Last Updated on September 25, 2026

A sassy, date-night rom-com, but does it have the bite?

Table 17 comes to London after successful runs in New York and L.A. It is now served up to UK audiences at the Kiln Theatre, which is transformed via a versatile set into Bianca’s restaurant, the centrepiece of which is the eponymous Table 17. Before we get there, we are introduced to Jada (Marisha Wallace, Cabaret, Celebrity Big Brother) and Dallas (Jamael Westman, An Ideal Husband, Wolves on Road), a couple preparing to meet each other for the first time after a lengthy break-up.

Jada is a tell-it-like-it-is, kick-ass type, and after a full-blown lip sync to Chaka Khan’s I’m Every Woman, she launches into a spicy monologue about the forthcoming rendezvous. She asks the audience if she is overdressed (she is) and speculates on why Dallas called her after two years of silence. Does she want him back? Does he want her back? And, critically, will he be wearing his usual ”dusty ass polyester corduroy”?

Dallas, meanwhile, is confident he looks good, and the corduroy is in fact “POPPIN”. His intro suggests he didn’t want to leave the relationship after four years but had to and ponders that asking her to dinner tonight might be a selfish move. They are greeted at Bianca’s by their host River (Michael Rishawn, who reprises his role from the U.S. productions).

Gay and snarky, River pilots the couple to the table with asides to the audience about their awkwardness: “Ugh, the straights”, he mutters. Having got them seated, and after some awkward chit-chat, they order drinks. Dallas has a soda, revealing he is sober and attending AA; she has a cocktail, ‘The Tropical’, cue flashback to their first meeting six years ago, a bar, a cocky bartender and their first kiss. Bianca’s becomes a nightclub with a loud R&B soundtrack.

The structure of Table 17 is thus established: the dining couple in present time with a succession of flashback scenes showing the course of their relationship. These include a festive present giving, a basketball game and Jada at work as a flight attendant. In each case, the set, with its changing lit floor, overhead captions and rotating seating booth, indicates the location adroitly.

The direction (Zhailon Levingston, Chicken and Biscuits, Cats: The Jellicle Ball) is slick, fast-paced, with much physicality. Writer Douglas Lyons (Chicken and Biscuits, Beau) has a strong comedic touch and Table 17 creates a lot of humour. This is mostly derived from put-downs and oblique observations from River as well as exaggerated reactions and misplaced outrage from Jada. There isn’t a lot of set-up, farce-type humour often associated with the restaurant genre, à la Fawlty Towers, but no bad thing.

Table 17 utilises a lot of direct address. The audience is asked to respond to questions and opine via boos or cheers to certain statements. All good at creating an immersive relationship to the play, with the direct narration doing a lot of the heavy lifting in terms of storytelling and orienting the audience in respect of location and timeline. However, as the play progresses, the amount of direct address grows.

Increasingly, the face-to-face dialogue between Dallas and Jada is aimed at the audience, which dilutes some of the dramatic tension. While it gives voice to what the characters are really thinking as opposed to what they are saying overtly, this risks making the play a bit on the nose and lacking subtext. In contrast to the vividly written longer monologues, the face to face over the table scenes come over as a bit thin.

The reasons for the break-up are explored via the flashbacks, principally that Dallas was never home, too busy building his music career, which left Jada resentful (despite her own nights away as a flight attendant). Possibly indicative of a lack of maturity, she is sufficiently aggrieved to take radical action. Interestingly, his issues with drink are never referenced again in the flashback scenes.

In general, their motives feel a bit flimsy and lacking psychological credibility. It would have been nice to have seen more change and reversal in the couple. Similarly, although a captivating performance by Rishawn, River never seems to move on from being love-lost and disillusioned with men. He remains a commentator on the action, albeit a very perceptive and humorous one.

The dramatic structure means we know Dallas and Jada split up. Exploring the reasons why is of interest but means there is inevitably a lack of dramatic tension. The will they/won’t they get back together question becomes the focus of the play but doesn’t feel very high stakes, and the twist (there always is one) is muted. That said, the production undoubtedly has the atmosphere of a good night out, a relaxed comic show almost verging on a revue. It doesn’t offer many deep insights about relationships or the perils of reconciliation, but the strong cast are compelling. Definitely make a reservation and remember to ask for Table 17.

Table 17 runs from 24th September to 24th October
Kiln Theatre
269 Kilburn High Road

London, UK, NW6 7JR

The post Table 17 – Kiln Theatre appeared first on London Unattached.

Last Updated on September 25, 2026

Rhythm Riot combines versatility and explosive energy

Vitality, superhuman energy, and above all rhythm – these are the keywords of English National Ballet’s latest triple bill, aptly named Rhythm Riot, which has just started a week-long residency at Sadler’s Wells.   Three very diverse choreographers, three composers and two world premieres made for an entertaining programme, which surprised and engaged in equal measure.

Rhythm Riot opened with Balanchine’s 1972 Symphony in Three Movements, set to one of Stravinsky’s spikiest, most capricious compositions and informed, like so much of the choreographer’s dances, by the vibrancy of Broadway.  It’s a work of pure, exuberant, almost exhibitionist technique, set for a corps of 16 women, a group of five demi-soloist couples, and three lead pairs.  Danced in plain leotards, the lead women’s shades of pink breaking the monochrome uniformity of the ensemble, on a bare stage under bright lights, it offers nowhere to hide.

To coin a phrase, it’s a truth universally acknowledged (maybe) that nobody dances Balanchine like the Americans, who are uniquely capable of the attack his work demands.  That said, and despite a few imprecisions in the ensemble, this ENB cast, coached by former Balanchine dancer Ben Huys, gave it their all, and the three lead couples showed full command of the distinct moods of their choreographies.   Swanice Luong and Daniel McCormick thrilled with high jumps, full extensions and soaring lifts.

In the second movement, andante, guest artist Ksenia Ovsyanick and Rentaro Nakaaki infused Balanchine’s quirky movements – a broken wrist, a questioning look as arms intertwine, a flexed foot breaking the line of a soft turn – with a sense of mystery.   And Emma Hawes and Rodrigo Pinto brought a measure of pizzazz to the final Allegro.

After the interval, Rhythm Riot went all 1940s.  

Choreographed by LA-based Micaela Taylor on a genre-mashing score by Phillip Patrick Harper Bucknor a.k.a. Tru, Bow Out was inspired by Jumpin’ Jive, a show-stopping dance number by Fayard and Harold Nicholas, from the 1943 movie Stormy Weather.   Extraordinary dancers who combined tap, jazz and acrobatics in their act, the Fayard brothers are known to have inspired Fred Astaire, among others; Bow Out’s dancers, kitted out in unisex white tie and tails (costume design Candice Mac), took to the stage, moodily lit by Jessica Hung Han Run, in a boisterous display of acrobatic, pulsating dancing.  

It’s entertaining and enthusing enough for a while, but taken as a whole, Bow Out appears disjointed, alternating energetic bouts of dancing, including some fabulous Lindy Hop duets, with random moments of quiet, where the lights change, and everybody lies down, and not a few gimmicky sequences, where dancers pull faces, scream silently and make to address the audience through an old-fashioned stand microphone, only to change their minds.

The most intriguing work of Rhythm Riot comes last: Auguries of Innocence, by the US-based Korean choreographer Jae Man Joo, the programme’s second world premiere.  Inspired by the eponymous William Blake poem (printed in full in the programme), this is an immensely theatrical, yet esoteric work, which the choreographer says is intended as a response to humanity’s depredations of nature, and as a call for “a kinder, more connected world.’

It opens with a striking image: the commanding figure of company lead principal Sangeun Lee stands in a pool oh hazy light, wearing a long black dress of shredded lace, cascading hair loose, arms stretching to encompass the space around her.  She is the Weaver of Souls.

The slowly revealed ensemble, dressed in all black, stand behind her, their movements sharp, often martial, carrying ritual violence and summoning, it seemed to me,  elements from ancestral Korean culture.  There are short solos for named characters – A Skylark Wounded in the Wing (Gareth Haw). The Beggar’s Rags, Heavens Tear (Minju King), the Caller (Rentaro Nakaaki), the Conduit (Ken Saruhashi), the Vessel (Taela Graff) – but it’s unclear how exactly they fit into a diffuse narrative.

