I don't know about you, but the concept of a 'vegetarian restaurant' brings to mind a certain set of expectations, not all of them good. I suppose it's because traditionally, vegetarian food has been, at best, just 'normal' restaurant food with the meat either taken out, or replaced by meat substitutes such as Quorn or tofu or certain types of mushroom. Sometimes, admittedly, this approach does work - the Shake Shack 'Shroom burger is just their normal cheeseburger with the beef replaced with a breaded, fried portobello mushroom, but it works remarkably well. But too often you're presented with things like meat-less lasagna or a French Onion soup made without beef stock, and the main result is that you just wish you were eating the real thing. Attention to detail is everywhere, not least the drinks list which is courtesy of A Bar With Shapes For A Name, one of the most exciting cocktail bars in town and currently riding high in the World's 50 Best Bars list. This is a dill-infused martini which by virtue of the fact it's come straight out of a frozen premade bottle was icy cold, pure and clean and simply enjoyable. House pickles are as good as you might hope to expect from chef Daniel Watkins, who at Acme (his previous gaff) had filled the place with giant jars and tubs of fermenting and pickling who-knows-what to keep his menu full of the stuff year-round. So yes they were all good, but we particularly enjoyed the green beans which had a lovely sweet touch, and daikon because, well, I always like pickled daikon. Koji bread was a lovely fluffy bun, sort of like a risen flatbread, golden and bubbly on the outside and glossed with butter. This would have been worth an order by itself, and indeed that is an option, but really you'd be an idiot not to go for the version with "smoked mushroom chili ragu", a concoction so ludicrously moreish it probably should come with some kind of government advisory addiction warning. I'm not the first person to swoon over this dish, and I certainly won't be the last, but do believe the hype - it justifies the journey to Notting Hill by itself. Stracciatella came under a pile of endives and other bitter leaves, dressed in the Thai dipping sauce Nahm Jim. Perfectly nice, but I think we were mourning the loss of the mushroom ragu at this point, so it had a lot to live up to. Coal roast leeks, though, bowled us over all over again. Leeks have a marvellous way of holding the flavour of charcoal smoke, and enhanced with judicious use of green leek(?) oil and a kind of almond hummus, they were a great demonstration of everything that makes Watkins' cooking so exciting. Not to mention beautiful, teased as they were into a neat geometric block and dotted with yellow blobs of aji chilli. Celeriac schnitzel was a greaseless puck of breadcrumbed, fried celeriac which had a nice earthy flavour and robust texture. On top, more excellent pickles and micro herbs, as tasty as they were colourful, and underneath their version of a katsu sauce, packed full of curry flavour and a perfect foil for the celeriac. Finally from the savoury courses, a giant skewer of oyster mushrooms, with lovely crispy bits from the grill and soft and meaty (I'm sure they won't mind too much me saying) inside. The mole sauce underneath was rich and glossy and complex, a beautiful match with the grilled shrooms, and the provided (though not pictured, sorry) almond tacos were soft and buttery and held firm even when soaked in gorgeous mole sauce. Dessert consisted of a pear, simply poached perhaps in syrup or some kind of dessert wine, and a bowl of frilly soft-serve ice cream. I can also see a bowl groaning with 3 scoops of ice cream in my picture, but can't for the life of me remember where this came in the equation. I'm pretty sure I'm on safe ground telling you they were very nice, though. So all-in-all, there's not many reasons not to love Holy Carrot. Don't think of it as a vegetarian restaurant, if that's likely to put you off - think of it instead as a great neighbourhood restaurant that puts interesting, seasonal vegetables center stage and uses a bewildering variety of techniques to make the very best of them. It's not "good for meat-free", it's just plain old good. And that should make everyone happy. We were invited to Holy Carrot and didn't see a bill.

