In 1999, aged ten, I received a fax whilst on a school trip to France. My sister had given birth to a baby girl, Ava. The letter was handwritten by my mother and I read it excitedly as my friends huddled around me. I was an auntie and for the first time in my life I had something that no one else had – and for perhaps the last time, I was (for a moment) considered cool.
18 years later, we celebrated Ava’s birthday at the Parlour in Kensal Rise. I told the fax story over a crisp glass of Picpoul and salt baked chicken. Ava’s boyfriend asked me what a fax was and I suddenly felt ancient by comparison. We spent the entire afternoon sat in the main bar at a long table for 12 – laughing, drinking and reminiscing.
Everyone opted for a variety of roasts; venison, beef and of course the salt baked chicken. Each as scrumptious as the last, with lashings of gravy, huge fluffy Yorkshire puddings and of course buttery veg. Only one person broke the mould with chicken kiev with slaw. We finished our meal with cake (as one must) and espresso martinis – I highly recommend this combination.
The Parlour is a place for celebration. The space is light and airy, the staff are incredibly accommodating and made no objection when my sister covered the table with glitter and balloons, insisting her daughter was turning 12 and never 18! Every other table was filled with groups of families, all celebrating their own occasions, giving the whole place a contagious sense of joy.