Date of Last Visit: Sunday, August 10 2008
The Victim: Me
The Damage: £12.50
The Background: My parents are good, decent hard-working people. And they’ve raised a total snob.
How else to describe my decision on a Sunday morning to take myself off to Marylebone for breakfast? I don’t live anywhere near Marylebone.
But it would be nice to live there. I can imagine myself, wandering the High Street, with my brother-and-sister West Highland White Terriers. And big sunglasses. Of course.
Instead I’m there trying NOT to look conspicuously American. I did leave the baseball cap at home…
The Entrance: It’s just a little after 10 when I arrive at La Fromagerie. The place is comfortably full but not overbearingly so. There are still tables to be had. I set myself up in a corner and ponder the contents of all those cardboard boxes.
I also ponder the menu…
I understand maximizing the bottom line, but just because I order "just" an orange juice on Monday at 1 p.m. doesn’t mean I’m not going to go whole hog on Tuesday. Or Wednesday for that matter. Doesn’t it all just average out? I think I have spent too much time calculating expected values.
The Service: They’re nice. I get concerned by the mention of filtered water on the menu and how if I spend £1 on filtered water, they’ll donate it. I just want tap water and wonder if this is a possibility. "Of course it is!" says my server. Thank goodness.
The Food: I try for the Croque Monsieur, but they’re out of Croque Monsieur. I find this fascinating. How can one be a cheeseshop and be out of cheese and meat and bread? Hmmm. Maybe they were missing special bread. Or special ham. They couldn’t be lacking in cheese! So instead I get the gravadlax and it arrives, beautifully so. And it is good.
The Verdict: I like La Fromagerie. I can’t help it. I should note that I had a better experience here than at their Highbury cousin.