The piece is set to music by the Latvian composer Pēteris Vasks, played live by the excellent English National Ballet Philharmonic, under Maria Seletskaja, as well as a recording of thumping, highly rhythmic drum music.  

Auguries of Innocence ends on a hopeful note of purification: now the dancers wearing flesh coloured body stockings seem to represent souls redeemed, their dancing soft and gentle, under the gaze of the ever-present Weaver of Souls.

Rhythm Riot is made up of disparate works, but I wouldn’t hold that against it.  Taken as a whole, it shows a company is in fine fettle, more than willing and able to blend tradition with novelty.

English National Ballet Rhythm Riot is at Sadler’s Wells 24 September – 3 October at 7.30 pm. Sat mats at 2.30 pm
Dur.: 1 hour 55 mins inc. two intervals. Tickets: £15 – £75

Sadler’s Wells Angel
Rosebery Avenue
London EC1R 4TN

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Last Updated on September 25, 2026

A Full-blooded Tosca Debut for Oxford International Opera

Starting a new regional opera company in an era of swingeing cuts to the art form is a high-risk undertaking. But the team behind Oxford International Opera’s full-blooded performance of Puccini’s Tosca last night deserve their flowers for a highly successful opening night at Oxford’s New Theatre. Having Sir Bryn Terfel as artistic director is something of a coup for the company and can only have helped in bringing in top vocal talent, including Italian soprano Carmen Giannattasio in the title role and Albanian-born tenor Saimir Pirgu as the artist Cavaradossi. Terfel, whom I last saw delivering a monumental performance as Boris Godunov at Covent Garden, has said that this will be his final performance as the evil Baron Scarpia, reason enough to make the trip along the M40.

Tosca was first performed in 1900 at the Teatro Costanzi in Rome and was an immediate hit. The score swerves between being ravishingly lyrical and nakedly melodramatic. Its lean libretto by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa drives the action forward with a pacey, dramatic trajectory that leaves most other operas catching their breath. Tosca is the second of Puccini’s sequence of three operas featuring tragic heroines – La Bohème, Tosca and Madama Butterfly – that have become staples of the repertoire. The libretto is based on La Tosca, a French play from 1887 written by Victorien Sardou originally starring Sarah Bernhardt. The opera is set precisely 100 years before the date of its premiere, on the 17th and 18th of June 1800. At this point in its history, Italy was not yet unified and was in a constant state of upheaval, with foreign powers jockeying to take control of the wealthy city-states that made up the country.

The story of Tosca takes place in Rome at a time when King Ferdinand VI of Sicily ruled the Eternal City, having retaken it from Napoleon and the French. However, Napoleon had returned to the north of Italy, capturing Milan on June 2nd, with the battle of Marengo raging as the opera progresses. The story of opera singer Floria Tosca, her jealous love for the painter Cavaradossi and the couple’s tragic conflict with the all-powerful Chief of Police Baron Scarpia, plays out against this historical background. There is a struggle between the French supporting Republicans, who supported self-rule and were anti-clerical, and the more conservative Royalists. The opera is one of the first in the period written in the new ‘verismo’ style, aiming for an authenticity of narrative and emotion and the score is underpinned by a series of thematic and character-based musical leitmotifs that lend dramatic impetus and coherence.

Director P Burton-Morgan and designer Anthony Lamble have created a grim, coherent world for the opera that references the contemporary without being set in a specific location or time. It deliberately conjures up the modernist spirit of Bauhaus and Le Corbusier with one basic set functioning as the framework for all three acts. The church of Sant’ Andrea della Valle had a grey brutalist concrete interior with narrow oblong windows providing chinks of luminescent hope. The second act is set in Scarpia’s office within the Palazzo Farnese and had the liturgical elements stripped out, replaced by the Baron’s imposing desk, a minimalist wooden slab set on a concrete plinth. The final act, normally played out under twinkling starlight on the rooftop of the Castel Sant’Angelo, was kept inside, no doubt for sound budgetary reasons. Instead, the clarinet soloist came on stage duetting in the shadows with Saimir Pirgu as he gave a heartbreaking rendition of Cavaradossi’s signature aria ‘E Lucevan le Stelle.’ Director P Burton-Morgan is known for his use of colour, and in this production it is a blood-red that infused the staging, highlighting the brutality at the core of the piece. Found on Scarpia’s tie, Tosca’s trouser suit and Angelotti’s prison-issue boiler suit, it’s an effective dramatic mechanism. The only false note in the production for me was Cavaradossi’s painting of Mary Magdalene, which looked like the cover of a 1950’s pulp fiction novella.

Carmen Giannattasio’s Tosca was more convincing as a tragic heroine than as a lover, but her singing was flawless. Her signature aria ‘Vissi d’Arte’ had an internalised stillness with a delicacy and beauty of tone that made it less of a vocal showcase than a dramatic tour-de-force. Saimir Pirgu’s Cavaradossi was full of romantic and revolutionary zeal, with a lyric tenor voice that is at the peak of its powers. With a strong physical presence, he is one of the best interpreters of the role in the world at the moment.

Bryn Terfel’s Scarpia dominated the stage and was a thrillingly chilling representation of evil enabled by a malign state power. His voice still has plenty enough heft to dominate proceedings even though he describes himself as being in the ‘diminuendo’ of his career. Terfel seemed to be enjoying his swansong as Scarpia, and it was an honour to witness it.

Jamie Woollard, an endearingly thick Snug in Glyndebourne’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, was sombre-toned as the revolutionary Angelotti, whose presence is felt more off-stage than on. Welsh bass Sion Goronwy made for a more sympathetic and jovial Sacristan than is often the case, with the Radley College Choristers bouncing around him charmingly. British tenor Peter Van Hulle was an excellent last-minute replacement in the role of Spoletta, Scarpia’s weaselly henchman. Dark-suited and shades-wearing, he impressed with his strong tone, impressive diction and characterful acting. Congolese bass Blaise Malaba, who seems to be in nearly everything these days, was a thuggishly sympathetic Sciarrone, dressed in fetching black paramilitary garb. His resonant tone brought depth to what can be an overlooked part.

The Oxford Philharmonic Orchestra was founded in 1998 by conductor and pianist Marios Papadopoulos, who was in the pit last night. The orchestra is not as well-known as it should be and attracts top international soloists. The New Theatre has no pit, so the orchestra was set up in the first few rows of seats, and there were a few balance issues early on in the evening which were soon resolved. The upside to the orchestra’s positioning is that it highlighted the full impact of Puccini’s orchestration and, in particular, the orchestra’s lush string sound. This created a more visceral sonic experience than is often the case in opera, allowing Papadopoulos to milk the melodrama, romance and extremes of passion embedded in the score.

Oxford International Opera are planning a production of Beethoven’s Fidelio in spring 2028, and it is a cause for celebration that a new centre for opera is opening up outside of the metropolis. It’s not often that one gets to witness the birth of an opera company, and this initial production promises great things for the future.

Tickets and information regarding the Oxford International Opera at the New Theatre
are available here.

Tosca
24 and 26 September

New Theatre, 24-26 George St, Oxford OX1 2AG

For more information on upcoming opera productions, see our season preview.

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Last Updated on September 24, 2026

Celebrate Negroni Week with a hands-on workshop covering the origin story and art of this classic Italian cocktail

Cocktail drinkers tend to fall into 2 types: Those who like their cocktails sweet, fizzy and fruity; and those who like them smoky, sour or bitter.  I have always fallen into the latter camp:  from the margarita to the old fashioned via Campari spritz to my perennial favourite: the negroni.

It is sometimes said that the negroni is the coffee of cocktails: the first time you try it, you wonder why anyone likes it. The twentieth time, you wonder why anyone drinks anything else. It’s unsurprising, therefore, that every September, bars around the world celebrate this crimson cocktail during Negroni Week. And what better place in London to do this than at the Negroni Bar at Boisdale of Belgravia, as I did this week.

