Vivo Argentina!

Friday night: the Argentinian restaurant on Broadway market, E8.
A 10 oz rump steak, red wine, the special condiment (sounded a bit like 'chimmi chura' -?) of herbs and oil and possibly chilli to spoon over. I don't want to be annoying and gush, so I'll just say it was the best meal out I have had in a long time, and all the more beautiful for the staff and the intimate atmosphere, and the hand-winched grill over the fire.

And because the company was good, and he insisted on paying, which was lavish and charming.

Red wine and red meat: is the secret to happiness really so simple?

For the love of macchiato

I have finally found the perfect relationship. Of course the cracks will appear, in time, I will get disillusioned; that is what happens. So I am just enjoying the moment and not thinking of the future. But each time it succeeds - how happy I am!

Surely, it must be a rare, once-in-a-lifetime thing to find a cafe that serves a consistently perfect macchiato? I now have a Sunday morning habit and have been holding back from visiting mid-week, incase it breaks the charm. I am also afraid of someone else making the coffee, incase it is the guy-with-the-earring who holds the magic, and not the cafe in general. Such nervous flutterings of my heart when the coffee is placed in front of me!

Today, to prolong the pleasure, I had a slice of cake; homemade on the premises, the sponge was perhaps made with ground almonds rather than flour, and berries baked into the centre. Utterly delicious, and not too sweet.

But now the cruellest wait: a whole week before I can go back again!