Cheeky Scone

Delight in Notting Hill's Varied Scone Offerings

As if Gilles de Rais opened a patisserie in the heart of Notting Hill, there's a place perpetually enshrouded in the delicious aroma of fresh scones—Cheeky Scone. Entering this compact haven, greeted by joyous queues trickling from the door, it quickly becomes apparent that scarcity breeds another set of laws entirely; whether these rules concern clotted cream or jihad-worthy queues to occupy one of the mysteriously abundant cramped seats, it's one of those intricate dances bustling cities refine over centuries and demand with suitable decorum at venues just like this. The lineup outside may belie expectations, but fortunately for everyone, they move with the kind of unknowable efficiency Dickens would applaud.

Within these warm walls are magnificently vast and fallout-worthy scone varieties, deftly displayed with the finesse of a palace garden. That said, venture deeper into what feels, narratively at least, like an exploration of rural English rusticity. The lemon and poppy seed scone shone with an amaranthine allure, soaking in its own zest as promising cinema analogies flutter about uninvited into one's thoughts. It's an orchestra—a contrast to be believed—not least celebrated when conducive balance seems right on. Gratis tableau of the greedy jam partner, cream accompaniment crowd ready to liven things up as well. The informed visitor senses through myriad feisty discernments that procurement does not alter from choice, underpinning drama where interior maintenance wins or loses battles without flag blocking. Immerse further to discover bathrooms exhibit lackluster bounds; yet still, blamelessly embraced like hidden puzzles perilously grouped under 'retro-chic'. Crucially, allow a heartwarming round of applause for the culinary artisans nesting in those tables and off-stage areas who've made tunnel-to-the-underworld-separately-branded-upon approaches finish jolly. — Penelope Savory