Boisdale of Belgravia is a bit of a Tardis – from a modestly-sized (but wonderfully red!) street frontage it opens out into a rabbit warren of spaces.  Walk through the main dining room (which feels a bit like visiting a Scottish hunting lodge – unsurprising, given that their USP is being London’s premier destination for game dishes!). 

Bypass the rather lovely little courtyard with its flowers and fairy lights, and make your way to The Negroni Bar, a cosy space of no more than a dozen small tables where the negroni reigns supreme.  The bar has been open for a number of years and prides itself on serving over a dozen different variations of the classic negroni as well as other aperitivi-style cocktails. Yes, they can do you a pornstar martini… but expect some side eye!

Throughout the year, Boisdale periodically runs intimate negroni workshops here, and as I mentioned, this one coincided with Negroni Week (21-27 Sept 2026).  We were welcomed by the very dapper bar manager Brian Calleja, who also presented the workshop and is a font of knowledge on all things bitter and alcoholic! While we waited for all the other guests to arrive we enjoyed a welcome cocktail in the form of an Americano (also known as a MiTo).  And when Brian kicked off the masterclass by taking us through the history and evolution of the iconic Negroni cocktail, the Americano’s significance as the opening act soon became apparent. 

To understand the Negroni, Brian took us back to its constituent ingredients: semi-sweet red vermouth, Campari and gin.  Vermouth is essentially a base wine fortified with neutral spirit to raise the alcohol to about 18%.  The distinctive bitter flavour comes from infusing the alcohol base with various botanicals, the most prominent and distinctive of which being wormwood, while the red colour (and some balancing sweetness) comes from the addition of caramel. The centre of vermouth production in Italy (think of the famous houses like Cinzano) was Torino (Turin).

Campari, on the other hand, starts life as a neutral spirit which is diluted with water and infused with a secret recipe of botanicals, the most prominent of which is gentian, but also including bitter citrus and spice notes. Its red colour used to be derived from crushed cochineal beetles (!), but you will be thrilled to hear that these are no longer used. Campari was developed by entrepreneur Gaspare Campari and produced in Milan from 1860 onwards.  And at some point after that, a barman had the idea of combining equal parts vermouth and Campari over ice: thus the Milano-Torino or MiTo cocktail was born.

Over the next couple of decades, a lighter variation was developed where the MiTo was topped up with soda water to make for a less alcoholic cocktail. It was this version that found favour with American visitors to the region, and gradually it became known as the Americano – a name that remains today.  It’s a great alternative if you love the flavours of a Negroni but prefer a lighter, longer drink. And according to Negroni lore, the crucial final evolutionary step came about in 1919 when Count Camillo Negroni asked the bartender at Caffè Casoni in Florence to make his usual Americano stronger by replacing the soda water with gin. 

Historians argue over whether this actually happened, but soon the drink was generally being referred to as “Count Negroni’s drink” and eventually just a Negroni. Today it is still served around the world as a bartender standard: equal parts semi-sweet red vermouth, Campari and gin over ice, garnished with a sliver of fresh orange peel (or an orange slice). Campari already has prominent bitter-orange and citrus notes, so the peel serves to reinforce flavours that are already present in the drink.

After taking us through the history, it was time to get busy with some hands-on cocktail building.  Each of us had all the equipment and ingredients laid out on our tables to make two further cocktails, starting with a classic stirred Negroni – so simple that you can make it at home with minimal specialised equipment. 

Simply add equal measures of red vermouth, Campari and gin to a large glass with a few ice cubes and stir for around 30 seconds to mix the ingredients, melt the ice a little, and dilute the alcohol.  Then simply pour through a strainer into a fresh glass, top up with ice and add your orange slice.  If you want to get technical, twist the peel over the drink to release the aromatic oils before dropping it into the drink.

As I mentioned, the Boisdale Negroni Bar serves more than 14 variations of the cocktail, and the second cocktail that we made was one of these: the Negroni Sour.  It still starts with equal measures of Campari and vermouth, but instead of gin, we then added overproof white rum (at a whopping 63% alcohol by volume!) and a sour mix (simple syrup and lemon juice).  You can also add egg white – we didn’t.  As this is a shaken cocktail, the fun part was adding all the ingredients to a retro cocktail shaker with ice and vigorously shaking it for half a minute or so – the more you shake, the more foam you create.

The drink is served in a coupe or a martini glass, and I have to say that it was my favourite drink of the evening – complex and very grown-up!  Definitely something I will try to recreate at home.  We also finished with a taste of an aged Negroni, where the basic cocktail is mixed and then left to age in a small wooden barrel for 8 months or so.  It’s an extraordinary drink, combining the familiar herbal aromatics with a woody undertone. It’s just one of the rare vermouths, house infusions, and international influences that come into play at Boisdale’s in curating their menu of Negroni spinoffs and variations.

During the evening we also enjoyed generous canapes, including exceptional burgers cut into quarters and excellent smoked salmon toasts.  Along the way, we not only learnt the history of the Negroni but also explored its constituent parts, its balance and flavour, and discovered some practical tips and inspiration for recreating the experience at home or adding our own twist to this Italian classic.

The workshop is a lovely way for both Negroni novices and long-time fans to spend an evening, and Brian is both charming and exceptionally knowledgeable. Considering that the average price of a cocktail in London these days is around £15 and you get three included in the class, it is also surprisingly excellent value for money. 

Sadly, the workshops are now finished until 2027, but keep an eye on the Boisdale events page on their website to see when the next one will be held.  And while you wait for the new workshops to be announced, it is worth heading to the Boisdale Negroni Bar to see what other variations on this iconic cocktail you might discover in the meantime. Cin cin!

Boisdale of Belgravia
15 Eccleston St
London
SW1W 9LX

Tel. 020 7730 6922
Reservations: reservations@​boisdale.​co.​uk

Looking for somewhere to eat in Belgravia? Check out our review of AVI Bistro, Belgravia.

The post Negroni workshop at Boisdale of Belgravia appeared first on London Unattached.

Last Updated on September 24, 2026

The Musical by Sting

For his myriad of fans, a musical starring Sting is the must-see theatrical event of the season. Those fortunate to have tickets for the preview and opening night performances were treated to the additional talent of rap artist Shaggy, who made an all-too-brief appearance on stage at Theatre Royal Drury Lane. First performed in the US in 2014 and subsequently revived, it first toured the UK in 2016.

The musical tells of the declining years of the UK shipbuilding industry, specifically in Wallsend. A shipbuilding community, we build ships’, has been suddenly threatened as the Swan Hunter shipyard is closed pending privatisation, ostensibly because there have been delays, but as part of the Thatcherite closure of the mines and shipyards that took place during the 1980s. In the context of this looming catastrophe for the community, two love stories are woven into the narrative.  A sailor in the Marines, Gideon (Declan Bennett), arrives home after his father’s death, having been at sea for 17 years. Having been raised by his alcoholic, shipbuilding father – his mother left the family during his childhood – he fled Wallsend as soon as he was able, vowing never to return while his father was alive. But he finds that grieving awaits him as he returns home. His life changes in other ways too, as he discovers that he has a teenage child, Ella (Hannah Richardson), born in his absence to his erstwhile love, Meg ( Frances McNamee), who never told him about the child.

The second love story ends more sadly, as shipyard foreman Jackie White (played by Sting) is in failing health and torn between leading his community in one last act of defiance and tending to his illness. His wife, Peggy (Jackie Morrison), tenderly cares for him and takes on the mantle of leadership when he can no longer do so. The shipbuilders, refusing to be defeated without one last fight, decide to break into the shipyard at night, complete the ship and launch it off to sea. When threatened with police intervention, the women of the community put themselves between the police and their men, and the Tory minister from the Department of Trade and Industry, Baroness Tynedale (Cassiopeia Berkley-Agyepong) dressed in Thatcher blue, calls off the cops, thereby avoiding unfavourable photographic images on the front pages.

