Last night I braved my local highstreet intent, not on staying in, but braving my lack of language and indeed alphabetical knowledge to get something other than a European meal.

I wanted meat Russian style and I knew it !

But here was the catch. After 30 minutes of walking around and beseiged by a fearsome array of illuminated and flashing signs I was unable to discern what lay behind them. Windows are often either blacked out or papered over and there are no handy menus to pick from. Was it a 24 hour techno club, a strip bar or a fine restaurant ?

So I grasped the nettle with a bar that I could at least see served beer (and that is an international word wherever one travels!). It opened out to become a full Metro theme bar - the Soviet underground recreated before me.

I spied an escalator going down, dodged the guard standing at the top by wagging a single finger and pointing at my chest - which I hope conveyed the sense of 'there's only me, I won't take up much space' to be greeted by the most wonderful scene.

Carriages, signs, stained glass, chocolate brown couches and booths. Heaven !

Then came the true challenge. Beer was delivered alongside a menu.

No pictures.
All writing in cyrillic.

Ooops.

I reached into my bag for the guidebook I had been lent confidently turning to the section at the back containing simple words and translations. This section, the one guaranteed part of every guidebook wasn't there. Nothing. So I plucked the only Russian food I could think of out of the air and with a grin repeated 'Stroganoff' until my waitress understood.

Was it worth it ?

It was magnificent.

Next week watch this space. I'm going to try for dessert as well !