Year of Eating Differently (114): 16mm, D'Arblay Street

Not really geared up for takeaway food, poor things. Although possibly the wait I had was while they found two identical tiny paper bags to each put one half of the ciabatta into.

The actual quality is very good - bread feels a lot fresher than some of the junk I've had in recent weeks, although the brie isn't that flavourful, it's not some kind of overpowering experience of CHEESE that to be honest can't be that pleasant for one's coworkers.
Also, there's a very good selection of cake; right up there with Konditor & Cook's outpost in the Curzon for variety and apparent quality, although nobody had touched the lemon tart.
Finally, there's a screening room downstairs for hire, but I can hardly justify nipping out at lunchtime to watch Citizen Kane, can I?
[Tried this once, years and years ago, and no, 3 hour epic films and lunch hours are not strictly compatible...]

Year of Eating Differently (108): Cafe San Valentino's, Greek Street

Only discovered this place this morning, despite it having the ambience of being around for years. Shades of the Bielefeld Conspiracy, perhaps? Anyway, it's a pretty centrally located cafe, but with a paucity of customers, which meant I got served without having to fight through a scrum of people first. Quite strange, given it's just a street or two away from both Dean Street and Charing Cross Road, but the (misplaced) wisdom of crowds can be a difficult thing to discern.
Toasted brie sandwich. Generous with the salad. Pretty slow service, given it was only me and some woman asking for her lunch. On the other hand, a polite request will provide you with honey in your tea. If I were thinking of revisiting here any time soon, that might be useful information.

Year of Eating Differently (106): Cafe Veneziana, Frith Street

Way down south beyond Old Compton Street, there's a maroon coloured cafe with a boombox parked on top of the drinks fridge, pumping out awful house music - is that to attract the clientele from G-A-Y? Surely not at midday on a Monday - there must be some time that's too early for that. Or possibly too late for the Sunday stragglers.

Anyways, got a portobello mushroom stack in ciabatta for the thoroughly reasonable price of 3.50. The combination of brie and livid orange peppers is a bit much. Now feel rather bloated, and that's before I chow down on a piece of shortbread. Adequate, then, apart from the soundtrack.

Year of Eating Differently (98): Cafe Milan, Shaftesbury Avenue

Very, very dull. A brie baguette with some tasteless salad and no salt or pepper. Most likely my own fault for not choosing anything more interesting, and because I spent the previous ten minutes stood outside spouting hogwash into my phone which the benighted woman on the other end carried on listening to. However, it seems that one duty for the person taking the order in a sandwich bar is to question the customer and via some sort of socratic dialogue ensure the final sandwich that is delivered is of an acceptably high standard. But perhaps that's asking too much.
Also, very disturbed by the window display - a multi-level rotating glass cabinet filled with what look like sandwiches, cups of coffee and meringues. It's not Tokyo; we don't need models of food to inspire us to come in. I suppose they must be doing something right though: established in 1980 and thus going strong for at least 27 years. They are right next door to Yahoo's London HQ though - will they go bust at the same time as Microsoft sack everyone?

Year of Eating Differently (75): Anonymous Cafe, corner of Frith & Old Compton Street

Pretty awful really. I'd wandered into Bar Italia only to find that their ready-made sandwiches all included meat, so I went three doors down to this place on the corner of Old Compton Street.
Inside, there was a man loudly complaining that he'd been served a large latte rather than a small one, and that he came there every day and never ordered a large one. Well, I thought, you clearly can't have that good a relationship with her if she doesn't remember what you like. Or maybe he was just cross.
However, the woman behind the bar seemed to be functionally deaf (it should really take less than 3 attempts to order a brie sandwich) and then also incapable of proper speech (3.75 is pronounced 'three seventy-five' and not 'two seventy-five', fact fans). The sandwich took an age to arrive, and was only about the size of one and a half slices of bread, so hardly good value.
Part way through its construction, some beggar wandered in to complain about having bronchitis, and being paranoid about catching illnesses this January, I got even more perturbed. However, she got a drink and then went over the road to hassle the customers in Cafe Nero for money, which possibly implies that in the anonymous cafe you're protected under the auspices of their establishment. Or something.
Anyway, rubbish sandwich (filling thermonuclear hot, outside freezing cold) and I had to go via Bateman's on the way back (where the woman looks very angry that you've come into her shop, but is at least half-way competent) to buy some crisps in order to not fall asleep with hunger this afternoon.