Having written the music and lyrics, Sting has crafted a story that few others could bring to the stage. Part political and industrial history, part romance, the musical interweaves the personal and the political and links the destruction of Britain’s manufacturing towns and the destruction of communities, the consequences of which continue to rumble along in contemporary times.

Sting produced an album in 1991 about his relationship with his deceased father. Those of us old enough to have been diehard Sting fans back then recall the soulful music of The Soul Cages, a sometimes melancholy collection of songs that spoke of his grief following his father’s death, and of a time now passed, when shipbuilding was part of the manufacturing industry. His father was an engineer in the shipyards in Wallsend in Newcastle, where Sting grew up. While, as a youth, he yearned to leave this life behind him, as an older man he has written a musical in which he explores the memories of this time. Some of the beautiful songs from The Soul Cages have found their way into The Last Ship – All This Time and Island of Souls. When We Dance, from his 1994 album Fields of Gold, also finds a place in The Last Ship.

Sting writes tenderly and his songs are full of hope for a better future while confronting grief in the present. Bennett plays the young man Gideon, Sting himself in his youth, embracing both his pugilist background with the growing maturity of a man who comes to realise what he has lost by not dealing with his complex relationship with his father. His duets with Meg were full of longing for love lost and then regained.

While The Last Ship, that runs to just under three hours with an interval feels lengthy, there are some standout sequences, especially The Last Ship which brings the first half to a rousing finale. Sting himself leaves much of the vocal work to his younger cast members, but there were some lovely duets with Morrison. Morrison, herself, comes into her own not only in the narrative, but finds her strongest singing voice in the second half. Similarly Richardson as the teenage daughter, whose gutsy rendition of a reworked All This Time is one of the highlights of the show.

As those who were raised on Sting’s lyrics might expect, the songs and the dialogue are peppered with political and literary references. I cannot think of another musical with so much Marx and Engels and speeches about the means of production espoused by Union representative, Billy (Joe Caffrey).  The shipyard carpenter, Adrian (Duane Gooden) brought much-needed levity to the piece with his love of literature, albeit that quoting Dylan Thomas’ Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night when Jackie dies seemed a step too far. Rap artist Shaggy made a brooding presence as The Wallsend Ferryman, waiting, like Charon in Greek mythology, to row the dead across the river to the Island of Souls. While he played his part well, I am sure the audience would have appreciated hearing more vocal work from him. Cinematic references are there too, especially when the ship finally launches as if directly into the audience, as did the 1896 Lumière Brothers’  film of a train at Ciotat, resulting in the audience rushing from the cinema. Here, the audience leapt to its feet, clapping and whooping as The Last Ship hit the waves.

The outstanding feature of this production was the ship itself, a brooding and beautiful presence, projected onto the back of the stage. The video design by 59 Studio brought constantly changing lighting sequences, foregrounded by industrial rigs and scaffolding, used as platforms for the cast and created visual interest with multi-level staging throughout the production. At one point, the ship image becomes a church, with Sting commenting to his wife that a church is like an upturned ship.

There was a wide variety of musical styles with the orchestra, conducted by Richard John, in full swing off stage, the strings sometimes seated on the scaffolding to the side.

The Last Ship is in town for a short run and is sure to be appreciated by Sting fans as he has written a very personal story. Although it could do with a trim, the musical is engaging and visually beautiful with some fine vocal work and moving lyrics.

The Last Ship runs from 23 September to 3 October

Theatre Royal Drury Lane

Catherine Street

Covent Garden

London WC2B 5JF

Looking for something different? Read our review of Alcina at Royal Opera House.

The post The Last Ship – Theatre Royal Drury Lane appeared first on London Unattached.

Last Updated on September 23, 2026

The Luberon – The Spiritual Home of Provence

This is the first of a series of guides to Provence in southeastern France, a region that borders Italy to its east, has the Mediterranean Sea as its southernmost boundary, and the river Rhône to the west. Popularised in the UK by the author Peter Mayle in his series A Year in Provence, the area has long been a destination for British tourists. But Provence is much more than a rosé-drenched idyll full of charming locals who drink Pastis and play Pétanque.

As well as the sunflowers, perfume, wine, beaches and the glamour of St.Tropez, Nice and Cannes, it’s also a region of contrasts: there are jagged mountains dotted with villages that cling to the cliffside, and barely cultivated plains that seem to stretch forever; there is lush vegetation and dry scrubland; bijou villages populated by the Parisian elite, and the urban grit and creativity of Marseille, the serene peace of a lavender field and the roar of French Rafale fighter jets.

The Luberon

We are going to start our tour of Provence with the area known as the Luberon, a series of small towns and villages built on 3 mountain ranges and the home not only of the extremely popular Peter Mayle book “A Year in Provence” set in the village of Ménerbes which spawned a TV series, but also the location of the two classic Marcel Pagnol films set in the early decades of the 20th century, “Jean de Florette” starring Gerard Depardieu and “Manon des Sources” starring Emmanuelle Béart, that provided a much less glamorous take on the realities of subsistence farming in the area.

Cavaillon

Our first visit was to Cavaillon, a market town with an industrial base that provides the amenities needed for the region. Cavaillon’s old town centre is charming, with a rich history waiting to be uncovered if you are prepared to dig a little. The town is known for its 8 species of Cavaillon melons, and the lusciously sweet fruit has its own festival in July. They were a favourite of author Alexandre Dumas (The Count of Monte Cristo, The Three Musketeers) who, so the story goes, traded all his original manuscripts for a delivery of 12 Cavaillon melons a year. Cavaillon dates back to the 6th century BC.

Built and populated by Greeks, with walls like those at Mycenae, other waves of settlers included the Celts and then the Romans, who built the Roman Double Arch that sits next to the town’s Tourist Office. As time moved on, Cavaillon became part of the Kingdom of Naples, only becoming French after the revolution. The locals at that time spoke Provençal and had a distinct cultural identity.

Cavaillon’s “Notre-Dame and Saint-Véran” Cathedral was built around the same time as Notre Dame in Paris but in an Italianate, not a Gothic style. Look out for the 17th-century gilded woodwork and some fine paintings from the same period, including some by Nicolas Mignard, a friend of Molière. Legend has it that Saint Véran, the 6th C. Bishop of Cavaillon, tamed the local dragon at the village of Fontaine de Vaucluse and that the ochre colour of some of the local soil came from the dragon’s blood.

For a period of about 100 years beginning at the start of the 13th C., Jews were expelled from the UK, France and then Germany. In the late 16th century, the Pope, who was at this time based in Avignon, allowed a few Jews to settle in Cavaillon and three other settlements in the Papally controlled Comtat Venaissin independent state within Provence. They were known as the Juifs du Pape (Jews of the Pope).

However, the Jews were forced to live in a one-street ghetto with a night-time curfew and with windows only looking out onto the street. The men had to wear a yellow hat and the women a yellow veil. The French composer Darius Milhaud emerged from the Cavaillon ghetto. The street houses the Cavaillon Synagogue with its drab 15th-century exterior hiding the surprisingly rococo 18th-century interior. It’s worth a visit to understand the enclosed lives that this vibrant community were forced to live.

If you are interested in archaeology, the Musée Archéologique de l’Hôtel-Dieu has a fine collection of Celtic, Greek and Roman artefacts. Probably the most eccentric collection in Cavaillon is the Hôtel d’Agar, which not only has the oldest garden in France dating from the pre-Christian era but also what has been described as a “cabinet of curiosities”, a family collection displayed in a private mansion. There are artefacts from the Greek and Roman eras, two glorious paintings by Caravaggio and some contemporary artworks. Visit is by appointment for a guided tour. See the website.

Architecture fans will be intrigued by the Pont-aqueduc de la Canaù just outside of the town. This “masonry and siphon” bridge dates from 1537 and is rumoured to be taken from a Leonardo da Vinci design for a much bigger structure originally planned to span the Bosphorus rather than in Provence.

