Not what you’d call a quiet year, 2024: big elections here and across the pond; endless trouble in the Middle East; Russia and Ukraine still at it. P Diddy. Oasis reunited, while Taylor Swift continued to stake her claim as the most successful musical artist, ever. The Olympics! Remember them — who won, again? AI creeping towards all our jobs. Brat summer. One Day. Chicken wine. “Wellness”, whatever that really is — but also Ozempic. Moo Deng, the Pygmy hippo. Or, given we’re on animals, Baby Reindeer. Hardly very demure, very mindful.
Food and restaurants had a quieter time of it, generally. It has been a year of second acts, of established chefs expanding or trying new things, of hits expanding into new sites. Claude Bosi’s Josephine has been a triumph; Calum Franklin returned to town (this time at the Georgian in Harrods); and Jason Atherton has been making one hell of a comeback. London finally got AngloThai, and Santiago Lastra made his long-awaited next move with Fonda, a follow-up of sorts to Kol. In fact, both Mexican and Thai seemed to be the food of the moment. That, and smashburgers (the best I ate this year? Shake Shack in Guadalajara airport. I kid you not).
