I love Spuntino. Everyone does. Perfect for the solo diner, so that’s where I headed yesterday to fuel up before dodging the tourists on Oxford St on Saturday. Yeah, stupid I know, but I needed some winter clothes.

I like free things. Everyone does. So to walk into Spuntino and instantly be handed a Clover Club cocktail with the explanation that a new person was having cocktail training, was like winning a very tiny but very pleasing lottery. Timing is everything.

Feeling like a lady who lunches in dark Brooklyn via London Soho diners with a cocktail in hand, I set up shop in the corner. Considering I’m a bit of a creep who can’t stay away from Spuntino and already loved the menu, to see new items on there was alike winning another tiny food lottery.

Holy shit, these were a revelation. In general day to day life, I talk about food like a perve, very much akin to how a dirty old man would whisper nothings at a young woman given half a chance. Gross, right? Well that’s me and food. And that’s how I felt about these figs. A drop of gorgonzola in the middle, wrapped in proscuitto and then baked, and served on rocket, walnuts and balsamic vinegar. I can’t think of enough perverted adjectives to these the hot, gooey, melty justice they deserve. Seriously good. Ergh. I want more right now.

Considering I’m all of 5’5″ (I think), to think I could eat all of this was either A) ambitious or B) Stupid. I like to think the former rings true. Not one to ignore cravings, I’ve been thinking about mac and cheese all week since reading an article on the Guardian’s food section about the perfect M&C. Seeing as I’m scared of my oven, the reality of me actually making it at home was never going to happen, hence my order of M&C for one. Crispy top, lava-hot cheese. You know it’s good when the melty cheese strings hit your chin and you still power on through. I made it through 90% of it. Not bad.

It was at about this point I was gifted with my 2nd cocktail training cocktail. I made it through about half it. It was pretty much all whiskey. I was already drunk by the 2nd sip and could already feel my cheeks burning. My tolerance for real alcoholic drinks is not high. I fail.

The strawberry and coconut mess has been replaced with a fig and honey version. I don’t know if it was because I was attempting to eat the whole thing on my own, but it was a little but too sweet. If I wasn’t such a greedy guts, and was sharing it between 2, I don’t think I would have felt like a diabetic snorting pure sugar as I did at that very moment.

Spuntino is brilliant. And delicious. But you already knew that, right?


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