Fontaine-de-Vaucluse

Just over 20 minutes’ drive from Cavaillon is the charming village of Fontaine-de-Vaucluse, the source of the beautiful river Sorgue. Park just outside of the village and follow the river uphill to near its source, a spring with the largest flow in mainland France, fed by nearby mountain waters, which is fenced off for safety reasons. The riverbank is the perfect spot for a lazy picnic in a bucolic setting.

Abbey of Sénanque

Not far from Fontaine-de-Vaucluse is the Abbey of Sénanque. Set in a deep valley amongst the vertiginous gorges, its gorgeous white stone, stunning cloisters and the pervasive scent of lavender transport you to a more serene place. The abbey is very much a working monastery and you even get to see the straw mats that the monks use for sleeping in their dormitory. As with most attractions in Provence, it’s worth arriving early, as in the summer season it gets busy.

Gordes

Also in the same area is the bijou village of Gordes, ranked by Travel + Leisure magazine as the “most beautiful village in the world.” I can’t judge that, but it is one of the prettiest in Provence. With the Château de Gordes dominating the skyline, its chi-chi boutiques, cobbled streets and steep paths and a popular Tuesday morning market attract a wealthy crowd; there’s a Ladurée macaron shop and a Sotheby’s estate agent. The village has to be seen but gets very crowded, and parking is restricted to the official car parks.

Right in the centre of the village are the St Firmin cellars, semi-troglodytic caves used as artisan workshops and storage spaces during the Middle Ages. It’s worth a visit to gain an understanding of the history of the Luberon villages before the area was redeveloped. You can see where wine vats, a bread oven, an olive oil press and a tannery all coexisted, providing a subterranean workspace in the cool of the caves.

If exploring troglodytic caves has made you hungry, then go for lunch at La Bastide de Pierres in the heart of the village near the castle square for reasonably priced pizzas, pastas and salads and a spot of people watching.

Village de Bories

Close to Gordes is the extraordinary Village des Bories. Dating back to the 14th century, this collection of thirty dry-stone buildings was originally built for livestock and human shelter from the infamous Mistral wind. Peasants removed the stones used for their construction to clear the land for farming. Restored in the 60s and 70s, it’s a must for aficionados of dry-stone construction but the buildings have an otherworldly sculptural presence and a sense of deep-rooted Provençal history that makes the village an important destination.

Roussillon

In the same region is the town of Roussillon with its glorious Ochre Trail with easy parking near the town’s centre. There are two different trails of 30 and 60 minutes, neither of which is suited to anyone with mobility problems. However, if you can get around, then the landscape is mind-blowing, and unlike anything else I have seen in Europe. It’s a bit like being on a French-speaking planet with gorgeous ochre canyons and a charming gift shop. Park at Le parking des Ocres, which is only 100m away.

Legend has it that Lord Raymond d’Avignon, who lived in the castle in Roussillon, preferred hunting to spending time with his wife, Lady Sermonde. She took a lover, a young nobleman, and when Raymond found out, he had the lover’s heart cut out, cooked and served to his wife in a spicy sauce. She threw herself off the top of a cliff, and her blood coloured the surrounding landscape, giving it the signature ochre colour. The town of Roussillon is very picturesque and worth looking around once you have completed the Ochre trail.

Château de Lourmarin

North of Aix-en-Provence is the delightful Château de Lourmarin, originally built in the 15th C. and with an evocative Renaissance wing built a century later; it was bought in 1920 by Robert Laurent-Vibert, a Lyon industrialist, who restored it. After his death, the Robert Laurent-Vibert Foundation of Lourmarin was set up, which hosts young artists in residence during the summer, with concerts, conferences, and exhibitions throughout the year.

It’s a beautiful building, and you are likely to wander into rooms which are full of contemporary art with young musicians practising. While you’re in Lourmarin, eat at the Bacheto restaurant, part of the 4-star boutique Le Moulin hotel nestled in a converted mill, for a contemporary take on the cuisine of Provence.

L’Isle sur la Sorgue

To the east of Avignon is L’Isle sur la Sorgue, a lovely town full of canals and the many water wheels that powered wool production. There are also over 300 antique shops, and it’s easy to spend a day wandering and discovering atmospheric squares such as the Place de la Liberté, home of many intriguing shops and bars and the most important church in the town, the Collégiale Notre Dame des Anges. If you are looking for somewhere quiet to eat, Maison Moga is set back from the main drag and offers wonderful seafood, cheese or charcuterie platters. 

Les Grottes de Thouzon

Just a short journey from L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue are Les Grottes de Thouzon. In 1902, an explosion revealed the cave’s opening, which led to a 230-meter-long gallery studded with stalactites and stalagmites. They are stunning, and it’s well worth a visit if, like me, you like that sort of thing. Take a sweatshirt or cardigan as it can get quite chilly underground!

Other Villages

Other villages to visit in the Luberon include Oppède-le-vieux which is quiet and has amazing scenery; the artists’ village of Lacoste, where the Marquis de Sade had his castle; Bonnieux, the highest village of the Luberon, for its stunning views and bakery museum; and the often-neglected Lauris and Cucuron, with its famous rectangular pond.

I could spend weeks exploring the Luberon and will certainly return the next time I am in Provence. There is a sense of permanence and mystery about the region that will draw me back for further visits. Our next article exploring Provence will look at Arles and the neighbouring Camargue region, home to the famous white horses, pink flamingos, black bulls and cowboys.

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Last Updated on September 23, 2026

Portuguese play presents urgent political and moral dilemmas

Part drama, part philosophical debate, and full-scale politics, Catarina and the Beauty of Killing Fascists, playing at the Dorfman, National Theatre for one week, is a Portuguese play with English surtitles, that has been causing a storm since it was first performed in 2020. Written and directed by Portuguese playwright Tiago Rodrigues, this is a play that sets out to discomfort rather than to reassure audiences.

The play is set in 2028 in Southern Portugal and references an event that occurred in 1954 during the fascist Salazar dictatorship. A harvester named Catarina Eufémia was murdered by the regime’s police in the Alentejo town of Baleizão during a workers’ strike.  She became the symbol of the Communist Party resistance against the regime and has been immortalised in numerous Portuguese poems and songs. In the play, a family has, for the past seven decades, enacted an annual ritual of kidnapping and murdering a fascist to avenge the woman who was murdered in their town.

When family members turn 26, they take their turn to carry out the killing.  In the year that the play is set, Catarina (Beatriz Maia), recently 26-years-old, refuses to pull the trigger.  This ushers in a debate amongst her relatives about how fascism should be opposed. Is it acceptable to fight fascism with violence or does that emulate fascism? Does the end justify the means? How do we deal with the contradictions in our democracy? In a tolerant society, how do we oppose intolerance?

Playwright Rodrigues, Director of the Avignon Theatre Festival. has given many interviews about his play and reminds interviewers of the armed resistance to the Nazi occupation of France during WWII.

Catarina and the Beauty of Killing Fascists runs to two and a half hours without an interval and is an intense experience where complex moral problems are presented. Not only are political and philosophical issues debated – the trolley problem gets the Rodrigues treatment – but the final half hour is a monologue by the fascist. He expounds at length, his hate-filled diatribe becoming increasingly extreme. This begs the question of whether a commitment to free speech threatens to undermine the democratic values we hold dear and whether democracy itself has the necessary tools to fight fascism.

This deliberately provocative monologue has resulted in a range of angry responses wherever the play has been performed. When it was staged in Portugal, the audience, in an attempt to drown out the actor, broke into Grândola, Vila Morena, the song of resistance to fascism during the Carnation Revolution which restored democracy in 1974. In Italy, the audience sang Bella Ciao, an anti-fascist song. In Berlin, members of the audience tried to wrestle the actor off the stage.

Rodrigues has observed that while members of the audience may in theory oppose violence, the final monologue is so provocative that ‘kill the fascist’ is sometimes shouted. Rather than the audience’s vocal opposition to the monologue being the exception, it is only during a handful of performances where the audience sits quietly and listens. I wondered how a London audience would react. If silence indicates consent, are we accomplices if we remain silent in our seats?

