This is the last review from Matt and Cat's visit to London. See earlier reviews of Elliot's and Prufrock Coffee.

What a day - Matt and Cat had been whisked around London, relished some great food and drink, and seen some wonderful sights.

The provincial unsophisticates really enjoyed the big city; especially in comfort from the back of a black taxi. The final stop on their tour was the highlight - a visit to Hawksmoor, the celebrated steakhouse over which critics have raved and drooled.

Meat. It’s a simple thing, an atavistic thing, and somehow an emotional thing. Meat arouses emotion in us in a way that other food does not. Some choose to forswear it entirely. Most don’t. Of those who do eat meat, if you ask them for their favourite dish, there’s a pretty good chance that it would not only be meat, but beef. And of those who would favour beef, how many would choose a really good steak as their top meal? In this country, it really is the number one favourite dish (although, surprisingly, not in America). So when somebody sets out to cook the best steak in London, what they probably mean is that it's the best steak in the world. And, in such a crowded market, it better had be. Hawksmoor’s massive success suggests that they may actually have achieved this remarkable feat.

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Visit the website: http://www.thehawksmoor.co.uk/

This is the second review from Matt and Cat's visit to London. See earlier review of Elliot's here.

Being a tourist in London can be exhausting; the endless slack-jawed pointing and over-stimulation can quickly deplete one's energy reserves. Some visitors burden themselves with supplies of squashed sarnies and emergency bananas but when travelling light - as Matt and Cat did - help is at hand with the resurgence of the coffee house. First hitting these shores in the seventeenth century, and reaching a peak of popularity in the 1950s, such venues continue to provide cheap, warm places for people to congregate and refresh themselves.

In the self-aware twenty-first century, Cliff Richard’s moody teen of Expresso Bongo is a distant memory (although remarkably Cliff is as sprightly as he was back in the day). In today's coffee bar, instead of a space-hungry jukebox, music insinuates its way out of a matchbook-size iPod Shuffle. In place of a well-thumbed copy of Kerouac’s ‘On the Road’, hipsters flick through virtual pages on their Kindles. Of course, some things prevail; people still engage in conversation, albeit with someone they’ve never met, on the other side of the world, through the medium of their wifi-enabled MacBook Air.

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Visit the website: http://www.prufrockcoffee.com

Although Matt and Cat have explored all corners of the Isle of Wight, they’re not particularly adventurous travellers otherwise.

Cat’s experiences of foreign parts are limited to various budget trips to European cities, eating frugal picnic lunches in public parks and worrying about running out of francs. Yes, her last foray abroad was before the introduction of the Euro. Matt actually left Europe once, but it was last millennium, and he has not shown any sign of wanting to repeat the experience.

Matt and Cat fantasise about visiting a city with style; swapping flophouses for luxury hotels, and giving up aimless blundering to enjoy a tour with a native guide. One day M&C’s wish was granted. It just so happened that they were offered the chance of a curated trip round some of London’s eateries with a knowledgeable sherpa, a chap who happened to own a fashionable London coffeehouse. Such an opportunity was not to be missed. With a fourth Island gastronaut in tow, they took an cockerel-startling early train to Waterloo, empty stomachs at the ready.

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Visit the website: http://www.elliotscafe.com

On a day trip to Portsmouth, Matt and Cat built up a decent appetite shopping at Karen Millen for a party dress for The Cat.

An eager shop assistant presented Cat with an optimistically-sized dress which, apparently, she could diet into. She was then offered the next size up, which was too baggy. "Never mind", suggested Matt, forever seeing the best of any situation and reflecting the shop girl’s earlier advice, "you can eat your way into it!". With Matt’s sage advice ringing in Cat’s ears, they went to Jamie’s Italian to start the fattening process.

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Cambridge is an odd place in many ways - mostly good ways.

One thing Matt and Cat noticed during their visit is that, as tourists and British subjects, they were very much in the minority. Visitors are thick on the ground in Cambridge, and come from all nations. So the shops in Cambridge don't just sell college scarves and postcards of punts. No, you can buy beefeater t-shirts, models of London buses, Scottish kilts and shortbread. Matt was even bumped into by two gesticulating French girls who were arguing over a guide book entitled 'Londres'. One suspects that they needed considerable guidance.

A hugely popular shop is the alarming emporium called The Disney Store. This sells exactly the sort of thing you might expect it to. M&C passed it by with a shudder - but suddenly it came to mind as they were queueing for a third time to seek admission to Jamie's Italian: a restaurant under the name of TV chef Jamie Oliver that has been open for just over a year in a former public library in the heart of Cambridge.

Matt and Cat had failed to get a table twice (you can't book unless for a party of six or more), and were starting to worry. Neither of them had ever watched the mockney cook on the television, nor did they know anything about this restaurant other than that everyone else wanted to go in there. Had they made a horrible mistake? Was this going to be a Jamie theme park? Would they find the culinary equivalent of The Disney Shop - all superficiality and artifice, intended to appeal to foreign tourists and TV show enthusiasts? Well, it was their night to find out, as finally the metaphorical velvet rope was held aside, and they were offered a table in the cavernous old municipal building.

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Visit the website: http://www.jamieoliver.com/italian/