Interior: When I first walked in the door of Poppins, I thought, here’s an interior that hasn’t changed for more than 40 years. On closer inspection, the tables and chairs (tasteful medium brown varnished wood, thank you very much) are clearly recent, but overall they have managed to preserve a real sense of the traditional London caff – I’m so glad they didn’t get rid of the 60s hanging lamps! Old fashioned sit-down caffs are hard to find in the City – I don’t think many city workers go out to a caff for lunch anymore, it’s either something nicer and / or healthier or a takeaway sandwich. Perhaps Poppins manages it because it’s tucked away in an alley. Nobody was looking, so they felt free to keep the burgundy and cream paintwork, lino floor and ceiling tiles that I hadn’t realised you don’t see in offices anymore.  It felt like a real find.

Food: I have to admit that I wasn’t eating at Poppins. I had a lovely bright orange mug of tea (a mug!). But there were a decent range of breakfast options, including my favourites, bubble and black pudding, jackets and sandwiches. But it’s definitely one to remember next time I need a breafkast in the City.

Interior: Soho Brasserie doesn’t look like a caff. It looks like a neighbourhood Turkish or Italian restaurant, with wooden tables, tiled floor, plants and a mirrored bar reflecting back bottles of spirits in a very un-cafflike way. However, it assuredly was one, offering cuppas and breakfasts as well as an evening menu. And at 3pm on a ridiculously rainy new years’ day, frankly, anything that would sell me tea was welcome. And in fact the waitress, working on her own, was very friendly (even when the owner came in and berated her for the wet floor – what did he expected when every customer in there had wet coats and umbrellas?).

Food: I had scrambled egg on toast which was okay. Nothing worse, nothing better. The scrambled egg was on the dry side for my taste, but I know this isn’t everyone’s and it was certainly made in a pan not a microwave. The toast was cotton wool white bread but was fine under the circumstances. Tea was in a pot with a cup (I’d have expected nothing else given the decor) and was fine, much as I’d have preferred a mug and a teabag. Together they came to less than a fiver, which wouldn’t be much of a boast in many places, but on Greek st, came as a relief.

All in all, there’s nothing special about the Soho Brasserie, but if you need some comfort on a grim wintry day in Soho, you could do (much) worse.

Interior: A proper modern classic this one: shiny plastic tables and chairs with red leatherette trim, fake brickwork on the walls and bright, laminated menus. The welcome was so-so for me but extremely cordial for the many locals, so I’m guessing you have to earn it with regular visits.

Food: I had a really excellent vegetarian breakfast. Loads of mushrooms, a grilled tomato, fried egg, beans and lovely patty of bubble. In some ways it didn’t feel unhealthy enough but was very welcome given the hangover I was treating. Tea was on the milky side but strong enough that it stood up to it. And in a mug. I had two. Given the first one was included in the set breakfast price, a fiver seemed like a bargain.

Interior:  This hasn’t changed since it was called Sam Widges: a pleasant enough little caff, a step towards cafe-dom from its plastic-seated neighbours, but not particularly pretentious. The front area is dominated by the sandwich counter and there’s a back bit which you might want to use if, as with today, there’s a bit of a draught coming in from the door. Staff were friendly enough.

Food: I had the vegetarian English, but asked them to leave out the veggie sausage. The waitress did offer me the option of having an extra egg, and I should have taken the opportunity to ask if I could have my tea included instead, but I didn’t and in the end, she charged me the full price for the breakfast (understandably, as it’s probably programmed into the till) and extra for the tea. The breakfast was fine: I missed the amazing herby grilled tomatoes they used to serve, but having it made all made fresh made up for it. The toast was at the foldable end of soggy, which was a shame. I somehow forgot to tell them not to leave out the hash browns and, while I’m sure they went straight from freezer to deep fryer, they were extremely nice indeed.

Last visited: Friday  18th November

Interior: I have fond associations with this place, although I know it’s not everyone’s favourite, largely because I finished reading ‘Lempriere’s Dictionary’ here. It’s all wooden tables, secondhand paperbacks on the shelves, pamphlets advertising literary events on the walls - I’m almost ashamed to say how nice the interior is, because some people really don’t like it here and the staff can sometimes be nice and sometimes be a bit standoffish and useless. But yes, as someone who likes caffs with laminated menus with pictures of baked beans on them A LOT, I also really like the atmosphere in Le Rustique.

Food: I have a bit more sympathy with the detractors here because the food is quite expensive and nothing special. You can pay the same for the same kind of atmosphere and much better food elsewhere -  believe me, I know. In the past I’ve had panini that were the standard tasteless cotton woolly pap. This time I just had a pot of tea, which was lovely, proper strong, three cups out of it, but a fair old price. I had some toast when I got home.

I wouldn’t come here every day but, as a local, it’s worth it for the atmosphere every now and then.

Interior: seeking breakfast on a chilly November morning, I first paused at the door of an Italian-looking caff on the North East side of the junction. But for some reason, the door was wide open and I could already see myself shivering as I tried to cut up toast with my gloves on. So I crossed the road and went to the Sun Cafe. ‘Cosy’ probably wasn’t the look they were aiming for – canary yellow-walls, pale-veneer tables, shiny metal backed chairs and – even – a mirror on the ceiling above the counter – suggest a bright, modern and thrusting effect. Yet it was friendly rather than cool, the caff was warm enough and the welcome very friendly. The crowd was pleasant too – a real mixture between those with laptops and briefcases and those with reflective jackets.