As might have been predicted, the London audience sat quietly and politely listened. There were a couple of whistles and some mild laughter. The English ability to ridicule those with whom we disagree has a long history in satirical comedy and, even at the ballot box, we now have Count Binface. But what the play forces us to question is whether ridiculing those who threaten to sweep aside the Constitution, to ban same sex marriage, abortion, to roll back the rights of women and minority groups – whether humour will protect our democracy.

It is also possible that the strong reaction to the fascist speech in countries like Germany, Italy and Portugal is due to the audiences there having lived under fascism and still bearing the scars. In England we are one step removed. Yet anyone who has taken up arms for a cause – or supported those who do – cannot stand aside as if the disagreements that are so emotively argued in the play are simply an intellectual exercise. This is an urgent play for our times and extends to many of the conflicts that are currently raging. We may laugh, but it is no laughing matter.

This should not imply that the play itself has no humour. On the contrary, it is often very funny. The character (Joao Vicente) who quotes Brecht at every opportunity is hilarious and contributes to the absurdist quality of the play as well as making a case for the constant contradictions that we all carry within us, much like Mother Courage.

As a play, Catarina and the Beauty of Killing Fascists had a sense of urgency that grew as the play developed. It is the skill of the playwright to weave in much humour into what is a deadly serious set of dilemmas. Equally, it takes a particular calibre of actor to carry it off. Here, was an ensemble piece in which each of the eight actors had a chance to shine. Much like a jazz band where every instrument has its solo.

Sometimes, watching a play spoken in another language with surtitles disrupts the emotional engagement as the audience misses facial expression and nuance, their eyes focussed on the words above the stage. Here, the actors’ performances were so powerful that I was constantly engaged. Particularly memorable is a scene when a family photo taken before the killing of the fascist turns into a dance macabre, the actors depicting the sort of ritualistic movements that lead to an emotional and physical fever pitch which takes people out of themselves and into an altered state where violence is possible.

At first the costumes were confusing – all the cast wore long skirts – and then it became clear that both men and women were called Catarina. In part, this is because the family was steeped in its tradition and role of avenging the death of Catarina Eufémia and attempting to remove the stain of their forebear – a policeman who did nothing to stop this atrocity. But it presumably also references our contemporary inclination to signify our solidarity with political injustices and infringements of freedom of speech with the slogan ‘je suis Charlie’ and numerous organisations and people since.

When he wrote Catarina and the Beauty of Killing Fascists in 2020 and set it in 2028, some of his Portuguese colleagues thought that Rodrigues had written a dystopian scenario that could never return to Portugal. Yet, in the few years since, ultra-right-wing parties have been gaining seats in parliaments not only in Portugal, where Chega is the second-largest party, but across Europe. This is a deeply disturbing play because it addresses a burning issue that threatens democracy and raises the uncomfortable question of whether our democratic institutions are capable of protecting us from fascism through the ballot box.

Catarina and the Beauty of Killing Fascists runs from 21 – 26 September

National Theatre, Dorfman

South Bank

London SE1 9PX

Looking for another play at the National Theatre? Read our review of Electra/Persona

The post Catarina and the Beauty of Killing Fascists – Dorfman Theatre appeared first on London Unattached.

Last Updated on September 21, 2026

Anatolian cuisine in Soho

Some new restaurant openings come and go without much fanfare; a few don’t make it out of the starting blocks. At London Unattached, we enjoy trying to spot which new eateries are likely to become super popular. One of these was Oma at Borough Market. It went on to be awarded a Michelin star and remains one of my favourite eateries in London.

When I heard that the man behind Oma, David Carter, was teaming up with Mangal II’s ex-chef Sertaç Dirik to open KİD, I was as delighted as the next restaurant-obsessed Londoner. While it is tempting to say that this is the new kid on the block, the co-founders have a long and fine pedigree, which is partly why there has been such excitement about the opening of KİD, which serves wood-fired mangal cuisine.

While Oma is Greek, KİD is Turkish, yet there are several similarities between the two restaurants. One of the glorious parts of the OMA menu is outstanding breads and dips, which form part of the KİD menu. The extensive wine lists at both restaurants have been compiled by the same sommelier. The pared-back design with simple wooden tables and somewhat uncomfortable chairs (plump for the banquette along the brick walls) presents a similar aesthetic.

Unlike at Oma, finding the entrance at KİD proved to be a challenge. Despite occupying a large corner site in Soho, the door was tricky to locate as there is no signage, and my companion and I walked up and down a few times before we could gain entrance. The restaurant has large windows overlooking both Bateman and Frith Streets, and while we observed diners inside, we could not get in. This was compounded by overflow drinkers at the pub over the narrow street, sitting on what turned out to be the doorstep and leaning up against the metal door.

If you go to KİD, look out for a large metal panel that, on further inspection, has a small imprint of a goat high up on the door. Despite the restaurant address being listed as Frith Street, the door is on Bateman Street.  I have been to a number of restaurants with similarly obscure entrances, and while it may introduce a sense of exclusivity in Mayfair, in Soho it feels unnecessary.

Once we had gained entry, all was well. The staff were welcoming and friendly and soon had us seated. I assume that during the daytime there is a lot of natural light flowing in through the large windows. At night, however, the restaurant is rather austere -moody, or gloomy, depending on your vibe, with low lighting and bare brick walls.

My companion commented that it felt like sitting in a brick oven. On a further visit, I will ask to be seated in the main room where the tables are well spaced, and you can enjoy the view from the windows or take a seat at the bar and watch the action at the mangal grill, filled with large kebab skewers.

Alternatively, the back room has inviting tables at its windows. We were seated in what must once have been a passageway and is now enclosed with brick, with tables so close to each other that throughout dinner, we were treated to every word of the neighbouring table’s conversation. Add in the loud drumbeat of the background music, and it was not the quiet date night I had anticipated. However, because it was upbeat, it was enjoyable.

The KİD menu is divided into sections, each with just a few options, which is how I prefer menus. This is unlike the sort of Turkish restaurants that have a copious list of meze and salads, and where I hardly ever get to order a main as the starters are so generous. Here, there are three snacks, two breads, four meze and small plates, two oven dishes, five grilled options and two sides.

We began with two items from the three snacks on offer. KİD Sucuk and grilled peach brought two generous slices of sausage along with a quenelle of peach purée. The meat was beautifully spiced, aromatic and garlicky, with good heat.

The standout dish was the courgette flower, Tulum goat’s cheese, Atom honey. Sadly, courgette flowers are seasonal, so I was delighted to find it on the menu in autumn. It was the sort of dish you return to a restaurant to eat again. It looked resplendent in its presentation – fried in a light batter that was crisp and thin, covered with a thick drizzle of grated cheese and Turkish chilli flakes.

The flower itself, once cut into, oozed with generous, cheesy goodness, complemented by the perfect heat of the Turkish chilli flakes and the sweetness of the honey. Perfectly balanced and cooked. While I traditionally associate fried, stuffed courgette flowers with Provence, dare I say that this Turkish makeover is even better.

At this point, our drinks arrived. My companion had a glass of Chamlija ‘Thracian’ 2017,  from an extensive wine list which begins in the Anatolian heartlands, travels east to the Black Sea and the Caucasus, then tacks west around the Aegean coast before diving deeper into Europe. Those unfamiliar with these wines would do well to take the advice of the sommelier who came round to assist. There is a tempting list of cocktails with a Turkish twist from which I enjoyed a most refreshing low alcohol option – vigne soda made with sour cherry, dry sherry and sarikiz (a Turkish brand of sparkling water).

Aware that the breads and dips must be good if David Carter is involved, we ordered both the Wildfarmed grilled pide and the Tombik pide, a round, pillowy flatbread. Both were utterly excellent, with the grilled pide having a gorgeous char and a generous amount of salt and garlicky oil that glistened in the candlelight. Although one of each is sufficiently filling if you are also ordering some dishes beyond the meze selection, these pide are so wonderful that you might be tempted to order another round. Or two.

