The place is called Boisdale. No one in the room speaks with a Yankee accent except for me and my guest. This is why I travel. There is nothing familiar here except eccentricity. I haven't heard a cell phone ring since I arrived.
Patrons sit up straight and drink sherry for sport.
I chose Boisdale after two weeks of scouring through food reviews published on the Web. The research was exhausting. But, after a culinary misadventure in Montreal last year, I've given up on printed guidebooks. I was looking for humble restaurants with character and local vibe, but the books led me only to tourist traps. So, for London, I decided to try the Web.