Wait…what? Olives? For breakfast? What the fuck?

Posted: September 22, 2012 in Writing

I had breakfast at the Olive Tree Cafe in Crouch End at the weekend.

This was once the lovely Spanish restaurant Cafe Solo, owned by the same people that run N8’s fantastic tapas bar, La Bota. Before I had kids I used to meet my wife at La Bota when she’d get back from the late shift in the newsroom and we’d eat chicken livers and drink white rioja (okay I’d eat most of the livers…and drink most of the white now I come to think about it).

Anyhoo, Cafe Solo has for sometime now been a Mediterranean (?) cafe, with the kind of bizarre assortment of cuisines on the menu that would normally make you highly cautious, but you know what, it was pretty good. Kid 1 had a baked potato, which was huge and although hard to fuck up and not much of a test of a kitchen, seemed fine. Kid 2 had plain toast and packets of sugar (I know, but what are you gonna do?). I had a roast veg panini that was all kinds of melty and nutty and rich to the point I was sure that they’d sneaked some meat juices in their somehow. And then there was my wife’s breakfast… with olives. It’s a Turkish thing, and along with the olives was some haloumi and melon and salami and bread. It was as though someone had just  closed their eyes and stuck their hand in a big bag of groceries and pulled out whatever. But it was a tasty combo.

The coffee pretty much sucked balls, though.

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