Euphorium Bakery, Islington
Euphorium Bakery
202 Upper St
Islington
N1 1RQ (Map)
020 7704 6905
www.euphoriumbakery.com
by Henrietta Crumpet
Darling, I will never forget that day, that breakfast. The smell of musk in your hair, so sensuous, so… manly. I wore deep red lipstick. You recalled your days as a gigolo in Paris.
I had a strawberry tart. Staring deep into your eyes I bit into the fruit. I got custard on my nose and you licked it off. How playful. How delicious. The strawberries were sweet and fresh, the pastry crumbled and melted in my mouth, the custard danced past my sumptuous lips. It was all a bit much for you was it not, my darling? When I partook of a second pastry (an exquisite pain raisin), and peeled off the layers, dipping them into my coffee and sucking the ends, you started to tremble and had to content yourself with an egg mayonnaise sandwich on thick brown bread.
It would have been an eggy, creamy delight, I think, if there had been any filling to delight in. But alas, a mere smear across the bread, a hint of a yolk and a whiff of white was all that was present. We wept. I craved a sympathetic glance from the staff. They were oblivious to our pain and announced that "that was how they made their sandwiches". How they let themselves down. How they let us down. The pastries so perfect. The sandwiches so disappointing. My fan dropped to the floor, you rose from your chair, nearly careering into one of the many mothers with babies as you hastened to exit.
"Pierre!" I shouted, "Don’t leave me! I will make you an egg sandwich wearing nothing but a silk negligee whilst I recite passages from Voltaire!"
But you were gone. My mascara ran down my cheeks. And all I had left was cake.
202 Upper St
Islington
N1 1RQ (Map)
020 7704 6905
www.euphoriumbakery.com
by Henrietta Crumpet
Darling, I will never forget that day, that breakfast. The smell of musk in your hair, so sensuous, so… manly. I wore deep red lipstick. You recalled your days as a gigolo in Paris.
I had a strawberry tart. Staring deep into your eyes I bit into the fruit. I got custard on my nose and you licked it off. How playful. How delicious. The strawberries were sweet and fresh, the pastry crumbled and melted in my mouth, the custard danced past my sumptuous lips. It was all a bit much for you was it not, my darling? When I partook of a second pastry (an exquisite pain raisin), and peeled off the layers, dipping them into my coffee and sucking the ends, you started to tremble and had to content yourself with an egg mayonnaise sandwich on thick brown bread.
It would have been an eggy, creamy delight, I think, if there had been any filling to delight in. But alas, a mere smear across the bread, a hint of a yolk and a whiff of white was all that was present. We wept. I craved a sympathetic glance from the staff. They were oblivious to our pain and announced that "that was how they made their sandwiches". How they let themselves down. How they let us down. The pastries so perfect. The sandwiches so disappointing. My fan dropped to the floor, you rose from your chair, nearly careering into one of the many mothers with babies as you hastened to exit.
"Pierre!" I shouted, "Don’t leave me! I will make you an egg sandwich wearing nothing but a silk negligee whilst I recite passages from Voltaire!"
But you were gone. My mascara ran down my cheeks. And all I had left was cake.
posted by London Review of Breakfasts |
5:42 PM |
7 Comments:
Oh LRB, how I love you! Please tell us what happens next!
Probably a ruddy massive bill - ludicrously expensive place. I once lived over the road from said establishment, and the first day popped over to pick up a loaf of bread. £1.90! Disgraceful.
HB
T'was indeed rather cher. Luckily Pierre had dropped his monogramed money clip on the table as he fled, so I had a plenty to pay with. The pastries are a lovely little treatette but a sandwich (minus filling) and a coffee could leave you with no change from a tenner.
The rest of Pierre's money I used for new eyelashes and a leather basque. I have not seen him since.
HC
expensive and frankly not that reliable. was miserable and treated myself to a chocolate thing there once - stodgy, gummy and eventually inedible even to someone openly seeking solace through food. and the room so rammed with buggies i had to literally climb over several claras and a basti just to get a seat. not worth it.
definitely very expensive, and always full of yummy mummies...BUT they do bread at two for the price of one after 8pm (I think?) which makes it a little more reasonable.
Im surprised by this silly article. I live just off upper st and adore this very popular bakers. The sandwiches are always stuffed with filling and at £2.90 is cheaper than budgens!!! Get your facts right!! This place is quality and deserves its place among the elite bakeries in london. Acording to the evening standard Jamie oliver used euphorium to make his wedding cake, if its good enough for him its good enough for me!!
If you have an aversion to crusty, chewy, artisanal breads or if you're suffering from gum disease I could see your admiring the breads at Euphorium Bakery. I found that its baguette surpassed even supermarket own brands among the most pathetically soft, squishy baguettes in London. Elite London bakery? If that's true I am moving to Paris. Or even Brighton.
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