Although I’ve never actually lived in England, my British genes have an undeniably strong impact on my food cravings. Every once in a while, I’ll find myself dreaming of soggy Weetabix in pools of velvety custard. I’ll secretly pour hot milk into my tea and swear at the fact that there’s hardly any decent bread pudding in town. I’ll start giggling at the thought of giant Creme Eggs, or have nightmares about drowning in fast flowing rivers of clotted cream.
Thankfully, there’s Gartine. Gartine satisfies my British sweet tooth whilst actually being organic, wholesome and as far from soggy weetabix as you can possibly get. The owners own a piece of land outside town, where they grow their own produce. So the pumpkins in their quiches, the apples in their pie and the raspberries in their home-made jams are all from their own garden. Yes, it’s incredibly cute, but most of all it’s incredibly good.
Gartine’s lavender-walled space is very, very tiny, so you’ll need to call in advance. Make sure to take your time, too. It’s quite a battle to the last crumb, and I’ve rarely left without feeling slightly overwhelmed and high as a sugar kite after consuming three tiers of cake, fresh almond milk and a couple of gallons of tea. But it’s exactly how I used to feel after three days of Christmas at my gran’s – I don’t mind the feeling one bit.