Year of Eating Differently (66): Costa, Old Compton Street

OK, it's a chain. And it's staffed entirely by mittel-Europeans (on closer consultation of my list of all flags, think that more exactly they might be Lithuanian), but they do a better job of serving you than the three English builders are managing with trying to get a half-constructed sofa down the stairs into the basement.
Presentation is a bit lacking - you can't see half the baked goods at the counter because there's a pile of tables in the way. Whether this is a protest at rabid over-commercialism, or incompetence, or just because the cafe is too damn small, squeezed as it is into the corner opposite the big green sex shop (and diagonally opposite Dirty White Boy) I just didn't care - my hands were ready to fall off due to the cold and me leaving my gloves at the office.
There are at least TWO lies in the next paragraph.
A brie and cranberry panino? It makes no sense, no sense at all. Is it Christmas already? If it is, surely I should drop the pretence of being vegetarian and binge on turkey, not on a combination of French, Italian, and - and - and where do cranberries come from again? New England, or something daft? Never mind. It's a well attested fact that the French don't celebrate Christmas, and moreover the Italians think that a traditional Christmas meal is a pannetone that's been hollowed out and filled with limoncello. And the panino is ok. Well, it's aaaalriiight, but in a mellow, drawn out kind of way, rather than the panicked yell of a builder as his chums drop the sofa on his head. But the pink innards are disconcerting - you start worrying that Vita has dosed you up with the wrong sandwich entirely, and even when you're eating it, part of you is saying this is wrong, this is so wrong. But it's not like a punishment beating.
For afters, got a muffin. Jolly excited about this because I had a ginger muffin in Costa in Bromley at the weekend (breakfast, I'm afraid, which says a lot about my diet and my burgeoning waistline) and it was better than the fabled Starbucks muffin of yore. This one has got icing on top and a uniform consistency throughout, unlike the disgusting muffins of Pret. A little concerned that it might be of pensionable age, given the display in the shop, and indeed, now it's up close it's not quite so appetising, but not to worry - this is great. It's exactly like a big lump of Jamaican Ginger Cake, but with icing too - well stoked is what I am.

Year of Eating Differently (41): Cafe Soho, Ingestre Place

Really, really impressed. Small unit, with three or four tables pushed up at the far end of the room, and all your orders taken on the spot and made there and then by a cheerful chap or two. Because it's tucked away a bit, less frenetic than Make Mine, say, and if you choose to sit down, then they bring you your sandwich on a plate, which always makes it feel more like a meal.

Sandwich itself - well, I was feeling unadventureous after the nauseating meals I've had for the last two days, so just a baguette with brie and lots and lots of salad, but the selection of drinks is very impressive; had some kind of goji berry drink with ginger, which, while not wholly successful, made a good change.
Did stop off at the newsagent on the way back to the office to buy some Frazzles though. And remarked upon the fact that I live in Soho, which is a somewhat concerning Freudian slip; are the hours in the office really that long?

Year of Eating Differently (30): Coffee Republic, Soho Square

Thought I'd been here a long time ago, but not yet, not yet. Very cheerful guy at the counter (even called me 'sir' which makes me feel important for all of about, oh, ten seconds). Brie and cranberry baguette, freshly made with the brightest cranberry sauce I've ever seen. And the bread was fresh, which really does mark it out as something special, given prior experiences. Far too much salad in it though - feel like I'm eating rabbit food today...