I don’t know which is worse, the fact that I haven’t had a plate of fish’n’chips yet. Or the fact that I ate French food in London before I ate fish’n’chips. Anyway, I was strolling about Covent Garden one lovely evening last weekend in search of an Indian restaurant called ‘Chutney’. Before you begin to gasp in disbelief, let me clarify that it wasn’t my idea. Anyway, (thankfully) ‘Chutney’ seemed to be missing/closed on the day. For lack of choice, because everything was crowded, I found myself sitting at a tiny little restaurant called Chez Antoinette and without too many expectations ordered myself a coffee and a platter of baked camembert to share with a new found friend.
What followed was one of the most heavenly mid-afternoon snacks I have ever had! I fell in love with the fact that coffee was brought to our table in a mosaic of miss-matched cups and saucers, which looked like they’d been inherited from a mad old aunt. The coffee was superb, but the crockery was so damn cute, I could have very well had some tap water and gone home pleased.
Anyway, the baked camembert was perhaps the finest I’ve ever had! Served with some crusty bread and a fresh salad that cleared the palette just enough for another morsel of pain et du fromage. By this point, I’d already planned a second trip, to sample other wonders Antoinette would serve. But she wouldn’t let me go just yet. As fate would have it, a black board positioned right at my table kept hinting at dessert, tempting me with a description of a buttery tart stuffed with blueberries, figs and almonds. Could I ever resist such douceur? To say the least, no one does pastry quite like the French!