Food: Although very tempted by several of the 8 (!) set breakfasts, I went for the budget option as set breakfasts are really too big most of the time. 1 egg on toast, which was just right (for me anyway) – toast not soggy, yolk still runny, white crispy on the edges – a slice of bacon, beans and a sausage. The latter tasted a bit synthetic and reminded me of the turkey sausages you get in halal caffs, which would have been rendered a bit pointless by the presence of the definitely porky bacon, but the latter was a decent rasher. The counter held a very tempting selection of sandwich fillings and the tea, while in a non-traditional mug, was a decent quantity and lovely-tasting. I wouldn’t go out of my way to come here, but I’d recommend it if you were in the area.

First visited: Tuesday 4th October 2011

Interior: Sakley’s used to be Squat and Gobble of warm memories (but too loud radio) and the inside is very similar. The overall impression is still of wood and the layout is exacty the same. However, some of S&G’s home-made charm has been lost as they’ve replaced the rickety tables and chairs with furniture of the Cafe Nero variety. The welcome was friendly but a bit more polished than under the old management and as such, I’m afraid, came across as a little insincere. When the good-looking young man came over and said ‘can I get you another tea?’, I didn’t think ‘How kind’, I thought ‘Another £1.25 for a half-filled heat-proof glass of twinings english breakfast?… I don’t think so!’. But I did say ‘No thank you’ because, after all, he’s only trying to make a living.

Food: Although there’s a very, very tempting list of breakfast and sarnie options at Sakley’s – something Squat and Gobble themselves did particularly well, albeit with ridiculously fat-cut bread – I had porridge. It was lovely: just the right size portion to be filling but not overwhelming, not too thin or too thick (said Goldilocks) and free toppings including honey, sunflower seeds and toasted hazelnuts (they also do banana, date and sultanas). However, at £4.75 this is going to be a rare treat and does seem a little steep when we’re talking about oats, water and milk (and, I know, premises, salaries etc but I’m sure it wasn’t that expensive at S&G).  So I’d say, good food, but probably slightly out of the usual caff price range, and the interior a little slick for my liking.

Interior:
It’s not strictly true to say that I first visited the wine cellar on this date, as I’d been in a few times in the past for spicy sausages, vinho verde and the like. However, this was my first visit to sit indoors and have a hot drink. And yes it is a caff, but it’s also a delicatessen! which makes the interior quite fun and a bit tempting. Staff are friendly (although much friendlier to the cute 3 year old on the table next door than to me) and it’s a pleasant place to spend half an hour, although probably a bit small to expect to read a book there for an afternoon.

Food:
The wine cellar does the full range of sandwiches you might expect but I went a bit off course and had a pasteis de bachaulau. Heated up the in the microwave it was yummy! Decaff coffee was really quite nice although I felt a bit embarassed asking for it. The last time I did that in a portugese place (in vauxhall), they let me add the sachet of instant (presumably so I wouldn’t think such foul brown water was anything like their *real* coffee). The two proprietresses had to confer as to whether or not they did it but were quite happy to make it and it did come out of the machine. You can’t get a full breakfast here, but there are some really interesting fishy looking sandwich fillings and they do hot dishes too.

Interior:

Since the repeated failure of the map cafe to be anything other than bitterly disappointing, I’ve decided to venture off my usual beaten track for local caffs. York Rise can’t be that off the beaten track given that it supports a local butcher and continental food shop not much changed since the late 1970s, but I hope it gets enough passing trade to keep this very pleasant cafe open. Wooden floors and tables, plants, irrelevant, or simply strange, nick nacks (a loaf of bread anyone?) add up to the standard middle class local, but it doesn’t feel precious or pretentious and it was being run impressively efficiently by one gentleman on his own (who was also preparing the lunches: of the moussaka and lasagne variety, rather than pie and chips). It wasn’t madly busy, but he managed a fair amount of multi-tasking without seeming hassled and with a smile.

Food:

The Village Cafe doesn’t actually do a full English. However, they do various egg, cheese, ham and toast combinations (as well as your standard panini and continental). I had the Croque Madame, which he seemed to have made from scratch and used decent thick-cut ham and two poached eggs. Even the bread seemed to be interestingly seedy and didn’t collapse under the weight of all that protein. The side salad was not a silly garnish, but a nicely dressed portion of tomatoes, leaves and peppers and I didn’t have to ask for fresh ground pepper (only because I didn’t see the peppermill tucked under his arm, I actually did before he had a chance to offer it). My only quibble was the tea. “A large tea” got me a 3/4 filled oversized coffee cup containing hot-ish water and, at least, a decent teabag. I had to have two which bumped up the price a bit. But I suppose that’s what you get with peppermills and wooden tables: for a mug of bright orange liquid of delight, I need to expect laminated menus, plastic chairs and little glass shakers of vaguely peppery powder. It’s a fair swap, and I don’t mind visiting both varieties of caff.

Interior:
I must admit that I chose Cantina because Hummous brothers next door was closed. I realised that my cumin-scented beany desires could not be met, but Cantina lured me in with a very smart, black laquered interior. Film star photos on the walls were not addressed to the proprietor and signed and, all in all, I would not have been surprised if the menu had included sushi and mojitos. In fact, it’s a perfectly standard breakfast and sarnies menu, but nothing wrong with having that in a smart interior. And unlike somewhere offering global tapas, the staff could not have been more friendly.

Food:
Frustrated in my desire for garlic and chilli, I chose a halloumi and tomato panini. Surely nobody can produce anything bland with toasted halloumi? Sadly no. I think this panino was in the top five worst sandwiches I’ve ever eaten. It had no flavour and no texture – quite an achievement when you’re battling with the salty rubber band of cheeses. The bread didn’t help, but I can only assume that the ‘halloumi’ was some kind of international mega-cheese with all the flavour taken out so as not to frighten the horses.  I don’t expect haute cuisine from caffs, I really don’t, but it baffles me how they managed to make something so utterly bland. So, sadly, no return visit from me.