puff pastry + crème fraîche + persimmons + pistachio
I started the weekend like I do most others. At that early hour, it was bright enough for morning light to gently kiss the cold floors without forcing me to flick a light on, but dim enough to allow me to appreciate the calm. I put the kettle to boil, made myself something simple to eat, and helped myself to my table. This is a serve-yourself restaurant. There’s no waiter service at this joint. A regular, I’m entitled to the same seat every weekend. Window ahead of me, blinds cracked; wall behind. I’m the only one here, so I don’t feel too bad firing up my laptop at a place of eating to check my email, read the news. Headphones go in to block out the silence, and the hazy diners around me become invisible.