I feel as though whilst it is still fresh in my mind that i have to tell you about yesterdays food inspired trip to the big city which is London. Given that most well connected food bloggers, cookery book writers and food stylists hail from here and its surrounding areas most of you will already know about the vibrant plethora of eateries and establishments of such like in this area, in fact we can all too often get swept away with the magically enhanced images and the romantically ( or viciously ) written words of such folk who are often scouring the city for the newest restaurant opening or looking for the next big food fad that may well take over the hugely accredited cupcake in popularity.
I am all too often one of those people that laps this kind of stuff up, scanning twitter for the most well - known names in the food blogger industry and vivaciously absorbing their tales of their latest food inspired travels or recommendations on whats most fashionable to eat. Reading these popular posts sometimes makes me feel like an outsider desperate to fit in in a community that I know nothing about. Day to day life is filled with the kinds of things i would expect to read in a food based fictional novel. Not only do they visit far and wide to give us an account of the most amazing and eye popping food experiences available but they can often be found blogging about new pop - up restaurants, 15 course visually exciting tasting menus and the latest way to make the non foodie public give offal a standing ovation.
Yet without these informative and pictorial accounts the food industry would surely not be as thriving as it is now, although i cant help but think that whilst these extra plated supplements of foodie goings on in the south help me to escape to a place where I imagine myself to be having breakfast at The Wolseley and then dining at The Ledbury for a long dreamy lunch, i am being distracted from all of the things that really interest me, the things that make me me and not someone I'm pretending to be.
For that reason after weeks of pre - planning, drawn out days spent day dreaming and hours spent sat blankly at my computer screen researching the entire accumulative collection of London eateries I decided that there were two destinations that were a must, after that i would just follow my instincts and hope that they wouldn't lead me astray from my newly empowering intentions.
Arriving at Euston at 9am made for the perfect time for heading to my first destination of the great Borough Market, the husband and I reckoned we had around an hour before the crowds descended and we were becoming more intimate than we would of liked with our other passionate market goers, shuffling nose to tail from stall to stall. Stallholders had time to talk, time to explain with great animation the love and respect that goes into their products. My first encounter of this was at Une Normande A Londres, a french cheese and charcuterie stall which sold the most fragrant and picturesque french cheeses. The owners took great attention when asking me what i was looking for but even I didn't know what i was looking for with so many hunks of french cheese on array. After finding out about my likes and dislikes the cheeky young french man who served me had made my decision for me, a fresh young goats cheese which looked only just able to withstand its own weight due to its luxurious centre of creamy curds, I left the stall not disappointed.
With such a cornucopia of ingredients its difficult not to walk around in a hypnotic state, lingering at the pitches, dreaming up recipes for the fresh produce that lays before your eyes, two Monmouth coffees and a Brindisa chorizo roll later we set our focus straight once more before leaving to our next destination.
Separation anxiety is inevitable when leaving such products like the smooth fruity olive oil from De Calabria and the cricket ball sized ripe tomatoes from The tomato stall but time was getting tight and the energizingly colourful Brixton Market wasn't going to wait much longer for us.
Arriving out of the tube station to the sound of a steel band immediately puts you at ease and gives you a minuscule insight into the variation of worldly themes brixton market encapsulates so well. This time there was no need to linger ( well maybe a bit! ) I had an agenda and i was trying my hardest to to detract from it.
On entering Brixton Village its not hard to imagine your somewhere else. Sun beaming through the glass roof glistening against the pastel coloured walls it becomes once more impossible to keep your concentration.
The once uncared for Granville arcade makes me realise just why our own indoor market stalls up north are unloved and unpopular. The energy that runs through this mini empire is vibrant and enlightening, there may be many food outlets but each one is individual and offers something different and unique upon every menu I read. Ready for a small snack break we perched on the rustic chairs of Brixton Cornercopia ordered some amazingly delicate local salami's and soaked up the atmospheric vibe that this covered market had to offer.
Passing back through the original market i couldn't help but stop at the one store which has been calling me (unknowingly) to visit as soon as i got a chance to go to London. Rosie's Deli is another hidden gem that sits patiently in this gargantuan city, a little slice of perfection and normality that is able to hold its self up highly among London's most acclaimed eateries and now I have the second in her cookbooks - Supper With Rosie, I can take the inspiration home and recreate that feeling of loveliness that Rosie's Deli seems to omit .
Heading back on to the main drag of regent street made me realise i was done. Those two food pilgrimages that i had religiously made had cleansed me and brought some clarity back in my life. Yes London is amazing and yes there are thousands of wonderful places to eat but just follow your instincts, go for what you really love and hopefully you will find the same sense of happiness that i did.
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