I'm a firm believer that if you wait long enough a lot of expensive places can eventually be visited for free. So it is with the London Wetland Centre, indeed all WWT reserves, which are offering free entry this week to celebrate World Wetlands Day. I last visited in 2006 when admission was also free, saving £6.75, and this year I've saved considerably more by flashing a barcode in a complimentary email. Venue: London Wetland Centre Location: Queen Elizabeth's Walk, Barnes, SW13 9SA [map] Open: 10am - 5.30pm (closes 4.30pm in Winter) Admission: £16.50 5-word summary: reclaimed reservoirs, now waterfowl airport Website: wwt.org.uk/wetland-centres/london Time to set aside: at least an afternoon The site at Barn Elms lies within the great Boat-Race curve of the Thames, facing Fulham across the river and accessed via Barnes. Entry is across a footbridge over a gratuitous lake, just to set the scene, past a bronze statue of Sir Peter Scott in wellies making observational notes on two Bewick's Swans. I don't think the guano smearing his hair was part of the sculptor's original vision but it did feel appropriate. Then it's into the Visitor Centre to pay up (or not, as applicable), and then you're out into the main courtyard ready to spot birds. Leave the gift shop to the end, it is indeed an integral part of the exit procedure. What lies ahead is a complex of lakes, lagoons and reedbeds very approximately square in shape. The important thing is you can't walk all the way round the edge because the northern quadrant is kept people-free, so the two options are to walk left as far as you can go or right as far as you can go, then come back and do the other one. Before you head off check the screen with a list of daily sightings (oooh) and then look for the stairs leading to The Observatory. This is a balconied space behind a huge glass wall with a great view across the site and offers the chance to spot birds on the nearest lake. Almost all of the waterside is reed-edged so you need to take your observation opportunities when you can and this is the only elevated warm one. otters so don't expect a sensational aquatic act, but they did eventually emerge yesterday and do some cute things with straw... and Bob flew off sadly unsatisfied. For the serious visitor the site's true highlights are the hides, six in total, each with a different waterside aspect. If you're not familiar these are shielded spaces with slotty windows allowing birds to be seen without seeing you. If you are familiar you'll know they have seats or perches allowing lengthy periods of observation, and ledges where you can rest your extremely large lens and watch the action. I always feel underdressed when I turn up with my tiny 8×21 binoculars sourced by redeeming Orange reward points rather than the optical Alpenhorns that proper birders bring, but equally I wouldn't know what I was looking at anyway. The South route has more of a child-visitor-focus, including a pond zone, a sound garden and an adventure playground. It's well done and also partly educational, including for example a plughole you can walk through to discover what not to flush. More active kids will appreciate the Wild Walk, a chain of planks which hugs the edge of the Fritillary Meadow and threatens a muddy denouement should you fall. At the far end is a proper rope bridge, which in the absence of small children was being enjoyed by adults and even grey-haired visitors instead. It felt perfectly fine as I strode on, then started wobbling and bouncing unnervingly as I approached the middle, and that was without anyone else stomping along to make things worse. I saved the tallest hide for last, the Peacock Tower, which boasts views of lake, scrape, lagoon or marsh depending which way you look. Climbing to the second floor offers the best panorama, be that of water, birds or the west London skyline, and yes there's a lift should your twitching needs require step-free access. Here was the greatest concentration of serious observers, notebooks at hand, occasionally muttering "widgeon, shoveler, two teal" to a neighbour before raising their glasses again. I can see the value of annual WWT membership if waterfowl are your thing, especially at just £4.50 a month, but I thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to have free rein for just one day. At time of writing £0 tickets for today and tomorrow are still available and who's to say what flapping wonders you might see.

