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Ginger and White

On Saturday we had a lovely, leisurely meander across the heath to Ginger and White in Hampstead. Hampstead is not short of cafes but a disturbing proportion of these are French-style patisserie chains, the kind where the people serving have dodgy fake French accents. Ginger and White is an all together more authentic experience. A Brit/Aussie collaboration, it aims to be a British place serving excellent coffee and good, locally sourced food.

The cafe itself is tiny but well laid out with a cosy sofa cubby hole, a row of seats along the window and a large wooden table that was spread with newspapers and couples searching for privacy at opposite corners. Old chapel chairs, rustic water jugs and earthy crockery gave the place a natural, slightly retro feel.

The long black was smooth with a good crema although I have to say that even for Hampstead it was expensive. I have no desire to consume a ridiculous pint-sized concoction but the long black was about half a small cappuccino cup and Ian’s latte was a miniature tumbler at £2.30 a go. Still, we were swayed by the cakes which were utterly divine: a light but deeply chocolatey chocolate cake and a clementine and almond cake that was soft and sweetly tangy.

The food menu looked good too but after the Lantana experience I can’t help wondering if Ginger and White is big enough for its grand culinary ambitions. Coffee and cake is enough for me so we sat for a while, watching the tiny witches and wizards of Hampstead go by. It was Halloween afterall and a huge pumpkin adorned the communal table, smiling through its orange teeth.

Ginger and White 
4a-5a Perrins Court, Hampstead, London, NW3 1QS

Lantana

We went to Lantana with high expectations.  Opened by Australian Shelagh Ryan about a year ago, it was recently crowned Best New Cafe by Time Out and the fancy website promised Monmouth coffee and fabulous brunch offerings.  It seemed a great place to catch up with our friend Katy in a slow, Saturday morning kind of way.  Unfortunately however everyone else had had the same idea.  The place was heaving with well-dressed, young things and Antipodean accents bubbled over the music.

Thankfully we were lucky and within five minutes we were seated at stools in the large, open window.  The stools are higher than the rest of the cafe, which steps down from the pavement, making a nice break between outside and inside.  It’s a stylish restrained place, with a lot of plywood and a patterned, insect-filled wall that adds a playful touch (albeit in an appropriately restrained monotone).

(apologies for the blurry pictures... I forgot my camera and these were the best my old phone could manage)

Ian and I both ordered eggs (mine scrambled with mushrooms, Ian’s poached with extra bacon).  Katy had toast with avocado and vegemite.  The food was okay but I was left wishing I’d tried one of the more unusual options on the menu and the scrambled egg was far too dry for my tastes.  The little macchiato however was superb and Ian’s chai latte was beautifully spiced and sweetened with a tiny jug of honey on the side.

In many ways Lantana is the kind of place that usually appeals to me.  The calm interior, the Monmouth coffee, jugs of tap water, newspapers on the table... but something about it just didn’t work.  It didn’t feel relaxed.  There were no smiles from the staff and I frequently felt like we were in their way.  I know we were there on a Saturday but I can’t help thinking that it’s a victim of its own success.  We left through a crowd of vulture-like socialites pushing forward for our table and it was a relief to get out into the open street.

Lantana
13 Charlotte Place, Fitzrovia, London, W1T 1SN

Michelle’s Magical Cupcake Emporium

The jury’s back out on cupcakes.

Earlier this week my colleague Michelle arrived at work with a box of home-baked creations, dainty little things with rainbow sprinkles. I eyed them suspiciously in their pretty paper cases, trying not to be taken in by their good looks. The thing is Michelle has a cake-baking reputation. A founder of the Cake Club at work, she makes amazingly decadent things. Her last contribution was a towering chocolate layer cake that sat dangerously close to my desk for much of its short life.

So the cupcakes just had to be tasted, and tasted there and then whilst I still had a long black from Gwilym Davies’ coffee cart steaming in its paper cup. Hesitantly I peeled back the case and took my first bite. A perfect balance of vanilla and butter and sweetness, it was deliciously moist. Not bland or dry. Not cloyingly sweet. It just came together perfectly in a mouthful of goodness.

Sadly though, you can’t try one. They’re all gone. And until Michelle finally gives into the hungry masses and opens her Magical Cupcake Emporium to the world you will just have to imagine. Or make your own of course (I’m told the secret is organic ingredients and an American recipe).

