Patisserie Valerie

I have written before about the pleasure that is breakfast on a weekend. A self-indulgent feast to counteract the daily drudgery of cereal. A few weeks ago, we decided that we would have breakfast at the central Oxford branch of Patisserie Valerie. Although neither of us are huge fans of national chains, the cakes in the window were rather seductive. Sadly appearances can be deceptive.

Things started with moderate promise. As well as cakes, the menu had a fry up on it. Admittedly it was a fry-up costing eight quid; a bit steep if you ask me. However, it showed that there were at least decent ingredients on the premises; specifically bacon and bread. You may see where this is going. A bacon sandwich seemed like a distinct possibility.  All good so far. Unfortunately things didn't turn out to be that simple. I started my request with a suitably sheepish, "I know it's not strictly speaking on the menu but..." My request for a bacon sandwich was met with a look of such confused blankness that I began to think I had asked for a pollonium-cooked paving slab in some obscure conversational Zwahili dialect. Eventually I was told that a bacon sandwich was impossible in a tone that questioned why anyone would want such a thing ever! This didn't endear the place much. How hard can it be? Bacon, bread, a bit of butter and maybe some brown sauce. It doesn't take a Michelin star. It doesn't even really take opposable thumbs. Given the cooks in the building can prepare a fry up, a bacon sandwich shouldn't be beyond their ability.To add insult to injury I was then helpfully informed that they have bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches.

Oh wait, so they can place some bacon between bread. They just need superfluous pollution too. Or maybe it's hot ingredients that prove a problem. A sharp kick on the shin from my other-half prevented me asking for a B.L.T. minus the L. and the T.

Grumblingly I settled for my pastry staple, a pain aux chocolate. All I can say is that I wish I hadn't bothered. Sometimes hunger can be the preferable alternative. We were given virtually no option about having our pastries heated. They were being given their blast in the microwave whether we liked it or not. Sadly this did little to conceal the fact that they tasted like they had been sitting on a shelf for at least a day and had then been dropped in cement. If you think all of this is sour grapes about my beloved bacon sandwich then I can confirm that my girlfriend found her pastry almost inedible too.

So to recap, my preferred choice wasn't available and the backup option was distinctly unpalatable. A saving grace would be that it was cheap but there was no such luck there either. Two hot drinks and a couple of pastries cost nearly fifteen quid. A bit steep in anybody's books especially given the poor service and the disappointing food.

I would like to report some mitigating features to recommend this place but unfortunately I can't. We didn't even get the the bill quickly thus delaying our escape to pastures more fun.

My honest advice; if you're walking past a Patisserie Valerie and fancy a snack, keep walking. You might be lucky and find a bit of rubble or some old cigarette butts to nibble on.

TFB