You can walk past somewhere a hundred times, and it's not until you really fancy a fry-up that you seriously pay attention. The Cafe Crescent is one of these ignorable places, not flashy on the outside, but a complete treasure on the inside.
The grub is top-rate. The chips are fat, flat and rigorous. And there's not too many of them. These chips think about your waist. A little. The egg has chosen a new way to express itself, looking slightly like a white nun bending to inspect a fleck on her habit. And the bacon and beans are simply doing bacon-nes and bean-ness. But very, very, well. I was trying to work out why it all looks so gorgeous, which it does. And then I realised that maybe it's the way the table-cloth sets it off so well. Its the same effect that Heinz use with that bluey-greeny tin for their beans, it makes the beans more orangey and delicious.
See?
Makes the tea look nice too.
And the condiments climb like a rocky clif-face from the table cloth sea.
Then you look up from your food and have a little nose around, and you realise that this is no ordinary greasy spoon, you realise this is a classier joint. They offer you a nice bit of fish on the specials and they're open for more interesting fare in the evenings. And what's that music they're playing? It's opera. And they like their theatre in here, theatrical posters festoon the walls. There are even glossy magazines to read, not the usual red-top silliness.
I like this place a lot. I shall be going back.