GAIL’s Artisan Bakery, Bloomsbury

gales

It dawned on me this morning that I had not left the house for several days. My time has been consumed by watching The Walking Dead, drawing and attempting to hunt for jobs – the former outweighing the other two. My desk (the dining table) has been taken over by a preserve army of 103 jars of Date and Earl Grey jam. It’s sweltering, the people on Radio 4 can’t stop talking about the fact that a woman gave birth yesterday, and I am in dire need of some cake.

I decide to finally eject myself from my abode and head to Gail’s Artisan Bakery with an aspect much like a ‘walker,’ strolling gormlessly and barely using one’s brain. On account of being a tad flustered upon my arrival at the bakery, I panicked and picked the first cakey thing I came across, a blueberry muffin. You see, the rather friendly woman at the counter had asked me what I wanted before I had a chance to have a proper look at what was on offer, and as a result, was waiting expectantly as I deliberated. I didn’t want to put her through the trials of my indecisiveness (a thing that many people have had to endure whilst in my company) so I just picked the muffin and an iced earl grey tea to end our mutual suffering.

Upon sitting down I spied a plethora of lovely looking cakes, cookies and flapjacks that I hadn’t noticed before. Ah well, this muffin is perfectly good – juicy blueberries and a satisfyingly crumbly topping. The iced tea is very refreshing indeed, the marriage of lemon and bergamot providing a welcome antidote to the heat.
The décor is a cross between a kitchen and an art gallery, which is pretty ideal for me. It seems that the bakery has partnered with Rebecca Hossack Gallery and is exhibiting artists’ work at the various Gails around London. I’m sitting in front of Rebecca Jewell’s ‘Hummingbirds,’ very much embedded within the realm of natural history illustration, but delivered in an interesting manner.

I contemplate trying to be more like a hummingbird than a zombie, whilst the sourdough loaves beside me pass silent, yeasty judgement. I might purchase one and turn it into croutons. It’s raining outside, at least my courgette plant won’t be zombified any more.

by Chris

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s