all images by Otama-shimai | used with permission The Japanese artist who goes by the name Otama-shimai creates Nihonga-style images almost exclusively of hamsters. Nihonga is a Japanese style of painting coined in the mid-1800s to differentiate it from its Western counterpart. Typically made from organic pigments and depicting animals or landscapes, nihonga can be […] Related posts: Miniature Collages Inspired by the Sea, Made From Newspaper Clippings and Nihonga Materials Nihonga Painter Yuki Matsuoka’s Organic Artworks are Brimming with Energy Traditional Nihonga Style Paintings of Ordinary Life by Yuka Kasai

Head to Chinatown or Trafalgar Square today and you can celebrate Chinese New Year with dancing, culture and cuisine courtesy of the London Chinatown Chinese Association and the Mayor of London. That's because the new moon on 29th January triggered the Year of the Snake (蛇), a period traditionally symbolised by wisdom, intuition and transformation. 60 years ago. I thought I'd look back and see what I was doing when the Year of the Snake came round previously, aided and abetted by the fact that I started keeping a diary when I was 11¾ so I do actually have a record of each. 2 February 1965 (Wood Snake) 18 February 1977 (Fire Snake) BAGA 4 athletics award. Today we have a debate in English on the subject of pirate radio, our history teacher allows us to play games and our music teacher fails to turn up. My diary says "Mark ran round school three times" which I have to confess means nothing to me now but if you've ever seen the film The History Boys you'll have a good idea what the course looked like. This evening sees the final performance of Haydn's Creation in the local church because I've already been drafted into the school choir and they take concerts really seriously. Tomorrow I'll be going shopping in Watford and trying to find the latest copy of Krazy comic, which I still reckon is the best comic of all time although you may disagree because 2000AD was launched the following week. We also go grocery shopping in the new Mac Market in Charter Place, which has just opened, and which I see I rated "good". Simpler times, most of which I would completely have forgotten had my 11 year-old self not diligently recorded them. 6 February 1989 (Earth Snake) that Brit Awards show and I'll be going to Penzance for the day because a ticket is only £19. 24 January 2001 (Metal Snake) text messages. Playing Sim City 3000, which I've just bought, proves rather cheaper. Then tonight an email arrives confirming that the nicest person in upper management is leaving, probably not coincidentally, and suddenly my work environment is careering off in uncomfortable directions. However by taking advice and being canny I'll have negotiated a payrise by Monday, and within months I'll be quitting for Job 4 in London which is essentially where my life turns around. It didn't look great at the time, but you'd not be reading this blog were it not for machinations at the start of the year of the Metal Snake. 10 February 2013 (Water Snake) National Libraries Day, specifically Kensal Rise and the Horniman which I visited yesterday. Tonight I'm going to write up my trip to Queen's Park, including my grandfather's grave, Daleks and the fact you can buy toilet rolls in Singhsbury's Superstore. Best of all I'm about to write two posts about the potential for a Bakerloo line extension, having walked across Burgess Park and Walworth, and 12 years later I am still writing about London's inability to kickstart this project. On this particular Sunday my fridge is empty so I walk down to the big Tesco only to discover they've shifted their opening time from 10am to noon so I have to go to the Co-op instead. Later I download a new app on my smartphone and receive disappointing feedback, make sure I've posted a golden wedding card to my brother's in-laws and watch a light sprinkling of snow fall just before midnight. The week ahead includes an appraisal meeting at work, a trip to the opticians and a big night out in Nine Elms, and looking back it feels almost recent but is actually 20% of my life ago. 29 January 2025 (Wood Snake) And here I am back in the Year of the Snake again, walking the streets of Crofton Park and having bacon and Brussels sprouts for dinner. What amazes me is how few Snakes it's taken to reach my 60th year and what unnerves me is how few I still have to go, maybe just the one. Such is wisdom, intuition and transformation.

Japanese family crests, or kamon, are visual symbols that have represented family lineage and identity sometimes for centuries. While they are often associated with tradition and cultural heritage, their meanings, usage, and significance can vary widely. Some kamon hold profound historical or personal meaning for families, while others may have been chosen for aesthetic reasons or simply inherited without deeper thought. These […] Related posts: Kamon by Craig Anczelowitz It’s not what it seems | painted food disguised to look like other food Hitler finds out that people are stockpiling food in Japan