Giddily, we launched ourselves upon Ottolenghi** in Holland Street, just off of Kensington High Street. It's a small shop, utterly charming and stuffed full of all kinds of deliciousness. Feeling like I was on a pilgrimage I said with a smile to the chap, "May I take a photograph of all this loveliness for my friends in Los Angeles?" He replied, dead pan, "From outside the window you may." And so, from outside the window, here it is:
We ordered (Vivien and I) cappucinos, a brioche for me, a pain au chocolat for her, and we parked ourselves on the steps outside (there is no seating) feeling for all the world like rebellious teenagers and receiving appropriately disapproving looks from passers by.
** For new readers: I think I may have been the first person on the West Coast to extol the virtues of Ottolenghi, thanks to my friend Sian. I ordered the book, posted recipes and links to the Guardian site, and hooked all my friends. You will understand, dear reader, if I seem just a little disappointed by the reception given at the shrine, not that I was expected balloons and bunting.