I adore Borough market. Throughout the week I long for the frothy, creamy cappuccino served at Monmouth Coffee Company and lazy hours spent marvelling at some of the wonderful produce on offer. Its miserable detractors grumble that it’s relatively overpriced, touristy and on one food forum (that shall remain nameless) one of the members snidely pointed out that it had now been (horror of horrors) infiltrated by Fulham mummies. Yet for all the critiscm it attracts it remains the most infinitely enjoyable food shopping experience in London. For the sake of a few lousy pence it trounces most supermarkets and though relatively busy is large enough never to feel claustrophobic. Furthermore if you are a familiar with the stalls and vendors it’s easy to sort the wheat from the chaff.

The only complaint I can muster against it is that the encircling restaurants have as yet failed to live up to the greatness of the market. The three that I have personally tried; Brew Wharf, Fish! and Tapas Brindisa have ranged from the downright awful to the marginally above average.

Over the winter for some unknown reason we began frequenting Brew Wharf a rather characterless and sanguine establishment, serving a limited lunch menu but an extensive selection of beers that pleased my husband but left me indifferent. The surly Russian waitress provided a constant source of entertainment with her brusque, matter of fact manner. “What do you want to eat?” was her frequent opening gambit, accompanied by the customary hands on the hips. Yet for all its drawbacks we returned week after week lured back by its excellent pommes frites and the relative ease in securing a table. A level of complacency set in until one particularly disappointing meal constituting a soggy quiche and a bland onion soup led us to seek an alternative.

Initial impressions of Fish! were good. An impressive glass structure in the middle of the market provided excellent people watching opportunities and on our visit was brimming with diners seemingly enjoying their food. This however is one object lesson in never judging a book by its cover. Things got of to a bad start with the calamari, lifeless and covered in some pathetic excuse for a batter. Nothing however could have prepared us for the mains - out of four three were inedible and sent back. A piece of insipid, smelly and flabby Seabass slung above some rotten vegetables tasted as foul as it looked. The fish and chips were equally if not more vile, the haddock so old that a whiff of ammonia jumped out at every bite. To be fair the staff were gracious when we voiced our complaints, maybe they also recognised and were embarrassed by the offensive nature of the food served.

After this experience I didn’t want to leave anything to chance so avidly started researching other options. The general consensus leant towards Brindisa Tapas which had garnered favourable reviews by critics and diners alike. However because of its popularity one cannot walk in off the street and expect a table - either ring ahead or be prepared to put your name down on a waiting list and return in a couple of hours. The place itself is buzzy and full of the happy Borough market vibe. Nice looking waiters jostle between tables serving up a selection of tapas. We ordered around nine, half of which were delicious: the manchego cheese with orange blossom, the croquettes with Iberian ham and the selection of Spanish charcuterie. The remaining dishes ranged from ok: the Spanish potato tortilla and the pan-fried chicken livers, to the poor; underseasoned garlic prawns and a watery spinach tortilla. Whilst it was undeniably the best meal out of the trio and I remain in no doubt that I shall return, it does not warrant regular repeat visits.

The increase in foreigners visiting Borough market in some ways is a positive sign, the old myth that the English are not foodies or gourmands is completely dispelled when one sees the passion and energy the market elicits in both the vendors and the buyers. Unfortunately however restaurants such as Fish, the worst by a long shot, and Brew Wharf only reinforce old stereotypes that we as a nation are prepared to pay premium prices for disappointing restaurant food.

The search for the elusive Borough Market restaurant continues…

Sunday mornings will never be the same again now that we have a new addition to the family. Every morning at precisely seven o’clock a piercing bark emanates from the living room casually reminding us that it’s time to get up. For the first couple of weekends we did everything possible to alleviate the deafening noise – sleeping with earplugs, burying our heads beneath pillows…all to no avail. Now we have reluctantly resigned ourselves to the early wakeup calls. So instead of slothful mornings lying in bed reading the papers we are up at the crack of dawn bounding round Hampstead Heath. This trip is the highlight of our puppy’s social calendar a chance to get acquainted with other furry friends as well as the perfect opportunity to chase, bikes, joggers and most recently strollers.

On the drive home, whilst she smears the leather seats with muddy debris caught between her paws, we typically enter into heated debates concerning breakfast possibilities. Arguments usually erupt because I tend to favour poncy, little, cafes serving restrained, girly, portions as opposed to my husband who wants gutsy, hearty, fare washed down with a pint or two. Last Sunday however we reach an amicable compromise and go to The Peasant, a modern gastro pub located on St Johns Street near Clerkenwell.

The dining room is a quirky, inviting space and the menu is varied enough to satisfy my current dietary fad (a tedious high protein, low carbohydrate eating plan). Because of my limited options I opt for a smoked haddock dish served with a poached egg and buttered spinach. It would not have been my first choice yet it defies expectations. The haddock is flaky, delicate and not overly smoked (although I’m not sure it was a great decision to leave the skin on) and the hollandaise has just the right amount of piquancy to give it some edge. The side of Chorizo also has a pleasurably spicy kick to it. The service is everything it should be – friendly and efficient administered by staff that appear to take a genuine interest in the food and wine on offer.

The true motivation however for returning in the future, is their refreshing policy that permits mutts in their downstairs dining space. I made this exciting discovery just before we were about to depart when from under a table I spied a pair of eyes belonging to a particularly fetching hound. I’m not sure whether Bear (our puppy) is mature enough to possesses the requisite social skills to handle a dining-out experience, however as soon as I’m confident that she won’t leap on everybody in her vicinity I’m sure it might resolve the Sunday morning eating dilemna.

Kaia was to be the last stop on our gastronomic tour. The out of the ordinary experience at Mugaritz had induced a craving for simple, uncomplicated, regional fare. So rather than being guided by the mighty Michelin we put our faith in the hotel concierge who enthusiastically recommends Kaia – a modest establishment renowned for its fish and seafood situated in a small fishing village named Getaria about an hour by winding coastal road from San Sebastian. A white knuckle ride later and we’re parking the car by the working harbour, climbing a hill and being seduced by fish being grilled over hot charcoals.

Soon after being seated my eyes alight upon a man guzzling down what appear to be little worms. On closer inspection they’re the famous Elvers (baby eels), a Basque speciality and as an intrepid eater something I am determined to try. They arrive in a small clay pot infused with a pungent garlic sauce. I can only assume the taste of the elvers is mild yet the texture is truly distinctive and unique - they have a silky consistency on the tongue and float down the throat with ease. The fish soup elicits equally rapturous applause from my fellow diners who allow me a few mouthfuls of their heavenly broth.

It is the wild turbot, grilled outside over charcoal, for which this restaurant is famed. The waitress proudly shows us the luscious creature sprawled across a silver platter. There is nothing complicated about the preparation, however the freshness and quality of the fish straight from the ocean is almost indescribable in its goodness. We wash it down with some Txakoli, a popular Basque wine which is actually produced in Getaria. It is light and zippy, and has slightly effervescent quality which is ideally matched to the delicate nature of the fish.

Despite the simplicity of the meal it is equally as enjoyable as anything we’d sampled over the last couple of evenings. This is made even sweeter by virtue of the fact that we feel like we have discovered a hidden gem, not yet overrun with tourists. The only other surprising discovery we uncover is when I casually glance at the check and find that the unassuming baby eels cost a mighty 80 Euros. Worth every cent.