ilili

ilili

While mooching around the fine island-thing that is Manhattan, one must sample the seafood or one really is a loser.

Enter ilili, 236 Fifth Ave.

Love! A fabulously exclusive Lebanese restaurant (what, you didn’t book weeks ago? You mustn’t have any friends this side of the pond darling). A little darker than I like for a restaurant but phew, the tables are lit well enough for you to see what you’re eating and oh my god, The Bar. Is. Incredible. Only downside (perhaps) is that it is a little touristy but so what, I’m not going to diss the tourists when I’m one myself.

Posh and pricey, yet once again lacks any sign of pretentious people. Is it just me, but New Yorkers are just fab and not up themselves. Or is that we have English accents so no-one can out-toss us on the tosser stakes?

I digress. Our waiter was so fabulous, he didn’t bat an eyelash when asked to chop the head and tail off my fish. Hey, I love eating fish but I don’t need to look at his face or eat his bum (I wouldn’t eat a lady fish so its a “he”). We were recommended cocktails to suit our palate and in between we knocked back the crisp prosecco. Delightful.

Ole Fatty McPunjabi here even ordered Portugese donuts with creme anglais which was basically donuts holes with custard. They were lush and I left very happily with a fine sugary moustache on my upper lip.

Highly recommended!

Bunty

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