We push the elegant velvet gold curtains aside and saunter in.
Tonight Matthew we're going to be 10 years younger and cool as a cucumber.
It's 6.45pm at Strakers and the party is in full swing.
The relaxed, confident maitre d' guides us to our table which, if you attached a postage stamp to the corner, could be sent to Dundee for about £1.50.
Ibiza chill out vibes blare out from the system behind the bar not two meters from where we sit.
I ask if he's got any pills. If they kick in after the food we've heard so much about, this is going to be a banging night.
Our waitress thinks we're telepathic. She asks if we've decided what we want before we've read the menu. I guess when the food is getting such rave reviews a menu isn't necessary and indeed we oblige by ordering the flatbreads we've heard so much about.
Every table is taken and at such an ungodly hour. My porridge has barely gone down and yet here I am ordering delightfully conceived medium sized sharing plates of unctuous stuff. The menu is small. Four or five choices in each section, but each one sounds as intriguing as it does delicious.
Our waitress refers to us as 'darlings' every time she approaches. "Now darlings, have you decided on your food?" She's the most bizarre combination of laid back and on it all in one. Her mission: get us in and out like it's Entebbe. Her modus operandi: relaxed as hell. It's a charming combo. Being called darling by someone as cool and young as her is rather a thrill and it fits with the beach vibe. If they put a sand box under each table and I closed my eyes we could be at Pacha.
Eyes open it doesn't disappoint. It's small and there's a smart/rustic feel. It's narrow and you're packed in but it creates a real buzz. Some nice touches. A fresh pose of herbs on each table. Oil burners as the sun goes down. Golborne Rd has always been Bohemia in West London and Strakers fits that bill. It's what makes this area so enduringly seductive. Step outside and Trellick Tower looms. I grew up not two roads away. My mum hated Trellick Tower. A shrine to urban ugliness. I love it. And I love that, here, one moment you are in its shadow, the next you're chowing with the in crowd. Who no doubt now all live in Trellick tower.
We had asked for a table at the back. We were denied. We were perfectly happy where we were but it's nice to know that it was only Ellie Goulding who denied us. We imagine she wasn't being quite as rushed but we still think she was a darling.
That famous flatbread first. Good chewy pizza base smothered in some sort of fishy butter with green and mussels dotted here and there. And a delightfully seared scallop sliced in four so we could enjoy a piece on each quarter.
The rest comes when it comes - and it comes quick, There's plenty of rearranging to be done to get it to fit the table.
Langoustines in a wonderfully rich and powerful broth of its own making.
Lamb sweetbreads with crispy onions and hen of the wood. Generous and another punchy sauce.
Burrata with mandolined courgette, lemon zest, roasted tomato and a good quality olive oil.
These were all starters and all delicious.
The main that came before we had time to get half way through the starters was crab tagliolini and it continued the theme of rustic deliciousness.
We had no need for more food but we ordered bread because the remnants of each plate needed to be in a body not a dishwasher.
At some point the lights were dimmed and the music actually got louder. Straker doesn't do things by halves. The food and the ambience are full on.
"Darlings can I get you pudding?" This as I'm mopping up the remnants of the langoustine stock with the last crumb of sourdough.
We decide yes, not because we aren't fully sated, more that we want to stay here longer and the only way we aren't getting levered out is if there's food on the table.
We eat donuts as slowly as their deliciousness will allow. The rhubarb compote a delightful accompaniment.
The wine list is small but seems well considered and the most expensive will set you back £60. A Gavi di Gavi that was robust enough for everything it accompanied. Our waitress topped us up regularly and wasn't afraid to finish the bottle by chucking too much into our final glasses. We get it. It's a small place and they are turning tables quickly to maximise profit. Besides, everyone should be able to enjoy a piece of this. It's just, they could be a bit less obvious is all.
And so to the bill. Food this good is not cheap. And we were happy. But ready yourself for a couple of things. The scallop that topped our flatbread was a supplement of £12. The sourdough mop - a slice of bread halved - was £4. It didn't ruin the night in the slightest. Money well spent in fact. Lighter of pocket, younger of heart. As we stepped out of the shadow of Trellick Tower towards home we felt Ladbroke Grove was, after a few years of laying low, starting to beat its bohemian chest again. read more