Homemade soup and artisan bread for £3? I can spend £3 in a Sainsbury’s Local on their not-so-appealing meal deals and come away hungrier than a pre-metamorphosing caterpillar. But this rare value is what attracted me to The BreadRoom cafe in Brixton Market; I could eat out for lunch at a very reasonably rate. In fact, I was pretty stuffed, but even if you wanted something more carbohydrate based, you’d still receive change from your fiver with one of The BreadRoom’s sandwiches.
At only £4 a sandwich, the list of fillings do not have the diversity of say, Rosie’s Deli Cafe, but gracing the menu are still the stalwart favourites; mozarella and pesto, parma ham, chicken, and cheddar slabs. Limited some might say, and perhaps a bit economical with the frills, but you’d have to be a bit fussy if your tastes were not accommodated. Quiche of the day and a salad also only came to £4, and on the saccharine front, cakes, pastries and baked goods sat out on the front bench waiting to be plucked like ripe fruit.
My soup was broccoli and coriander. Yes, broccoli and coriander. An alarming green colour (although I guess if it was supposed to be carrot and coriander, then I’d be slightly more alarmed), but definitely homemade nonetheless. Broccoli and coriander’s ring on the ears does not have quite the same familiarity as perhaps its aforementioned rooted cousin. Sometimes there is an ultimate, but not completely unavoidable tendency, to overcook any and every vegetable which finds its way into soup. You’ll know when broccoli is overcooked, it adopts like its fellow brassicas, a distinctive odour. The broccoli inhabiting my soup, was forgiveable, but not technically immune from this faint scent.
I ate it all which, considering the generous portion size, was a reasonable challenge; it was a wholesome and hearty dish most appropriate for a cold, hungry day. It was also quite thick; a little runnier would have dribbled down a bit better on my palate, but that’s personal taste. Another time and on a non-broccoli flavoured day, I’d come again. It’s nigh on impossible to get a fulfilling lunch for under a fiver in London. My accompanying bread was well toasted (and by that I do not mean burnt, just a little too dry; the doughy-ness beyond the external toasted crust had become a little dessicated).
The BreadRoom is a small and cosy affair which felt somewhat awkward when all the seats were full. I was afraid I was going to fling my spoon high into the air and straight onto the lap of my – very – proximal neighbour. It’s also the kind of place where personal noises are not welcome; that is probably the advice I’d give to my – very – proximal neighbour. Still, it was comfortable when the noisy diners left, and the generic lift music took a siesta.
I was impressed with their veritable selection of loose-leaf teas – there was not an imprisoned tea leaf in sight – and a fine selection including Moroccan mint, green tea and jasmine, and rooibos, among more traditional blends.
BreadRoom by name, and bread room by nature; all of their doughy offerings are baked with Shipton Mill Organic Flour – I assume this means it is good? Apparently the baker also creates his own sourdough liquid for a selection of the breads which are available to purchase as individual loaves.
The BreadRoom is a cafe which doesn’t convey quite the right atmosphere to make you want to linger for a long lunch. It misses the personal touch. From the matching barstools to the god-awful tables, there’s a sense of ‘eat lunch and be done’. However, I was full, and full of homemade value-for money soup, which ensured my Scottish tight-waddedness didn’t not rear its ugly head. And with that I was happy.