I knew I'd been here before. I'm sure I'll come again. It's because every time I go here, I'll probably come to the Acton Town Cafe. It's just across the road. That's a happy thought.
A brilliantly generous EBCB, it has a feeling of plenitude, of milk and honey, abundance. Almost like some sort of genie (or djinn) has invented a bottomless plate that keeps disgorging food into the middle of the plate. Brilliant. Look at all those beans, you could lose yourself in there.
But the highlight has to be the chips. These actually move the definition of chips on somewhat. These aren't just bits of something, these are no chips off any block, these are slabs of substance, crispy, crunchy planks of potato-y perfection. These might even be bigger than the original potato. (Maybe the Djinn again?) This is a textbook EBCB. Very, very nice.
Good cup of tea too. Solid. Beefy. You can tell railway people come in here. They demand a decent cuppa.
That looks awesome doesn't it? Like it would survive an earthquake and not through being cleverly designed to move and float in the earthquake but because they're big and solid and grounded.
Nice big tables too. You and three generously sized friends can sprawl in here. Relax. Spread out. Maybe loosen the belt a notch or too before setting the world to rights. Acton Town Cafe. I salute you. I will return. Map