Before going to Sparrow I had a major strop. It was the boy’s birthday. We live down the road. As an elaborate ruse, I planned to order an Uber for the five minute journey to throw him off the scent. Aren’t I extravagant. But the Uber was at a 2.0 surge. We waited 11 minutes and it was still sat around the corner – actually by the restaurant. Now we were 15 minutes late for journey that should take only five. I became agitated, got into a huff, and made us walk. I told him where we going on the way, although I could have made up some bollocks about going to Lewisham station. Then I told him where we going after (Oliver’s Jazz Bar), which was just churlish. It took me a good ten minutes to calm down. We just made the reservation and got wedged in the corner. Luckily I like corners so we were all good.
And thank God we did make it, because Sparrow is a slice of pure South London heaven. It sticks out like a beautiful thumb on the sore hand of Lewisham. In a good way. It was packed. Everyone was a bit older, which I might have mentioned I like before because I’m getting old innit, and it makes me feel vaguely younger sitting around with people my age and up. I am painting a terrible picture of myself.
Anyway the greatness started straight off with the bread. They slather the loaf in oil and bake it in the oven, then slice it up still hot. The result? Crispy and deep fried crust and innards like a soft duvet. Fuck me it’s the best bread I’ve ever eaten. I didn’t even use butter, I just ate it plain. It tasted like devil’s dough, the Chinese pastry you get wrapped in cheung fun at dim sum. Delicious.