There was a soft autumn light which poured itself inside the pub – which is strange given that it is only the beginning of spring. The Calf was eerily quiet, as many places tend to be at this time of the day, but I’ve always found that to be a perk, and it meant we could easily pick whichever part of the pub to accommodate us.
Deciding a good place to brunch is never as easy as TV series would depict, where characters seemingly wake up with divine providence of where to go. Instead, there’s more of a barrage of queries such as “will we even get a table there”, “how far is it”, and, my favorite, “will it have a nice enough bathroom if the detox juice gives me the looseys (I wanted to find a cuter word for diarrhea)?”. Alright, you got me, that last one is actually my sisters favorite question but I like to be inspired.
Getting back to the topic, it’s harder to find a brunch place when one of the questions is “will they let me take pictures of topless men in their restaurant?”
The cabin-like wooden interior, together with the baskets of croissants and madeleines lying about quickly made me think of a chalet when entering tart. Surely enough, chalets aren’t necessarily French but I can’t control my thought processes all that much.
Fluffy pancakes doused with maple syrup, scrumptious eggs on toasts, a delicious floral Earl Grey to go with them all – this is what breakfast dreams are made of. The reality is that most breakfast menus will contain the classical dishes and little more, like muffins or eggs Benedict (not that this is necessarily a bad thing). So whenever a restaurant offers something like “Truffle-infused hollandaise and asparagus” for my Benedicts, it’s an instant choice for what I will order.
For all the excitement that Clapham has become to me (especially given my previous stint in Island Gardens), I must admit that it doesn’t do amazingly in terms of diversity for food. There’s the odd Indian restaurant, quite a few Mexican/Latin American ones, and another shop for Mama Lan! But how does it compare to it’s Brixton sister?
In a world of disruptive technologies such as Airbnb, UBER and now even UBEReats it’s such a great time to be a consumer. Not such a great time for your wallet, mind you, but hey let the shopping spree begin.
It was also time to try out a little bit of latino (food… stop thinking about other things) with Mendoza Square.
As we sat towards the back of Osteria dell’Arte, the skylight at the center of the roof gave way to warm sunshine. The waiters would chatter away in Italian, soft whispers among the wooden tables and chairs. Closing my eyes, I could easily have been transported back to a little restaurant in Rome, a little cafe on an alleyway in Venice. There was authenticity here that pulled you in gently.