On a day out in London with Alasdair, a quick bite to eat is required between a visit to the Royal Academy and a taking in of a play at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, the relative proximity of which defines where we might look to eat. Applying some quick mental filters for price, cuisine, and vegan options, we land on Cicchetti. The most striking thing is that this solves the mystery of which Italian restaurant it was I went to with Alex years ago, the lasting memory being a plastic business card with a photo of an old Italian man. Beyond that, we are seated at the bar and inevitably told to order three small plates each, which will inevitably come out “when they are ready” - this would be fine in a restaurant with attentive and careful service. Unfortunately, not the case tonight. Dishes get forgotten despite prodding, requests and questions get lost in the mix. The food itself, if nothing special, is nice enough - a surprisingly lusciously thick carbonara is good, and Alasdair speaks relatively highly of the avocado and pommegranate salad. I am too British to argue the 12.5% auto-gratuity, but it’s the first time in quite a while I’ve been tempted to.