MATILDA'S

It's hard to find a really good cafe latte in this city. Even though the ingredients are the same, the cafe con leche just doesn't hold up in comparison. In fact, cafe lattes aren't the only things I've been craving; bagels and bagel sandwiches, salad wraps, carrot cake, cup cakes and muligatawny soup have all been the objects of my desires at one point or another over the past six months. Never in my wildest cravings did I ever imagine I'd find a place that has it all, but I did and my only regret is not having found it sooner.

Matilda's is a tiny cafe, about the size of a walk-in closet that always seems to be full of people. The seating is limited to a banquette and a couple of stools but that doesn't dissuade people from standing around and soaking up the atmosphere. It's hard to put a finger on Matilda's style, the walls are papered in red, white and blue florals and stripes that give the impression of 4th of July Americana, but the presence of muligitawny soup... its got to be English.

The proprietors set out a new batch of cup cakes, cookies, muffins and cakes every day, as well as make fresh sandwiches, wraps and soups to order. Their coffee is divine and anyone feeling a little homesick, whether home is America or England, would feel well satisfied after a visit to Matilda's.

Matilda's

Chile 673

San Telmo, Buenos Aires

Baked Goods

Baked goods are near and dear to me in my life. When my family and I first moved to Bermuda I had a lot of trouble adjusting to life there so my mom would take me and my sister every Friday after school to an amazing bakery as a treat. Perhaps I am remembering it inaccurately but I recall this bakery as a little, limestone, square building occupying a spot in the fairway that divided the east and west flowing traffic of the only highway on the island. Without fail I always got a bottle of orange Crush and an apple tart and it was pure bliss. I savoured every crumb of that apple tart, licked every sticky finger and always lamented the fact that there wasn't more to enjoy as soon as it was gone. In the absence of an energetic social life at the age of 10 I looked forward to 'Bakery-Pit stop-Fridays' in the same way that I now look forward to happy hour after a long day at work.

This is probably why I have trouble walking by a bakery without pressing my nose up against the glass in my adult years. I had been resisting stopping in at the bakery located one block away from us, knowing that it would be a Pandora's Box of sorts, unleashing a flood of uncontrollable cravings. One Sunday afternoon the smell of fresh baked goods was just too powerful to resist and I found myself in there, mouth agape and eyes darting from shelf to shelf trying to mentally process the plethora of baked goods that rested on every available space. Heaps of croissants, buns, strawberry, ricotta, and marmalade frosted danishes, tarts and tartlettes, dulce de leche cookies, donuts, fried dough, chocolate, vanilla, assorted fruit and cheesecakes as far as the eye could see! I didn't get anything that day because it was too overwhelming, like someone who goes from having nothing to everything in an instant, I just didn't know what to do with myself so I left.

Unluckily for me I work very early in the morning, every morning, and must be confronted by the waft from the bakery almost everyday as the pastries start coming out of the oven. Like sailors to the siren's call it wasn't long before I found myself shipwrecked in there again, but this time with a plan. I bought an assortment of nearly everything and took them home to devour with Graham, and devour them we did. Since that fateful first day one or both of us have been in there almost everyday to pick up a little pick-me-up, and the rate of days I go to the gym has increased proportionally. One of the bakers even knows us by sight now, and although I can't exactly understand him, I'm sure he looks forward to seeing us as much as we look forward to buying from him, like the relationship that exists between addicts and their dealer.