Aubaine

Exquisite French Toast and Friendly Vibes

Nestled in the heart of South Kensington, just a short jaunt from the bustling avenues of London’s renowned museums, this restaurant is both a refuge and a revelation. Despite its prime position contributing somewhat to the price tag, the ambiance marries chic with cozy, lending each meal an intimate, almost familial quality—a true rarity for the city. On my visit, I wandered in for brunch amid a gentle, welcoming hum orchestrated by clinking cutlery and amiable chatter, as if the very décor had absorbed decades of delightful lunch-hour gossip. Just as enchanting was my first sip of their expertly crafted Virgin Mojito, hailed in reviews as divine—and it did not disappoint. The dish consistency upheld its delightful reputation as each bite of perfectly poached eggs or indulgently crisp toast elicited predictable smiles of approval both from me and the assembled breakfast congregation.

Service, too, builds part of any narrative here. Guided gently yet expertly through the Salem-spiced sweet potato experience and encouraged tenderly in mistruths of gluttony with lattice-like pastries that beg for morning sun pourings of velvety coffee, it struck a soothing balance between presence and non-intrusion. True, during a fleeting mid-week pause at cafe haven amidst daily bustle our promised gluten-free fairytale turned into chaotic crumbs whispered only half-hearted resistance against lurking allergens—a mistuned note in our longer symphony. Yet all was swiftly composed anew, the symphony softening with honeyed manners and candle-lit foods lest forks not stigmatise avo bites beneath time's hearty wagon. In sum then, though occasional meanders be seasoned refrains from perfect scores, the story's encore warrants return tickets—and reminders for pudding sooner fetched on silver plates towards doors whispered shut, plied more for depth than extravagant slapsticks. — Clarissa Cuisinier