8am on a dark February morning can be redeemed by few things. But one of them must be meeting the gent in the rain of Fitzrovia for a flattie and an over-sized bacon sandwich in a charming bijou cafe.
To be precise, bacon that has been cooked to the perfect point of crisp - not glassy shrapnel, not chewy - curled up between small blobs of tomato ketchup. And oozing its bacon fat all over the lightly toasted sourdough bread, then out of the giant holes to grease up the plate.
We both agreed that although, like Mary Poppins, the flat white was practically perfect, it could have been just a bit stronger. A minor thing really: my taste-buds are probably warped by the 3-shot espresso machine I use by myself in the morning. My top London coffee is still Monmouth.
I have just found the owner's blog and she writes beautifully. She recently posted about food bloggers, and how she reads reviews of her establishment but can't spot them whilst they are eating. Well I was the librarian-looking one covered in bacon grease. And I'll be coming back!
http://www.lantanacafe.co.uk/
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