A cafe opened at the end of my road recently. I knew I was going to like it. Possibly because it’s an unpretentious looking place with not a stupid cupcake in site, possibly because when I finally made it there the other day they were closed for a week because they’d gone to Glastonbury.
My kind of girls. There was a huge picture of the two of them in the window, loaded up and ready to go to the festival, one wearing knickers and sturdy boots. Even better. These are not the kind of ladies to be found standing at a pink magimix wearing tea dresses and vintage-inspired hairstyles, baking pretty chocolate cakes and ‘luscious treats for girly nights in!!!’
And thank bollocks for that.
Katie and Kim seem far more likely to be pulling mint out of the ground, sizzling free-range chorizo and cultivating their sourdough starter. Everything about their cafe is a delight, from the long uneven table of reclaimed wood that runs down the centre to their Eccles cakes which are unparalleled. In fact so good I nearly wept. Squidgy; rich; perfectly balanced.
I had a courgette, mint and ewe’s curd thing on sourdough and also ate more than my fair share of The Man’s chorizo thing; a gloriously colourful (not to mention feckin’ delicious) concoction served on a milk bun. Oh and I also tried our friend’s toasted cheese scone with perfect eggs trembling on top, which was as close to sex as a cheese scone could get. (As you might have noted by now, I am no food reviewer.)