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New Moon is nothing if not an international advertisement for the hungry virtues of virginity and young people can’t get enough of it
The Twilight Saga: New Moon
Theatre
A smart, prickly and rewarding view of sexual and emotional confusion
Cock
Restaurants
Kitchen W8 is a bargain for this area, if such sophistication is what you crave
Kitchen W8
Too long and drawn out but very entertaining with excellent special effects
This is a peculiar play and does not work for me. Some of it is very funny but there are real flaws
Alex has a strong powerful voice and was faultless, she is far better now than she was on the X-Factor
London,
Critic rating
Reader rating
Description: Fans "love the vibe", but critics just scratch their heads at the "weird", "'70s airport lounge" interior of this Theatreland newcomer; its Mediterranean food inspires mixed feelings too -- can the place ever hope to live up to the "über-maestro" reputation of its backers Corbin and King (who also run the Wolseley)?
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Service: 
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Phone: 020 7499 8558
Website: http://www.stalban.net
Open: Mon - Sat 12pm - 3pm & 5:30pm - Midnight
Sun 12pm - 3pm & 5:30pm - 11pm
Dress code: Smart / Casual
Good for: Business, Good food, Ambience.
Payment options: All major cards accepted
Hot dish: Maître d' Byron Lang has worked at St Alban since its opening
It was one of those Wizard of Oz moments. The streets were grey and so was the general mood, with the country dipping and diving towards financial oblivion. I was meeting the romantic novelist and one of my favourite journalists for lunch at St Alban, a place that is not easy to find. Try asking someone if they've been there and they will start telling you it's much too far out of town. But no, this is not the pretty Hertfordshire city but St Alban, the restaurant (with no 's' on the end).
Its discreet and unshowy exterior means you could easily pass it by (as the novelist did several times). But appearances can be deceptive; step inside and the place instantly springs to life in colour, a fantasy feast for the eyes. Curving edges and paintbox colours draw you into the exceptionally large room where disc-like and muted ceiling lights give a futuristic feel. Oz rediscovered. There are alternating turquoise and red banquettes and the tables are so low that they make you feel quite little. The journalist, I shall call him PM (oh, that he were), commented that all successful restaurants seem to have a feel of the nursery about them.
And there's no doubt that St Alban epitomises success - you can feel it as soon as you walk in. The comfortable buzz of quiet power. The sense of wealth in its unshowiest guise and the unmistakable aura of influence. It has the flavour of the best places I've visited in New York, until I reminded myself that London is a luminary in her own right.
Staff glided round us (other restaurants please take note, they managed to be unobtrusive yet charming), offering fragrant breads and two types of fizzy water. As an aperitif, PM chose whisky, making me wonder why this fiery Scottish drink is currently so unfashionable: does anyone know? My own Bloody Mary was perfectly made and the novelist proclaimed her Virgin variety to be as heavenly as a celestial choir --although she wished there had been a piece of celery with which to stir it.
Since the journalist had recently left a high-powered editorial meeting, we asked what was the latest state of play in the teetering world of finance. He gave the rueful look of a fairground clairvoyant who's finally decided to come clean. 'Nobody has a clue,' he admitted, reaching for a breadstick (presumably not to beat himself with).
On to the food. Starters are as robust as a school matron. I chose handcarved pata negra ham, which was fanned over my plate like rosy little petals. PM's deep-fried softshell crab made him moan with pleasure, reminding him of far-off days spent in Maryland. Messily (it was almost embarrassing), the novelist ate wood-baked harissa prawns with her fingers, managing to turn the napkin a luminous orange colour, causing a waiter, unasked, to diplomatically hand her another. I gently pointed out that the knife and fork were there for a purpose.
In an effort to maintain my sylph-like figure, I ordered another starter instead of a main course.
The salad of cured salmon and avocado was delicious and prettily presented, but I started suffering from food envy as soon as I saw proper main courses chosen by my guests. The novelist said her seared scallops were as meltingly soft as one of her heroine's hearts, while the journalist's paella was a glossy heap of saffron-hued rice studded with all manner of plump crustaceans. We drank wine by the glass --even the glasses are interestingat St Alban - a Pinot Noir from the north of Italy that was described as a light, lunchtime red. Indeed it was; it proved a splendid accompaniment to some wonderful gossip. Journalists suffer a terrible reputation on a par with estate agents or politicians, but I must say I've always found most of them to be the most entertaining of companions.
We men professed ourselves too full for pudding, but the novelist called our bluff by inviting us to share her bitter chocolate tart with milk ice cream, a move she probably later regretted since we complied with gusto. It was served with a certain solemnity, along with three plates, and it didn't taste in the least bit bitter to me. In fact, it was as unashamedly rich and decadent as Richard Fuld, the disgraced ex-head of Lehman Brothers.
Coffee was served with an accompanying bowl of sweet little macaroons, wrapped in a drift of bright tissue paper, making us think that Christmas had come early. We left feeling warm and replete, reflecting that owners Jeremy King and Chris Corbin's talent for creating superb restaurants has echoes of the cathedral at St Albans. Monumental.
Details are correct at the time of publication - please check with venue before booking.
We had pre theatre dinner there a few weeks ago.Wonderful place to eat.Staff 1st class,food fantastic the best belly pork ever.And the staff and environment was spotlessly clean.I am so looking forward to a return visit.Congratulations a true hit for the west end
- Selwyn Channon, epsom
