the ever-resourceful mister sniffed out a star deal in the 'hood. well, i use 'hood liberally because we don't really stay as close to sloane square as we sometimes think we do. this was a lovely little sardinian place helmed by a chef as decorated as our milky way (ok, i exaggerate the number of stars he's collected over 30 years). we'd scrambled egg served in (not with!) shell and deconstructed tiramisu which had glorious bits of filo and creamy coffee ice cream. we'd some serious pasta mains that went down too fast to photograph and the pre-requisite glass (or two) of bubbles. because it's not really dinner without bubbles.
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