Ever being the man on the go and in the know with what’s cool, what’s hot, what’s hip, what’s not … to paraphrase the speakin’ of those chillin’ young folk these days, dude … I believe I have found a place that I too could camp outside of just to get a sample of their supply.
A few days ago I was blithely wandering about Russell Square unawares that I could happen to bump into a crazed homeopath just looking for a reason to justify their silly little diluted religion, – dude, take a Bex and have a good lie down for god sake – I managed to spy a doorway adjacent a little glass window. Such wonders were contained in the glass menagerie. Little pastries of butter and icing sugar. Delicate little cups of tea. But there, in the corner, brooding for attention, stood the espresso machine. Daring me to enter and drink from it’s font.
Oh did I ever.
Ladies and Gentlemen, my search to find a decent cup of the bean in Old London Town has ended. I have cast my last Starbucks into the fiery pits of Mordor, and I have found my undying lands. Well, more of a tiny shop front really.
The crema was golden, the foam fully bodied with not even the hint of froth, the milk embracingly warm. Someone knew what they were doing behind that machine.
Get thyself to The Epsresso Room, in Great Ormond Road, London WC1N 3HZ. And raise a toast to the neighbouring homeopaths all sipping their tasteless water concoctions of nothingness, and watch the ire in there eyes. Just try not to make them too cranky.