Some people do Parkrun. I go on a pastry run on Saturday mornings. You can, of course, do both, but one of the best things about moving to South-East London this year, bar the luxury of living on my own, is my proximity to not one but three bakeries that have seen a decent amount of hype this year. Eric’s of East Dulwich, Bunhead Bakery in Herne Hill (and not Nunhead, though that probably would make more sense, wouldn’t it?) and Toad in Camberwell.
Toad is probably the most well-known, and boasts the largest queues. Our mayor even got in on the action, and posted about his visit to it in June. Having moved down from a borough that is a by-word for bougie (though I was in the less salubrious, northern part of Islington), I do have to say that I think Toad has what Jolene, an ever-sprawling network of bakeries across north London and Hackney, wishes it has, and is less stuffy in vibe than that one time I went to Popham’s. The crème pat at Toad is some of the finest I’ve had, and makes for great seasonal Danishes, loaded with huge strawberries in summer, while the week I got a greengage one felt like a perfect start of autumn. It’s a truly underrated fruit. These baked goods are not cheap, but unfortunately they are cheaper than pints these days, and they encourage me to be up and out the house by 8am. Which is no mean feat for this old sloth!
I am in a bad mood, which isn’t entirely unrelated to the fact I have nasty cramps today, so I thought that I’d go for a fluffier, buttery topic to kick off the week. Which is ironic, as none of these places are open on a Monday. Eric’s has the temerity to only be open twice a week, which frankly boggles the mind in this economy.