A rainy night in London's East End, above a betting shop, you find the supperclub of statuesque Florida native, artist and DJ Amanda. Charmingly she gives no specific instructions on how to enter other than the address. Fat Les and I giggled as we walked around trying to find the entrance:
"Do you think we go through the betting shop to a back room?" I wondered, visions of passing through thugs in shirtsleeves, wearing visors and waistcoats, high rollers over a green baize card table.
"Shall we bring all the tables inside?"She looks glamorous in towering heels, a vintage pinny, bare legs and a kimono top.
"No, it's going to clear up"she announces brightly with can-do American positivity.
"When I go to a normal restaurant I'm always in the position of wondering if I can afford the whole experience...dessert, coffee, aperitif, wine. Here I know I can" she says.
Sometimes Amanda comes to sit with us "This started out as a dinner for friends who could then bring a friend" she explains. "I just wanted to make simple food: steak and potatoes and salad".
"I can't believe you are all going so early! I'm just getting started..."