December in London

We headed straight to London when we landed back home. A few festive, food-, family-, and friend-filled days were ours for the taking (with some work interspersed between meals). Our favorites included the prettiest curries and Indian snacks at Kricket, cacio e pepe at Padella (always), Emily Young's striking stone sculptures at St James' Piccadilly, post-flight fuel at Shawarma Bar, the Christmas windows at Ralph Lauren, a weekday lunch break at Oldroyd, an afternoon at my forever favorite Violet, breakfast at Pavilion Café, and a quick stop for doughnuts at Bread Ahead before the train home.

Slotting back into London life is almost scarily easy. Everything fits together seamlessly, we feel totally at home, connected to the people, and have even started to appreciate the monotonous weather. Back in NYC I miss London's grey warmth, the people who sound more like me, and my most loved places: this London love is never going away.

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The Good Egg

It's rare that I'm willing to wait more than five minutes for breakfast. Let alone an hour and a half. Especially when that hour and a half means I could be late for a flight. But when we'd finally found an opportunity on an all too rare trip back home to visit The Good Egg, the flight and my rumbling tummy were going to have to be a little patient.

After a walk round Abney Park Cemetery, we soon returned for coffees on the bench outside, and finally a table was ready. Once you're inside with a second cup of coffee in hand, and a slice of babka to nibble on, it's clear why everyone's so unwilling to give up their precious seat on a Sunday morning. 

As New Yorkers, we're spoilt for babka options. With Breads being the hands-down favorite in this city, it was with slight trepidation that we tried our first slice of British babka. Thankfully Oded, The Good Egg's chief babka chef, who has Ottolenghi on his list of "people who trained me and taught me magic," knows how to make the perfect twisted, chocolate-filled, yeasted bread. 

Rumbling stomaches had been silenced with this perfect chocolate breakfast, so now it was time to figure out how we could order as much of the menu as possible. A return trip sadly isn't going to happen in the near future, so the choosing pressure was on. I opted for a classic: shakshuka. With fried halloumi. Because when adding fried halloumi to your breakfast is an option, why would you say no?

Other highlights from our table overflowing with food were the Iraqi aubergine pita with eggs (see top), and the house beef salami hash. Everything was packed full of flavor, ridiculously more-ish, and if I lived nearby, I'd be here every weekend.

The Good Egg have been on an amazing journey, which has been so fun to watch (from afar) over the last couple of years. Joel and the team have created such a buzzy, tasty place. I'm so grateful I finally got a chance to brunch at this top spot, and Londoners, you better get yourselves there ASAP. I promise it's worth the wait.

The Good Egg, 93 Stoke Newington Church Street, London N16 0AS.

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Sardine

Our penultimate night on our trip back home, we unexpectedly managed to get both our families together. Where can you find a table for nine people at short notice for a Friday night in London? I thought we were on to an impossible task, but somehow, by some lucky occurrence, perfectly-located (for us, not for the rest of the world. Its location behind the McDonald's on City Road, is actually a little upsetting) Sardine had space for us all.

On this beautiful summer day, Sardine provided the perfect opportunity to imagine we were all on holiday in the South of France, rather than by City Road. I imagine that on less gorgeous summer days, stepping into tiled, sleek Sardine would be a welcome escape from this typically grey, drizzly city.

As there were so many of us we were on a set-ish menu. Shorter than the normal one, but there were still choices. We started with the prettiest array of appetizers to fight over amongst ourselves. There were plenty for everyone, but we're a greedy lot, so fight we did. Colorful crudités with a garlicy, rich anchoïade (see the photo above!); delicate slices of Jésus Basque salami; salty, satisfying more-ish brandade toast.

We were then split between ajo blanco & melon and chicken liver parfait. If you like chicken liver parfait, that was great. I don't love it, but I did love the bowl of creamy, satisfying chilled gazpacho-y soup, with sweet chunks of melon dotted around the center.

By this point, we'd all fallen in love with Sardine. We were sipping on carafes of the wine 'on tap' (both the white and red were elegant, dangerously drink-able, and a perfect match for the simple yet perfected food) and our loud voices echoed round the space.

Everything continued to get better and better. The options for mains were rabbit Leg, borlotti beans, rocket & mustard, i.e. hearty comfort food, brightened by greens and tangy mustard. Cod, clams & saffron stew, courgette & anchovy toast may not have been beautiful, but was the ideal fish stew: bright, messy, and full of seaside dreams. Girolles, grilled polenta, rainbow chard & crème fraîche was earthy, with a total array of textures: crispy polenta, soft mushrooms, almost crunchy chard, and velvety crème fraîche.

And yes, you better believe that after all that we had dessert. Yes, we were already full, but there'd been a beautiful apricot & brown butter tart sitting on the counter of the open kitchen staring at me all night, so everyone needed a slice. It was perfect. Yes. Totally, utterly, completely perfect.

Sardine, 15 Micawber Street, London, N1 7TB

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