As you may have guessed, I am of the firm belief that a girl has to eat. By that I mean good food. Hopefully of the gloriously delicious kind: the kind so wondrously tasty, so mouth-wateringly yummy, so tantalisingly good that on first contact with your taste buds it stops you dead in your tracks and sends you immediately to high heaven.
At Floridita’s (a bar-cum-club-cum-restaurant), one gets the sense that it isn’t the kind of place that is about the food one eats. Floridita regularly showcases live Cuban bands, flown in all the way from Havana, that churn out sexy, sultry, seductive tunes. Lots of guys and gals float around the bar, downing copious amounts cocktails (starting from £7.50) and other beverages of the alcoholic kind. Those that are deft at salsa dancing demonstrate their spicy Latino moves to the beat of the hypnotic Cuban rhythms. And for those who don’t make it onto the dance floor early on in the evening, as the night wears on some inhibitions are invariably lost, and the dance floor becomes a concentrated mesh of human flesh. In the context of this setting as backdrop, it therefore seems rather appropriate to paraphrase my favourite saying to describe the kind of intentions at Floridita: “men are meat”, and yes, yes, “a girl has to eat”.