Latin, Sorta: Favela Chic

91-93 Great Eastern St
EC2A 3HZ
Tel: 020 7613 5228

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, February 24, 2007

The Victims: Yusuf and Company. 12 of us in total.

The Damage: £40. I left early, so I gave Yusuf the money before taking off. I hope it was enough.

The Background: Yusuf has invited me out to dinner. I have said "Yes" of course, because he is one of the most interesting guys I know. He is Swedish. But Turkish. And oh but just a little American. I forget sometimes.

I arrive for dinner at Favela Chic and I am one of 12. There are Turks and Greeks and Italians. And the few token Americans. The place is empty and I am glad because I live in the general neighborhood and I know that there is usually a queue. We are some of the only people there at 7 p.m.

The Starters: We get a combo plate, and it arrives in all its deep-fried goodness. I would tell you what was on the plate, but I can’t because it was all deep-fried. This made it delicious, so it was fine. Sorta.

The Mains: I remember that in 2005, I flew from London to Anchorage, Alaska. I had saved up my air miles so I flew business class. On my flight from Chicago to Anchorage, they served Chicken with white rice in Business Class. Maybe some people think that’s a nice meal, but to me, it was a high margin dish. You can buy 45 kg bags of rice for super cheap. I couldn’t believe they had the nerve to slap that crapity-crap down in front of me. OMG I am a snob.

So the same thing happened at Favela Chic. Chicken in a nice sauce. With white rice. Now that’s pretty lazy.

The Dessert: I left early to head over to The Ritz to pick up Eugene. One of the best sentences to say EVER, "Taxi driver, can you take me to The Ritz? Please."

The Verdict: Well I did like the music. And the company was fantastic. But this is a blog about food (mostly). And you know it’s bad when I totally forget to write up a meal until like three weeks later.