Senor Ceviche, Theatre 503, party music and awful striking similarities.

25 Jan

EAT: Kingly Court on Carnaby Street used to be known for its thrift stores but now it’s a foodie haven. Rum Kitchen (great), Whyte and Brown (good), Stax Diner (ok)… the list goes on. But one of the newer additions is Senor Ceviche.

Senor Ceviche is a mid-range Peruvian restaurant, full of colour and noise. So far, so good. The food, too, is pleasing – I’ve been there to eat twice, both times I didn’t pay (once it was on the house during their opening week, the second time I went with work). So, I’ve eaten a lot of the dishes… because I wasn’t paying.

And thank goodness I didn’t pay, because the food, at times, is fine, but certainly not worth the price. The worst thing about Senor Ceviche is the staff. They are SO disorganised: slow, rude and clearly determined to ensure they never get tipped.  I ordered a cocktail and a glass of wine, for example. The cocktail took ten minutes to arrive. I waited another ten minutes before asking where my wine was. They said ‘it was being poured’. Very, very slowly apparently.

Senor-Ceviche-Food The first time I went we booked a table for lunch and had a three course meal. They took forever getting the food out to us, and it was time for us to leave and, y’know, go back to work, when they bothered bringing out the dessert. It’s lunchtime. In Soho. They had to have realised their customers were going to be on lunch breaks – even when I asked for them to be quicker, they still took forever to do anything. Nightmare.

The second time I went we told the waitress we had an extra person with us. She said that was fine, they could accommodate. Half an hour later he had no food and the manager of the sodding place coming out and accusing us of not having told them we had an extra person. They caved and served him the Christmas dinner (yup, it was Christmas time) but clearly didn’t believe us.

Unfortunately, their service is so bad I haven’t even had a chance to talk about their food yet. The food is good. Overpriced, but good. The cocktails are also good, but smaller than you’ll be expecting. (£8 for the Pisco Sour above). The pork belly is delicious but VERY fatty. The chips are ok. The brownie dessert is, I admit, beauuutiful. But due to their slow service and forgetful staff I tend to avoid the place these days. I advise you do too, unless you have a lot of time and money to burn.

SEE: I don’t go to the theatre half as much as I should. But Theatre 503 gives me no excuse when it comes to not seeing stuff on stage. It’s based above the LAtchmere Pub in Battersea, and on Sundays you can pay whatever you want to see a performance. Or, if you live in SW11, you get big discounts on tickets.

The Latchmere pub has recently had a refurb and it’s a nice place to grab a drink before heading upstairs to the show. The theatre is small, about 100 seats perhaps, but no matter where you sit, you can see and hear.

I went a few months ago to see a show which had done the rounds at the Edinburgh Fringe, a coming of age story told very much from a (realistic) female perspective. It was wonderful. The staging was simple, but well done considering the space they had. It was unapologetic, full of energy and I really want to go back. They shows there don’t usually get long runs, but keep checking the website (here) and definitely give Theatre 503 a try.

LISTEN: “Promise me one thing. Don’t take me home until I’m drunk”
The kind of music I wish they played at bars and parties:

LOVE (or, life, I suppose):A lot of things frustrate me. Mainly: me. Quite a few of my friendships started with us hating each other (yet to turn into a When Harry Met Sally situation, calm down, this doesn’t end in romance). And this is due to the fact that they reminded me of me.

I am horribly difficult. I have exceptionally high standards and I quickly judge people who don’t meet them, all the while knowing it’s completely unfair.  I always go with my gut but hate my gut reactions. On the one hand I believe that  I should be allowed to be as crude and confrontational as I like, but on the other I hate it when people are like that. I’m loud. Gobby. But I always dislike people who are loud and gobby. I like to be right, so I tend to cut people short to throw in my point of view. I’ve never really known why I do it, but I do.

The point I’m making is that when I meet someone like me I usually dislike them. It’s happened with a few people who I now consider very good friends. After about 6 months of thinking they’re a total dick, I realise that we have all this stuff in common and then we get on. It’s probably because if I met me I’d really hate me, hence why I hate people who are like me.

How fucked is that, eh? Not that I’m going to seek professional help as a result of this realisation, but it’s interesting now that I’ve realised it. I usually have these realisations, make a promise to be less of a silly person and then realise it’s futile because whoever you are at aged 21 is who you’re going to be forever.


And that, my friends, is that.


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