Darby and Tom
Hello, Tom here. We’re in London visiting the US Embassy - always a treat. As tour manager for the band, it falls on me to ensure we follow the proper procedures, and where international travel is concerned, there’s no room for error. I find these moments pretty anxiety-inducing at the best of times - did I bring the correct documents? Is that actually MY passport in my pocket or has my late Aunty Dorris’ somehow snuck in there by mistake? The heat, coupled with heightened security measures at the embassy, means the sweat is flowing so freely, I could bottle it. Come to think of it, if Cardinal Coffee Club doesn’t have legs, that could be our next venture. Food for thought.
Success! Visa’s approved! Brace yourself America, we’re coming for you!
It’s relatively slim-pickings in the immediate area surrounding the embassy; chain restaurants flood the ground floors of new-build developments, and with our parking close to expiry, we don’t have the time to make it to New Covent Garden Market. With low expectations, we take a short stroll to the end of the street, and there, with the beckoning power of a brothel to an old drunk, we find Darby’s. Or more specifically, Darby’s Next Door. The little sister to the restaurant that shares the same building, Darby’s Next Door is an independent, New York-themed bakery/breakfast spot serving bagels, pastries and some lunch time offerings too. There’s an obvious attraction to Darby’s; the small room is dressed immaculately, with only the stark newness of the building itself letting down the New York aesthetic. It’s a turn-of-the-century, red brick building away from a 5 stars for vibe. The staff are welcoming to obvious first-timers and despite the constant flow of new patrons, very attentive.
More than ready to eat, I'm wondering if the filled bagels are satisfaction enough or if they might undermine all the hard work I’ve been putting in lately to bulk up. I’ve heard the portion sizes are small in the US so I’m calorie loading now. Always be prepared… The answer is obvious, I need a pre-bagel morsel, a soupçon, something to get my jaw muscles prepped for the main event. Like an assassin of starvation, I prey on my next victim. Our eyes lock from across the room. Perhaps it's the excitement of my first breakfast of the day, perhaps the unseasonable London heat has made me ravenous. Either way, it's love at first sight. A tray of freshly baked croissants the size of a mid-threat puffer fish is carried past our table, head height. The waitress knows what’s she’s doing, the wafting scent of this pastry-based upsell has worked immediately.
Well, it was incredible. I’m a man of simple pleasures, I like my croissants plain, as the French kitchen gods intended. Keep your desiccated strawberry this and earl grey-infused that. BUTTERY SALTY GOODNESS is all I need (upon review, I realise my last statement sounds somewhat sexual in nature. Get your minds out of the gutter, dear reader, I’m strictly talking pastry here).
Now then, coffee. These days, I take my coffee black. At first glance you could be forgiven for thinking this is boring - of course, you would be wrong - but I’ll forgive you. It’s definitely an acquired taste, I’ll admit that, but it’s something that you grow into. Like the transition from drinking lager as a child to Guinness as an adult. When you do finally reach black coffee maturity however, the rewards are obvious and immediate. Black coffee is a pure, unadulterated expression of the bean—bold, rich, and quietly complex. Its deep aroma hints at earthy origins, while each sip reveals layers of bitterness, subtle sweetness, and smoky warmth. Stripped of distractions, black coffee is both a ritual and a revelation, awakening the senses with its elegant simplicity.
It stays fucking boiling hot for ages though… so watch out for that.
Where - Darby’s. 3 Viaduct Gardens, London. SW11 7AY
Coffee - ⭐⭐️⭐️⭐️
Vibe - ⭐⭐️⭐️⭐️
