The White Horse: Richmond's Sloaney Poney

14-16 Worple Way, Richmond, TW10 6DF

tel: +44 (0)20 8940 2418

When I first moved to London in 2001, I was living with a very posh, 50-something female flatmate who was keen to show me all things British. She started me off with a few top tips. 1) You mustn't buy your bed linens anywhere expect John Lewis. 2) You must never say, "I'm full" after a meal - one says, "I'm replete". 3) If you want to meet nice men, go to the White Horse in Parsons Green. Famously dubbed the Sloaney Pony because of its posh clientele, a single girlfriend and I gave it a go one Friday night. It was disastrous. The "nice men" were all pretentious tossers, most of them smashed off their faces bragging about their latest sailing trip to Croatia. We lasted one beer before running for cover.

Fast forward ten years. A girlfriend of mine with a new bloke in her life texts me to ask if me and my fella would like to meet them for Sunday lunch. She suggests the White Horse. I gulp. But then I notice she's said, "the White Horse in Richmond." I sigh with relief. Thank heavens for the plethora of pubs in London, many with the same name. So I check out the website. It dubs itself as a "lovely local gastropub" and says it's famous for two things: its great food and fantastic staff. When we arrive on the first Sunday of 2011, the place is packed with reserved signs on every table. The first thing we notice is the high proportion of children. And dogs. Together, they almost outnumber adults. As we try to squeeze through a narrow pathway to our table, no one gets out of the way. "Pardon me," I say politely to a table of well-groomed men and women wearing wool jumpers and wellies. No response. "Excuse me," I say again, this time with a little more edge. "Could I just sneak through?" A man with horn-rimmed glasses snorts something posh and incomprehensible at me and grudgingly moves his chair in 1mm. "Thanks," I say out loud. "For nothing," I mumble under my breath. And then it dawns on me. This White Horse is the adult equivalent of the Sloaney Pony. This is where those same bragging, pretentious tossers come when they have perfect children and golden retrievers. Oh lord, I think. This is going to be a long lunch.

Luckily, the food is fantastic. The White Horse offers a choice of Sunday roasts - beef, pork, lamb, chicken or turkey.  Two of us choose the beef (£15.95). While the Yorkshire pudding was a little burnt, the meat was rare, juicy and coated in a gorgeous gravy. It was perfectly matched with a plummy Argentinean Malbec advertised on the "bin ends" chalkboard. We tried to order another bottle, but a charming waitress informed us we had drunk them dry of Malbec. She brought over an impressive wine list, featuring over 55 bottles and we managed to find an apt replacement with the house red. 

My husband, still feeling a little delicate from a boozy dinner party the previous evening, ordered the wild boar sausages with mashed potatoes and red wine gravy (£10.95). He had nothing but praise for the sausages and mopped up every last drop of the rich, thyme-filled red wine gravy.

Across the table, our girlfriend's new bloke went for the burger with melted cheddar, mustard mayo and chips (£10.95). He gave it the nod of approval and complimented the chargrilled flavour adding, "for a pub burger, this is pretty damn good." He comments that he'd order it again, but would ask for the bun to be grilled too. "The buns in this country always let the burgers down," he concluded. All in all, I'd give the White Horse a 8.5/10. The service was cheery; the food super tasty; the clientele - a bit wanky. That's not the fault of the pub. Where there's a White Horse, sloanes will follow. 

Gaucho: Meet the meat

The Towpath, Richmond Riverside, TW10 6UJ

tel: +44 (0)20 8948 4030

I love steak. I could happily eat it every night of the week. I know it's wrong. I've read Michael Pollan's excellent book the Omnivore's Dilemma. And, just this week, Friends of the Earth released a report urging people to limit their meat intake to three meals a week. Cutting down, the group said, could save 45,000 lives a year. That is hard for me to accept because I really, really like meat. My favourite meal of all time is a succulent rare piece of barbecued tenderloin. In fact, a couple weeks ago, when my husband asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I replied: "steak".

So, this is how we ended up at Gaucho, on the banks of the Thames in Richmond. The chain has 12 restaurants in London and boasts the best Argentinean beef in the city. This branch is relatively new and has a prime spot right on the river. With it's white leather seats, low lighting and clubby music, it feels a bit more like Ibiza. Along with tasty meat, Gaucho also prides itself on cocktails. Rightly so. Gaucho's drink list is impressive. Their specialty is mojitos, but as we bellied up to the bar the enthusiastic young bartender sung praises about the Carino: a mix of bison grass Polish vodka, strawberries and passionfruit with a sugared rim (£8.50). Very Sex and the City and extremely moorish. Mr Buckingham Palate couldn't bring himself to go for something so feminine, so ordered the Gaucho Bloody Mary (£8.25). He loved it. Spicy with a good hint of horseradish. Very manly. As we sipped, we perused the wine list and were blown away by the choice. Gaucho has hundreds of bottles from all over Argentina. It's intimidating, but we were quickly approached by a man in black with a smooth Spanish accent who introduced himself as "the wine guy". He patiently explained the different grapes of Argentina, where they were grown and picked us out a lovely, rich and slightly spicy red tannat from the Salta region called 'Don David' (£29.95).

Knowing that we were going to devour wicked weights of meat for our main course, we both chose a fish starter. Me: the Argentine baby scallop ceviche with mango salsa, red onion, coriander and lime (£12.75). Him: hand-picked crab with quail's egg, avocado, red onion and mustard mayo (£9.95). The ceviche was beautifully fresh and the soft texture of the scallops made me chew each bite slowly to savour the gentle flavours. The mango salsa was a winning accompaniment, not too sweet. I was a little baffled however by a random sprinkling of spicy, toasted broad beans because they were the same snacks I'd had while sitting at the bar. It was odd that they were then tossed over my starter. Anyhoo... 

The main act arrived. Our lovely Peruvian waiter had come over earlier with an impressive selection of raw steaks and explained each cut of meat. "Meet the meat," he smiled. Each cut comes in three different weights: 225g, 300g or 400g. Knowing I had to save room for birthday cake, I went for 225g of sirloin (£16.75). As you can see, it comes naked. I wish I had kept it that way, because the meat itself tasted wild, rare and fresh. Instead, I rather ruined it by dumping a drab, goopy peppercorn sauce (£2.25) over top. It was disappointing. Mr Buckingham Palate had better luck with a 300g medium rare chunk of ribeye (£19.50) with mushroom sauce. His topping was buttery and earthy and complimented the meat. Overall, both steaks were cooked well and tasted good - but we both agreed that we'd had better.

Just like a cow has four stomachs, I found an extra one for the double set chocolate cake with blueberry sauce (£7.25). It was a creamy white and milk chocolate number with a creamy mousse-like texture. It was a little too rich to follow such a heavy meal, but quite lovely. I'm not convinced that Gaucho has the best steaks in London, but the service is good, the food above average and the cocktails and wine great. If it was a drinking den, I'd be a regular. But as for a new favourite steak joint, my hunt continues.