They are the perfect receptacle for the meze dishes. We ordered both taramasalata, onion crisp, capers, as well as smoked aubergine and garlic yoghurt, and crispy grains. The taramasalata was the best I can recall eating – creamy, with a great smoky fishy flavour, with a few onion crisps on top and a smattering of crispy, fried capers. Rich and savoury, we mopped the bowl clean.

I was less enthusiastic about the smoked aubergine dip. I had expected a baba ganoush-type dish, but this one was less smoky than expected and overwhelmed by the toppings. The dip was covered in a layer of crispy grains and a blanket of fried shoestring potatoes. It was a creative combination but, in the spirit of less is more, this tasted overdressed.

The unmistakable flavours of the mangal grill shone through with grilled quail ezme. A spatchcocked quail perched on a pool of ezme – a thin yoghurt sauce that contained minced vegetables. The quail had a beautiful char, the meat was tender and pink, and the seasoning was spot on. I am a great fan of quail and order it whenever it appears on a menu. This was an excellent version, which I was sorry to have to share with my companion. I only wish I had ordered more pide to mop up the juices and a portion to myself.

No surprise that one of the signature dishes of KİD is roast kid. In Turkey, this dish is traditionally cooked in a tandir, an underground pit oven. Here at KİD, the meat is wrapped in vine leaves and slow-roasted overnight in the wood oven.

It came to the table in its ceramic, lidded dish. Inside was a large piece of kid on the bone, atop a generous helping of a soupy freekeh with chickpeas and shoestring carrots, akin to a freekeh risotto. We were encouraged to remove the bone, pull the meat apart with spoons – that is how tender it was – and mix it into the freekeh. There was easily enough for four people, but this dish was so delicious that we polished it off ourselves.

To cut through the rich flavours, there were two small side dishes – one of pickles and the other of garlic yoghurt. It is the first time I have eaten goat with pickles, and I enjoyed the fermented flavours along with the meat. Mixed in with the freekeh, the dish became a delicious meat stew, a hearty choice that will no doubt be a winner this winter. The freekeh, which retained its chewy bite, provided good textural contrast. This was hearty cooking: rib sticking, rich, caramelised meatiness.

The snacks, meze and breads are all so good that they cannot and should not be resisted. The result is that unless you have a gargantuan appetite, you may be rather full by the time the main dishes arrive. Soldier on, though. Alternatively, make two bookings so as to concentrate on all aspects of the menu. Even better, bring some friends so that you can taste more dishes than a couple can get through.

The dessert menu had three options from which we selected baklava, cardamom, cherry, almond and a mint mastic ice cream. The baklava looked very enticing, perched alongside a bright red pool of sour cherry sauce. While I enjoyed the cardamom spice and the sour cherry pairing, I was disappointed with the baklava itself; the nuts were overtoasted, and it lacked enough syrup to hold it together.

The mint mastic ice cream was memorable – it tasted like mint tea in ice cream form. It had the sweet profile of a Turkish mint tea, but had thankfully dialled back the sugar. It was a good-looking dish, the ice cream presented as a mint green mound with a central pool of emerald green mint syrup. It was the perfect end to a rich meal. My companion brought proceedings to a close with a traditional Turkish coffee.

While a vegetarian will not go hungry at KİD, with a choice of a snack, three dips, bread, a borek and two sides,  the main courses on the menu are meat-focused. Pescatarians do have scallops, mackerel and calamari to choose from, which would certainly keep me happy. Carnivores will be in their element.

Service was friendly and helpful. The pacing was good – the whole meal was done within 75 minutes but did not feel rushed. At 9.30 pm, diners were still arriving; this is not a venue where you have your table for the evening. KİD is already popular, and I am sure will continue to grow its reputation in Soho.

While the décor is rather austere – a few bright artworks on the bare brick would add some colour – the atmosphere was upbeat. I will certainly be back, possibly for lunch, so I can enjoy the light coming in through the large windows and partake in some people-watching while I tuck into those fabulous pide and mop up the meze. Next time I will order them all.

Looking for something different in Soho? Read our review of Firebird Restaurant and Wine Bar

KİD

55 Frith Street

London W1D 4SJ

Tel: 0123456789

Other openings that have caught our attention this month:

Mirtala

Mirtala is a North Mexican restaurant that has opened in Chiswick. Run by a husband-and-wife team, the restaurant will showcase authentic Mexican cooking with the best British ingredients. Sure to be popular with diners is Mirtala’s large-scale taco and barbacoa platters served on handmade Lavec stoneware, which will include Wagyu beef, fresh hake, slow-cooked pork, wild mushrooms and homemade salsas. Other items on the menu designed for sharing are Devon crab, roasted aubergine tostadas, and masa fried chicken with spicy habanero cream. If you can’t make it to Mexico, get down to Chiswick.

Mirtala, 59 – 61 Turnham Green Terrace, Chiswick, London W4 1RP

Brook & Green

It is all eyes on Chiswick this month. Brook & Green is open all day as a neighbourhood restaurant and wine bar on Chiswick High Road. The menu, which changes as the day progresses from breakfast through to dinner, spans Mediterranean, Asian and British influences. The restaurant has a terrace for warmer weather and a newly developed wine room for wine discovery and pre-dinner drinks. From breakfast on a Monday to Sunday lunch, the restaurant aims to become a regular space for locals, an eatery that Chiswick needs.

Brook & Green, 142 Chiswick High Road, W4 1PU

Bamboo Mat

Following on from the success of Bamboo Mat in Stratford, a new venue is opening in Canary Wharf. Here you can enjoy Nikkei, the wonderful fusion of Japanese and Peruvian cuisines. Start the journey with pisco sours and move on to ceviche, sushi and sashimi, mains of teriyaki, ox cheek, and a range of tasting menus. From the raw bar to the robata grill, this promises as much good eating and drinking as its East London eateries.

Bamboo Mat Canary Wharf, 1 North Lane, Canary Wharf Estate, London E22 3AD

The post KİD – Restaurant of the Month appeared first on London Unattached.

Last Updated on September 22, 2026

London’s International Festival of Dance Returns to Stage and Screen

Dance Umbrella has been bringing both established and experimental dance to London every year for almost half a century. Over that period, the annual festival has necessarily evolved, gradually moving away from established companies to shift its focus to boundary-busting artists, whose work sometimes stretches the definition of dance itself. Post-Covid, Dance Umbrella has also added a digital element to its programming. This year’s festival, under the direction of Freddie Opoku-Addaie, is divided into In-Person and Digital Sections, with eight shows in the former and seven to watch online.

Below I offer a selection of the most intriguing shows in Dance Umbrella 2026.

IN-PERSON:

Mamela Nyamza: The Herd/Less – The South African artist Mamela Nyamza returns to Dance Umbrella, following a first appearance two years ago with a show that has since won the 2026 Venice Biennale Silver Lion. Her brand new piece, The Herd/Less, draws on powerful elements from African culture to explore the relationship between the individual and the group to reveal the everyday tension between harmony and control in a vibrant and colourful stage display.

The Herd/Less is at Sadler’s Wells East 8 – 10 October at 7.30 pm.
Dur.: 65 mins, no interval. Tickets: £20 – £30 (+ booking fee)

Sadler’s Wells East
Stratford Walk
Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park
London E20 2AR

Theatre-Rites & Miguel Altunaga – Eshu at the Crossroads – A special for all the family, this Dance Umbrella collaboration between British-based Afro-Cuban dance artist Miguel Altunaga and pioneering puppet company Theatre-Rites takes us on an adventure inspired by Yorubic culture, myth and storytelling. We follow a traveller, who’s looked after by a rooster and watched by Eshu, an unpredictable trickster spirit. Suitable for ages 5+

Eshu at Crossroads is at the Albany (14 Oct 10am & 1 pm); Brixton House (25 Oct 2pm & 5pm); The Place (27 Oct at 11 am & 2 pm). Dur.: 40-45 mins. Tickets: £16 (children £12)

The Place
17 Duke’s Road
London WC1H 9PY

Cie Omar Rajeh & Maqamat – Dance is Not for Us. French-Lebanese choreographer, festival director and cultural architect makes a rare London appearance with an intimate solo, intended as a personal memoir and a political act. Rajeh dances and speaks of a past that no longer exists in a performance overshadowed by the destruction of his native Lebanon, and described as “raw, urgent and deeply human.”

