Ask, Blake Street

Like Tiffany’s, nothing bad could ever happen to a girl at the York Assembly Rooms. The pillars of rose coloured marble are easy on the eye, erring on the side of kitsch elegance rather than imposing grandeur.

One can imagine Jane Austen types going to balls here, getting all flustered because they had just danced with Colonel Shennanagins and he dared to glance at their ankle. Going on this assumption, a prospective diner might expect teeny tiny parcels of smoked salmon surrounding an ernest guardsman of asparagus, Black Forest gateau for pudding – you get the idea. Sadly, myself and my companion were a little inebriated. However, the waiting staff danced attendance on us in a manner that was nothing short of charming.

We shared a starter of hazelnut pate, which was dense, nutty and so rich that I was absolutely full by the time by ravioli alla pesche arrived. The delicate salmon flavour was complemented by the firmness of the hand made pasta but sadly this was marred by the oiliness of the sauce. My companion ordered the honeycomb cheesecake which I stole. We are no longer on speaking terms but it was so crunchily creamily perfect as to be worth it.

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