Avocado and doughnuts

Today we went hunting for doughnuts. Across the road from our hotel is an enormous mall, flowing over most of a city block, and somewhere within it is a branch of J.CO, an Indonesian doughnut franchise.

Year of Eating Differently (122): Soho Snax, Brewer Street

Godawful.
Some kind of tricolore focaccia, served up by a guy who was almost too shy to speak, wrapped up in paper like a piece of battered cod, and then I made the mistake of adding a geriatric blueberry muffin to my order. If I've said the Pret Christmas muffin was a ball of hot disappointment dressed up as mucus, wrapped in a doughy exterior, then I'm sorry; this was far far worse. Not in a long time have I had to throw something away because I couldn't face taking another bite of it.

Year of Eating Differently (115): Neal's Corner Sandwich Shop, Shaftesbury Avenue

So, in a bit of a hurry today, and it's grey and wet outside, so a quick visit here was all I required. This is probably one of the best small sandwich shops that I've been to in recent weeks; bread for my tricolore panino tasted much fresher, and the avocado actually had a bit of flavour to it too (unlike say the chilled-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life-and-never-quite-revived stuff you get at Pret, for example). Service is admirably quick, and they have a pretty good selection of gooey chocolate cake.

Year of Eating Differently (113): Julia's Meadow, Newman Street

Well, it was this or Spud-u-like in the Plaza, and my companion was unimpressed by that idea, so we ended up here instead, sat down at a table and drinking ginger beer like civilised people.

Service was a bit slow because there was a constant stream of people coming in for takeaway and being prioritised over us, so if you were in a rush this wouldn't be much good. Then again, if you were in a rush for take out, you'd probably be in a huff that the smug people hunkered down over a table were getting their stuff first.
Had a panino; the usual triumvirate of green, white and red. Wasn't bad, wasn't anything special.

Year of Eating Differently (104): Cotton Cafe, Berwick Street

The sign at the door says to mind the step. What is ambiguous about this is that you mind the step as you walk in from the street, not realising there's another step to trip across as you step up again into the restaurant. Thankfully I didn't land face first in somebody else's lunch; not sure if I recovered or not. Had an avocado melt, which is really a panino, but a bit dirtier; avocado and swiss cheese stuck in a panini toaster for a few minutes, but slathered on the outside with butter. Somehow this was much heavier on the filth-factor than other panini I've eaten - well done. They offer chilli hot chocolate as well - not sure about whether that's a good idea or an incredibly dangerous one - but did have a piece of pear and ginger chocolate cake, which was very good indeed.
Went back to the office, found that my date for the night had gone home sick and thus I'm without company for the evening. Possibly that's justice for yesterday's post, but it is the 14th of February...

Year of Eating Differently (62): Pure California, Wardour Street

After a short frustration trying to get my Sony Ericsson K850i fixed (the buttons don't work, which is a software problem, apparently, despite them BEING BUTTONS) went down Wardour Street in search of pizza. I've already done Maletti's and Pizza Express, and although there were some nice-but-pricey places ahead of me, I felt strangely reticent at being sat alone in a restuarant eating a pizza. I used to be fine with that, but perhaps I'd worry too much about the human condition and start crying. So I'll save that for later in the week.
Pure California - well, when I went to California I saw the Greyhound bus station at Los Angeles and it was nothing like this. Nor was it anything like Haight-Ashbury, but since that's just the end of the 60's / Camden that's probably a good thing. Hippies not able to get over the end of their decade are so declasse darling.
Anyway, Pure California offers things with beans, hummus and amusing titles. Yes, very funny. My sides split the time I read a pun on the word hummus. Must. Get. Out. More. Settled for a wrap with beans and avocado in it - a combination I've never encountered before.
It's better than I feared. Annoyingly, you buy what looks like one wrap and then it turns out to be in two sections (similarly, I've always been frustrated by Bounty bars and the fact that you don't get one really big wodge of coconut covered in chocolate) but the combination of what appears to be raw broccoli, quite spicy sauce and almost no identifiable avocado turns out to be pretty good

Year of Eating Differently (45): Silva's Grill and Sandwich Bar, Shaftesbury Avenue

Cold clear day, so what better than to wander down New Oxford Street, pick up some photos from Jessops and then wander south to the warm environs of Silva's? Had a tri colore pannino - very good, although afterwards I still felt hungry enough to go and buy some rubbish from Starbucks to go on top.

It's a bit crowded inside, but you can sit down at one of the bench seats, and then steak and chips somebody was having for lunch looked magnificent, in a prosaic "let's stuff the calories in at lunchtime in the form of a dirty big lump of cow" kind of way. How I miss meat...

Year of Eating Differently (14): Shelly's, Dean Street

So, next door to Make Mine and kind of its personable alter ego. Again, you can specify what you want and somebody constructs it for you, but somehow they have recognisable personalities and actually recognise you if you go back a few times. Ah, the halcyon days when they knew to make me two marmite bagels every morning... And Ian Hislop (he of Private Eye) has a 'usual' when he goes there.

Shelly's tricolore gets toasted in a panini press, and possibly that, combined with somebody not slapping on the oil like their life depended on it, gives you a sandwich that's not half as oily. Ok, it's slightly bland compared to the Make Mine experience, but you don't have that feeling of oh my god I'm going to die soon from this sandwich that Make Mine can inspire. Plus the pesto, the sundried tomatoes, the cheese, the avocado are all perceptible flavours within the hole, rather than the sledgehammer effect of their rivals.
On the downside, service can be a little slow, but you can expect a queue anywhere at lunchtime in Soho. 4.00 for the sandwich.

Year of Eating Differently (9): Make Mine, Dean Street

Nicely packaged, but inside lurks a heart of darkness...

I spent six months eating nothing but Make Mine sandwiches, which probably is part of the motivation for this endeavour. Make Mine have one person taking orders at the till, then a production line of sandwich builders that chuck out your finished order a few minutes later. Works fine when there's nobody else in the shop, but at 1pm on a weekday the place is maxed out and the queue spills out onto the road, so it's not necessarily the best place to grab a quick bite. Contrast that with Shelly's (to be visited later) where the same person takes your order, builds it and then gives it to you. Although they're also really slow when you're in a hurry.
Anyhow, the purple and white colour scheme is intended to make the place look fresh and fun. At first glance, the sandwich shop counterpart to the white and orange of Imli. When you get the sandwich, you realise that fun was accidentally identified with cholesterol and nothing else. The damn thing is dripping oil. It's the closest thing to a dirty burger without there being a burger in it; the sundried tomatoes could just as well be oildrowned tomatoes, the sprig of salad hardly counteracts this, the avocado and mozzarella - well, they're just fat anyway and the foccacia itself has been liberally hosed with pesto that seems to be mostly oil too. Sure, it tastes good for the first bite or two, but by the end you're feeling nauseated by the whole experience and it becomes a triumph of the will to finish the thing off. (Not sure as I should be comparing eating a sandwich to Leni Reifenstahl, but them's the breaks.) Oh, and the foccacia was a bit burnt on one edge.
Tricolore focaccia, £4.00. Shame and guilt, well, I get those for free