Time to hit the Tiroler Hut

This review was first published in November 2000

For the past 33 years, Joseph Friedman has been wowing customers with his legendary cowbell show. Tragically, the night we visited he was unwell, so no music. Devastated, we made do with the Sound Of Music soundtrack and found ourselves crooning The Lonely Goatherd towards the end. (Okay, so a few schnapps had been taken.) Leave any sense of refinement at the door - this bonkers spot pays homage to excessive Alpine kitsch, seemingly directed by David Lynch.

A Tuesday night was quiet - it gets riotous at weekends - but you're so overwhelmed by Heidi-type artefacts that it provides its own atmosphere. The staff, cruelly compelled to wear 'authentic' Tirolean outfits, are also utterly welcoming and ooze charm. Vegetarians beware: the menu is mainly composed of various bits of pig; my main course, Bauernschmauss, contained most of them - two sorts of sausage (one painfully mutilated in the name of decoration), smoked roast pork, regular roast pork, Speck, sauerkraut and a cricket ball of stodge masquerading as a bread dumpling.

It was all fine in an earthy peasant kind of way, but proved too much for me (something to do, perhaps, with the moreish cheese fondue I'd shared as a 'starter'). My more stalwart date polished off succulent bratwurst with magnificent sauté potatoes, plus a home-made strudel. We drank loads (this verges on the compulsory) and paid about £30 a head. All together now: 'Eidelweiss.'

Tiroler Hut
Westbourne Grove, London, W2 4UA