I've been meaning to get to No. 67, The South London Gallery's latest cafe, for ages. Finally, with a little hangover, we headed down the hill and found ourselves wedged in, ordering from a beautiful waiter, and I for one was feeling really excited. It all boded well: lovely soft lighting, and fantastic shell of a building, a really tempting menu, and that particular cafe noise which combines steam and noise and clatter of plates. It always makes me feel at home.
We ordered a chorizo sandwich and pork rillettes. Both really hit the spot. The chorizo came as an open sandwich, and I am pretty sure they were the Brindisa parilla chorizo that we sell at Rosie's. Wet and hot, they really are the ticket. The rillettes was coarse and tasted of bay leaves, just as it should. Both plates came with really nice chewy slightly burnt bread, which -very much in fashion- tasted like sourdough. The other dishes on the menu all looked a bit too big for our lunch, but definitely made me want to return and eat more some other time.
What really set this place apart was the coffee. Not that it was totally amazing. I am one of those really annoying customers (who I myself hate) who can't just order a coffee. Instead I feel the need to give strict instructions, as what I like to drink is not a named coffee... "please can I have an espresso, in a double espresso cup, with exactly the same amount of warm milk". It's not a macchiato, or a capo or a flat white. It's a mini something. And our dish of a waiter, got it spot on. I respect him, not only for making it, but that he didn't appear to have spat in it either.
All in all, I can't wait to walk back down the hill and patronise such a lovely local cafe. Honestly faultless.