Gwlym’s Davies’ coffee cart, on the other hand, is fully open for business at the Whitecross Street market on weekdays from about 8am till 2pm. Gwilym, who recently won the World Barista Championships, is rarely seen but the other baristas there generally do a great job, pulling a rich dark espresso from Square Mile beans.

Primrose Bakery

What better excuse for a mid-week coffee than a girly catch-up over cupcakes? The Primrose Bakery is a delightfully dainty shop that beckons you in from the dark with the glow of a pink neon sign. The only problem is that once in there’s very little space to sit. We hovered uncertainly till a nice man let us share his table.

There’s a retro American feel to this place and with all the pastel shades I couldn’t help thinking there should be ice cream. Ice cream sundaes, ice cream floats and girls in fabulous 1950s dresses fluttering their eyelashes. Then the tea came with a decidedly English floral Burleigh milk jug and I noticed there were rather English roses brightening the table.



The cupcakes didn’t quite live up to expectations for me. We had a lemon and a rose one to share. Both cakes were a little too dry and although the lemon icing was wonderfully tangy the rose could have done with being just a little more rose. Still, I couldn’t help but buy two tiny chocolate ones to take home. They were just so pretty...

With Hope and Greenwood down the road this part of Covent Garden is a perfect sweet treat and it was refreshing to find somewhere that was open after 6pm. For me though the Primrose Bakery lacked the cosiness that feminine retro can have and I can’t help feeling that it was all a little style over substance. Perhaps I’m just not a cupcake kind of girl.

Primrose Bakery
42 Tavistock Street, London, WC2E 7PB

Nordic Bakery

After Flat White this place was calm, super calm. A wonderfully big window floods the space with light and lets the trees in. The blue wall makes me think of deep water and northern skies. There’s wood, lot’s of wood, but not in an overpowering sauna kind of way. And then there’s the smell – the cinnamon bun smell that fills the place with spiced wintery warmth.

I ordered chamomile tea and a little nibble of smoked salmon on dark rye bread. It seemed to go with the calmness of this place. Ian had tea and a Karelian pie, which turns out to be a creamy, potato-topped morsel. Both appeared on pale green trays, big enough to hold both food and cup. We could have done with a fork but one was provided when we asked and the salmon was delicious.

This place is a showcase of Finnish design: Aalto chairs, Ittala crockery. Everything is simple and understated and yet somehow it manages to feel warm and homely. Perhaps it’s the cinnamon buns rushed from the kitchen in tea towel lined baskets. Ian was quick to bring two back to the table and lick up the cinnamon sugar that oozed onto the plate. We could have stayed all day.

Nordic Bakery
14a Golden Square, London, W1F 9JG

Flat White

It took us a long time to drag ourselves out of bed this morning and by the time we reached Flat White we were in desperate need of nourishment. The door of the shop has a self-closing mechanism to keep out the autumnal cold and I loved the seemingly slapdash way it had been weighted with cups. I had a brief panic when we opened it and took in the tiny space within but suddenly there was a table free and Ian made a run for it whilst I ordered.

There’s a black leatherette bench wrapping round the edge of the room and stools from Unto this last (a great little Brick Lane workshop). Bare glowing filament bulbs hang above the counter and the crockery is basic and somehow slightly school days (oval metal plates, standard tumblers, white cappuccino cups). The whole thing was very 60s, very Soho: scrawny, stylish folk in black T-shirts being nudged from hangovers by caffeine and James Brown playing loudly.

The coffees and food came fairly swiftly. Ian has been a latte man for some time but the flat white hit the spot with its creamy texture and strength. The macchiato was also good and strong, there was a slight bitter edge but it melted away with the banana bread. And the banana bread was good: heavenly smooth and thoroughly warmed.

By the time we left we were awake and ready to face the slightly seedy Soho world. Berwick Street is a great little place, so completely different from the nearby mass commercialism of Oxford Street. There are a number of fabric shops as well as several other cafes, all heaving with a Saturday brunch crowd. The street’s best known though for its fruit and veg. market and most of the stalls were using lovely old Victorian-style carts.

Flat White
17 Berwick Street, Soho, London, W1F 0PT