Cie Omar Rajeh & Maqamat – Dance is Not for Us is at Barbican Pit 16 & 17n October at 7.45 pm
Dur.: 60 mins no interval. Tickets £21.50

Barbican
Silk Street
London EC2Y 8DS

Jack Anderson & Charlotte Mclean with Malin Lewis, not for glory – direct from Scotland this blend of Highland dance, Irish dance and live piping, is billed as a dance-theatre gig that’s “virtuosic, visceral and uncompromising”. Furthermore, we’re told, it combines “kilts, queerness and ceremonial violence.”

not for glory is at Cecil Sharp House 13 & 14 October at 7.30pm (doors open at 7pm)
Dur.: 75 mins inc one interval. Tickets: £20.50 (concessions available)

Cecil Sharp House
2 Regent’s Park Road
London NW1 7AY

DIGITAL:

All shows in the digital section are available to watch on demand from 7 October to 30 November. You need to acquire a £15 Digital Pass

Garumbé: Afro-Andalucian Memories – this fascinating documentary from Intermedia Producciones delves into the roots of Spain’s perhaps best-known cultural export, flamenco, to find the fundamental contribution of Afro-Andalusian communities to the music, dance and cultural expressions that shaped it.

Dur.: 72 minutes

MJW Productions & Candoco Dance Company, Outside In. Candoco Dance Company, which features disabled and non-disabled dancers, celebrates its 35th anniversary this year, and this film captures its remarkable spirit, which helped redefine what could be seen on stage. Credited to choreographer Victoria Marks and filmmaker Margaret Williams, the film uses the camera as a creative partner to shape a new and unexpected format.

Dur.: 14 mins

Akram Khan Company, Artist Encounters – Anatomy of a Story

Akram Khan is one of the most influential dance makers working in Britain today. In Anatomy of a Story, which will take place simultaneously in-person at The Bhavan and through digital, he is joined by Royal Ballet director Kevin O’Hare, who will facilitate a conversation on Khan’s ideas, influences and creative practices, with the participation of English National Ballet repetiteur (and former lead principal) Erina Takahashi and first soloist James Streeter.

Dur.: 90 mins

Dance Umbrella 2026 is live at various venues 7 – 27 October and on its digital platform,

For further dane suggestions see London Dance Previews July to December

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Last Updated on September 20, 2026

The taste of Madeira

Dancing in a lagare (trough) of grapes, arm in arm with new friends, a band playing in the vineyard, I felt as if I was in a dream. As we trod the grapes beneath our bare feet, the juices ran off into a large bucket, and soon the first glass of grape juice was passed around. Later, the rest of the juice was dispatched to the winery to continue its journey, ending up, in a few years, as a bottle of Madeira wine.

I visited Madeira to experience the food and wine of this beautiful volcanic island, but what I had not realised was quite how much I would learn.

I began my education at Blandy’s Wine Lodge in Funchal with a horizontal tasting of four wines. Not that I was lying down, mind you, more that the wines were all the same age (3, 5, or 10 years), across different styles. These styles are classified by their level of sweetness:  Sercial (dry), Verdelho (medium dry), Bual (medium rich), and Malmsey (rich/sweet). You could opt for a vertical tasting, which comprises four ages of the same style or grape.

Aficionados will enjoy the vintage tasting, where you can try premium wines, dated and aged in oak barrels for at least 20 years in the attic of the Lodge. Using this natural heat from the sun is called the canteiro method (canteiros are the wooden beams that support the attic). You can step back in time up to 100 years. The saying goes that men age like a good wine. As we were celebrating my husband’s birthday, I thought this would be a fabulous gift – to taste the Madeira wine of his birth year, and then take home a bottle of that vintage.

My next level of learning occurred in restaurants where sommeliers offered excellent Madeira wine pairings. This surprised and delighted me, as I had previously understood Madeira wine to be a dessert wine. Such was my ignorance.  Turns out that it pairs really well with fish, for example. In fact, Japan is one of the fastest-growing export markets for Madeira wine.

My late August visit to Madeira coincided with the annual Wine Festival in Funchal. Each evening, I had an opportunity to taste my way through the wide array of Madeira Wine houses (there are eight) and their products, chat to the producers and savour the diverse notes of this renowned fortified wine selection.

Finally, I was invited as a guest of Visit Madeira to the grape harvest festival at Blandy’s Quinta do Bispo in São Jorge, a vineyard where I learned a great deal about the history of Madeira Wine. When the island, now known as Madeira, was discovered in 1419, it was covered in very dense forest, hence its name – madeira means wood in Portuguese. After clearing some of the laurisilva forest – the fires burned for seven years – sugarcane was grown and thrived, thanks in part to the fertile volcanic soil that comprises this island.

After a century of what came to be known as the  ‘white gold’ rush, the sugarcane crop began to fail due to depletion of the soil from an intensively farmed monocrop. Added to this downturn was the increasing competition from the Caribbean sugarcane industry. Madeiran farmers turned to planting grapevines and making wine.

Since all ships sailing to the Americas stopped at Madeira, wine barrels were loaded onboard to be taken to their destinations. To prevent the wine from turning to vinegar during the voyage, it was fortified with extra alcohol, so that no bacteria could grow. The story goes that the barrels of fortified wine heated up in the hold of the ships, with the result that the wine tasted even better after its voyage. This was due to the increased oxidation that occurred due to the heat. From this point on, what is now known as Madeira wine was born and has been matured ever since in warm attics. Unlike Port, for example, which is matured underground.

The vineyards in Madeira are most often small – not much bigger than a tennis court – and are generally unmechanised. Most of the maintenance of the vines and harvesting is done by hand, relying on the community of neighbours, friends and family to help. Unlike the large vineyards you might see in other countries, on Madeira the grapes are grown using the latada system – wire trellises on which the grapes grow, forming a canopy. This not only increases airflow and reduces fungal growth, but it also enables the farmers to grow vegetables and other crops beneath the grapes.

While  Madeira wine has always been part of the Madeiran drinking culture, in the UK it was once thought of as an older person’s beverage. The old-fashioned phrase ‘have a Madeira, m’dear’ bears testament to its erstwhile history, with Madeira having accompanied the British to the colonies and gaining popularity back home too.

Nowadays, in addition to it making an appearance on wine pairing lists, mixologists are exploring its use in cocktails – I drank a wonderfully refreshing and light-tasting Madeira Tonic at the Blandy Quinta do Bispo, which I would happily make for friends. Even the bottles, which in Madeira are black and white, now sport jauntier labels for the export market. This is important to the well-being of the brand, as 75 – 80% of the 3 million bottles produced annually are exported.

Madeira wine is not without its challenges. Younger people are more inclined to seek low alcohol and low-sugar drinks, whereas Madeira wine is high in both – around 20% alcohol and 50 – 125 g of sugar per litre.  There are also pressures on land use. Historically, the farmers who grew the grapes did not own the land. This was a feudal system which has persisted, I was told at the vineyard, until a few generations back.

In recent times, the land has become more valuable as a place to build a house – or sell to a developer – than a place to grow grapes. Hence, less, not more land is available for use to grow the grapes the Madeira wine makers need. The Madeira Wine Company, which owns four of the Madeira wine brands, buys in around 90% of the grapes needed. Additionally, while traditionally, fathers passed on the farm to their sons and so on down the generations, young people nowadays do not necessarily see their future in farming.

One of the joys of my Madeira trip was taking a deeper dive into Madeira wine. After my own research at the Wine Festival and the visits I made to the Blandy Wine Lodge and the Quinta do Bispo vineyard, I found that wine tasting was one of the highlights of my visit to the island. Having enjoyed a range of Madeira wines, from a great cocktail made with Sercial, to pairings with prawns and other seafood dishes, to dessert pairings with Malmsey, I hope that younger generations of wine lovers continue to explore this versatile wine style so that it remains available to be enjoyed well into the future.

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