I seem to be rather obsessed with going down memory lane lately, with another post that plunges me back into the depths of my youth and makes me remember kindergarten. Mind you, I did go to kindergarten in Eastern Europe, next to a decrepit building where, all the kids could tell you wholeheartedly, a witch lived – so whether this association is good or bad can be left to the imagination.
Etched into memory from that night was my trip to the toilet – and it wasn’t even the stained glass in the cubicle. As I went to the sink, a gentleman appeared, opened the faucets, poured soap in my hands, handed me a towel and closed the faucets for me. It was rather odd, and it was unfortunate that the food wasn’t nearly as memorable.
Boxpark in Shoreditch is a great place to be at, especially now that the sun has graced us with its presence after aeons of rain, given all the myriad of small shops and restaurants that exist there. A DJ was playing the regular dutz dutz dutz as we casually entered Dum Dums Donutterie for some mouth watering dessert.
As “ice-cream” rolled off the imaginary tongue of my mind, thoughts of warm halcyon days arose, equipped with the generic flavoured frozen water we call gelato. Few understand the full potential that ice-cream can have within gastronomy, with notable names such as Heston Blumenthal being one, but it seems Mantovani 1946 also understand that this can truly be an art.
Lola’s Cupcakes, sat snugly in a little corner near Waitrose, is, admittedly, a sign of the much needed sugar the Wharf requires – more in the idea of energy rather than making up for the general bitterness. It also reminds me of Cupcake Central in Melbourne so maybe there is a trend with strategically placing these things.
The gelato place is simple, and small, as they tend to be. Blue sofas, at times adorned with the markings of previous customers, sit there lonely, in quiet waiting, for the next people to offer them company.