Some brunches go heavy on eggs and bacon, while others veer far into lunch territory, forgoing favorites like pancakes and omelets. Midtown’s Brasserie Azur, the sister restaurant of South Beach’s Villa Azur, is a balance of both.
The brasserie-and-rotisserie concept — known for its casual atmosphere equipped with a foosball table — brings a fusion of French and Mediterranean dining to Miami. Many restaurants in France are known for eclectic menus, often blending fried-egg concoctions and steak frites with more elaborate dishes such as escargots and foie gras.

Brasserie Azur channels that French inspiration into its weekend brunch, offered every Saturday and Sunday. Brunch at the midtown eatery is immediately followed by a weekend happy hour, giving diners a chance to snag a few items off both menus.
As with the restaurant’s lunch and dinner menus, rotisserie chicken gets its own section on the brunch list. A whole bird to share starts at $33 for a plain farm-raised chicken to $38 for a truffle-marinated variation. Roasted for about 32 hours, each chicken is served with fingerling potatoes; sides include homemade French fries (which can be drizzled with truffle oil), roasted mushrooms ($8), and sautéed spinach ($8).

To wash it down, there’s rosé, as well as bottomless mimosas ($25) and prosecco ($35), both available for up to two hours. Specials continue through happy hour, which begins at 4 p.m., including $1 oysters and $5 cocktails. Brunch starts at 11 a.m. Saturday and Sunday.


For more information, visit


Brasserie Azur Brings Mediterranean Fusion Brunch to Midtown (4)


Welcome to Scotland’s inaugural Prestige Hotel Awards, created to showcase and reward outstanding service within the hotel industry. Voted for by the public this independent, non-political platform is completely free to take part in. There is no membership fee or detailed registration process; it takes only 30 seconds to start your journey to becoming award winning!

We are calling for the public to vote for their favourite venues and the exemplary staff that have left a lasting impression on Scottish holiday goers. The top voted venues in each category will be short-listed and invited to our Grand Gala Final, taking place at the Glasgow Hilton on Sunday 19th February 2017.




15. Ananda in the Himalayas, Narendra Nagar Tehri – Garhwal, India

You can’t get much closer to nirvana than Ananda in the Himalayas—after all, it sits in the far northern reaches of India, at the foothills of the Himalayan mountain range, near the birthplace of the ancient arts of yoga, meditation, and Ayurveda (a form of alternative healing that touts a perfect harmony between mind and body for optimal health). The resort takes this legacy pretty seriously: Its holistic approach to wellness combines both Eastern and Western healing tactics—Ayurveda and aromatherapy treatments are at your disposal, as is a 24,000-square-foot, 24-treatment room-spa that near-guarantees a restorative experience—and the fresh air and 100 acres of forest don’t seem to hurt, either. Get your yoga on in the winter garden, overlooking a dense, leafy grove of Sal trees, then follow up the sweat session with a purifying whole body therapy, or give the steam room and temperature-controlled outdoor lap pool a try. We can already hear you exhaling.

Courtesy IHHR Hospitality


This time, lifestyle-seekers have it right: Margot restaurant reviewed

Great Queen Street will always be thrilling for a Spooks fan. It just got a little better

7 January 2017

Margot is an Italian restaurant on Great Queen Street in the still interesting part of Covent Garden. The uninteresting part is the piazza, once the first classical square in London but now a shopping district so devoted to famous brands that it is essentially Westfield in WC2, and WC2 has no need of it, already having a superior culture of its own. Even so, I expect some day to find St Paul’s church a smouldering pile of ash waiting for an Audi concession. Margot used to be Moti Mahal, an unlamented Indian restaurant next to Freemasons’ Hall, which posed as MI5 in Spooks, a BBC drama in which a one-nation Tory called Harry repeatedly saves the city from apocalypse with his one-nation Tory goodness. (Those who call the BBC Marxist propagandists don’t watch Spooks, or any of the royal coverage.) I am so devoted to Spooks I cannot approach Margot without a thrilling sense of peril.

Margot is from Paulo de Tarso and Nicolas Jaouën. They look like men who look have walked off a David Beckham Emporio Armani pants advertising hoarding. They are very handsome if you like that sort of thing; that is, men with blinding white pants laughing at squid. They met at Scott’s in Mayfair, which serves baby food to ageing celebrities; they have also worked at Balthazar, again in Covent Garden, and the Wolseley. They are front-of-house men and their native habitat is beautiful restaurants. Margot, therefore, is beautiful in its pale Victorian box; it had to be. The staff are equally handsome. They wear tuxedos — and not ironically — and the website is essentially a photograph of two models in black tie sitting on a white motorcycle with the spindly promise of spindly model sex. There is also a photograph of a bellboy staring out a dachshund, but I cannot divine its subliminal message; I have tried. Perhaps the dachshund is Margot.


Even so, I do not judge Margot for pretending its clients are more attractive than they are. Margot is not selling salami, not really; you can get salami at Lidl these days. It is selling that incalculable thing called lifestyle, and they will pay £100 a head with wine for the scent of it. I distrust lifestyle-seekers because I suspect they do not know what they want, and so must ask their gurus, which are advertising hoardings. At Margot, though, they triumph, for it is an excellent restaurant.

The interior is brown, it is true, but it is not a terrible brown. (The decorating company Fabled Studio, which designed Margot, also did Heston Blumenthal’s Dinner, which is too brown. The line between good brown and devastating brown is narrow.) Its brownness declares it is, essentially, a man’s restaurant: a mix of booths and banquettes with good art, good lighting and good service. There is a silver breadstick holder with a dachshund’s head on the table.


The chef is Maurizio Morelli, formerly the chef-patron of Latium in Fitzrovia. Margot’s current rivals in London are Savini at the Criterion, a haunted grey restaurant, and Sartoria in Savile Row, which is just grey.

We eat a plate of pecorino di fossa and a fennel-flavoured salami, both as good as you will find in the city; then an exquisite Cornish crab salad; a couscous salad with pomegranate, buffalo mozzarella and tomato which is, miraculously, not wet but wondrous; a fine risotto of mixed mushroom; and — as tribute to The Godfather, who would never come here, because it features whimsical tableware, and he is a fictional character — some cannoli. (‘Leave the gun, take the cannoli.’) The portions are not vast; we are not stupefied or poisoned with carbohydrate, which is a danger in lesser Italian restaurants with their weaponised bread baskets; we leave content.

Margot, Great Queen Street, London WC2B 5AA, tel: 020 3409 4777.


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