By the time Folly & Feast Vol. 6 rolled around, the Ando Living rooftop felt almost like a second home — a place where Sundays stretched out lazily over the river and where regulars knew exactly which table caught the best breeze. This edition carried a different kind of anticipation though: the final roast before autumn, a gentle farewell to the cooler‑weather lunches that have become part of the Folly & Feast rhythm.
Once again, Ali Bilton took charge of the kitchen, moving with the quiet focus of someone who has cooked in more demanding rooms than she’ll ever admit. There’s a particular comfort in her food — not nostalgic exactly, but grounded, confident, and always just a little more refined than the word “roast” suggests.
Guests arrived to the familiar opening ritual:
1995 Carcavelos Bloody Marys, savoury and warming, or the first pour of the new Sonhador Rosé 2025, bright and lifted, a glimpse of the season ahead. The choice split the room neatly — half easing into the afternoon with a gentle rosé, half deciding that a fortified‑wine Bloody Mary was the only sensible way to begin.
The starter set a completely different tone from previous editions: a chilled pea and mint soup, cool and green and quietly aromatic, topped with yogurt, mint‑marinated prawns, rocket and mint oil. It tasted like spring in a bowl — fresh, clean, and just playful enough. Sonhador Branco 2024 brought citrus and lift, sharpening the edges of the dish without overwhelming its softness.
Then came the roast — and if this was the last one until autumn, it certainly didn’t hold back.
Roast rib‑eye of beef, deeply savoury and perfectly rested, surrounded by roast parsnips, roast potatoes, braised red cabbage, carrots, green beans and Yorkshire puddings that rose proudly from the plate. It was generous, abundant, and unmistakably Ali. Sonhador Tinto 2020 stepped in with its bright fruit and gentle structure, the kind of red that knows how to sit comfortably alongside a plate full of Sunday classics.
Dessert was a quiet triumph: a pistachio and raspberry frangipane tart with vanilla ice cream, the kind of sweet that feels both celebratory and understated. And because some traditions deserve to be kept intact, the Carcavelos 1995 returned once more — amber, elegant, and perfectly suited to the pistachio richness and berry sharpness.
As the afternoon drifted on, the rooftop took on a slightly different mood than usual — not melancholy, but touched with that soft, end‑of‑season glow. People lingered a little longer, savoured their last bites a little more slowly, and looked out over the river as if storing the view for later. Ali moved through the tables with her usual calm, and the whole lunch felt like a gentle closing chapter rather than a finale.
Folly & Feast will return in autumn, of course. But Vol. 6 felt like a reminder of why these lunches matter: good food cooked with care, wines that bring the table together, and a rooftop that somehow makes everything taste a little better.
