugly head before me no matter which street I take? Fondant au chocolat, proper Indian curries, bruschettas, rib-eye steak, pasta with chorizo sausage, Cumberland bangers and mash, goats cheese salad, noodles, pizza topped with portobello mushrooms, banoffee ice cream with caramel, and lamb shank have all found their way to my gut in the past two weeks alone! In short, I'm perilously close to becoming a fat bastard.

Did I mention the bangers and mash over here? Oooh.

Published by Colm.