‘Clever, finely judged, nicely eccentric cooking with a strong undercurrent of country-house living’
As London flipped open into tier 2 last week, I headed off to Cafe Deco in Bloomsbury. Or at least I ended up there, after fitting three restaurants into the first 48 hours post-lockdown. Frosty walks through an underpopulated city, spotting “open” signs and freshly chalked menus, have been joyful, as has the warmth of semi-bustling dining rooms to thaw out my cold posterior.
I had very much missed the familiar famished totter from the maître d’s desk to the table, followed by those fantastic first 10 minutes of fondling the menu, surveying the clientele, choosing an aperitif and settling in for some scattergun gossip with a friend. And all this before food even comes into the equation: what the last year has underlined to me is that, often, the cooking isn’t half as important as the togetherness.