LITTLE BUNS...

Just one of many charming times I've had recently avec mes amies du bloggage was the little bun moment. I first started going on about the little bun moment to anyone who'd listen months before the St.John hotel opened, as soon as their website was up, which detailed this most civilised sounding and curious interlude: between 3pm and 5pm they would serve three warm little buttock-like buns (their words), one filled with anchovy, one with prune and one with chocolate, "which should be enjoyed with champagne. Or tea, if you must."

In my eagerness I even phoned the number on the website to ask about it and got slightly short shrift from someone who told me it would only be available to hotel guests. Oh. (It isn't.) Then the hotel opening was delayed, I lost my bun momentum somewhere, everyone round here got sick of me rhapsodising about the idea of the little bun moment and it didn't end up happening. Until last week, when sweet C, perhaps realising the importance this whole bun thing had assumed in my psyche, and I arranged to meet there at 3pm one afternoon. I was extremely excited about the little bun moment, as you are when you get to do something you've been wanting to do for ages, and that something involves champagne on a Wednesday afternoon. I opened my front door to a raging monsoon, then I spent the whole journey from home battling pathetically with my umbrella and talking to myself going, I really am never going to get one of these bloody buns am I? All I ever wanted was a little bun, etc...

The rain cleared as I headed through Chinatown to the hotel and went up to the bar, which is as you'd expect, minimally decorated - a light filled room with sofas facing each other, blue rubber flooring, white walls with pretty fantastic lights lining them and a table with a pile of newspapers on. C arrived, also soaked through, and we perused the menu. It seemed rude not to have a glass of champagne to start, seeing as we were here to do things properly. They brought our little steamed buns on a tiered stand and advised us to eat them in the correct anchovy, prune, chocolate order. I like a sense of ceremony to an occasion. It felt like being in a foreign country and culture, sitting by the slightly open window, a breeze wafting in, the outside view of Chinatown changing from heavy rain and wind blowing people's umbrellas inside out, to sunshine and back again a few times. The anchovy bun was perfect with champagne, and by the time we got to the chocolate buns, we'd moved onto tea, which was also a perfect pairing. I'm sure that's no accident and I like that thoughtfulness. Of course you're going to have one glass of champagne, go oh, better not it's only four, and move onto drinking tea. The little bun moment was pretty much as great as I had hoped and expected. It was a perfect afternoon, ensconced away from the elements having a ritual to savour and appreciate.