Crema versus Crema

Following the new, groovy exodus to Dalston, Time Out gave props for best coffee in London to a little place named after one of my Nana's favourite pictures, must be cool. So I went for one, it didn't take long before a half bearded man/boy with half a haircut turned up, sporting hybrid brogues and tatty striped socks… This must be the place. I was with my mate, we ordered, he had a thing called a piccolo or somat and I had the obvious latte styled, over hyped, flat white. The coffee was expensive, but it was good and they sell 250g packs of it. The food we had however, was not that much kop, we had mackerel with horse radish on chili toast for over a fiver, wilting rocket shivered to the side as it tried to support a slither of pimiento. It was ok.

W2N2- Could I buy coffee ground for a stove top please?
TWSY- What? Oh, we do beans only mate.
W2N2- Could you grind a pack for me please?
TWSU- No. Have you not got a grinder mate?
W2N2- Yes, but it's one of those with blades that hacks the beans up???
I heard they're not that good, best to have it done by one of them grinders you have there.
TWSY- Oh, sorry mate.

There's somat missing from this place. Soul?

Meanwhile, on a different day, I'm south in Brixton, it's real, and I prefer it. Rosie served up a similar pair of coffees to the other gaff, cheaper in price, but not quite as good. Although, the coffees were far more enjoyable in unpretentious surroundings. It feels genuine and honest here as you sit within an array of deli products and interesting bits and bobs, obviously collected over the years. A modest menu on the wall makes tasty reading, causing a period of indecision. I had scrambled eggs on wholemeal toast with chili jam, mega!