we were only scheduled to be in london for 10 days, until eyjafjallajökull erupted and gave us a bit of a bonus extra holiday. before then, we operated on a strict program that had been planned and refined over the preceding months, via a very comprehensive spreadsheet. with first day brunch at ottolenghi done and dusted, we found ourselves on the train, richmond-bound, for second day lunch at petersham nurseries.

out of the station, we walked down the high street to get there, and along the river, and through a muddy paddock, and up a dusty driveway, and through a little of the nursery, and arrived in good time to be shown to our table in a large tentish room with a dirt floor (a tent festooned with enormous bunches of fresh flowers, and strewn with mismatched furniture of varying vintage). my sister thought it was important that we have bread and butter, and lemonade, and quick! and then there they were.

the menu was streamlined – just three options for each course — and according to one of the nicest waitresses in the world, might change from day to day depending on produce available. friday, i was lucky enough to have…

fried artichokes with a caper and mint dressing
such a riot of crispy edges and zingy flavours! such a joyous jumble of leaves! the play of textures was fun indeed as i mix-matched artichoke outsides (brown and crunchy as chips) and insides (pale, soft, and mildly tangy) with capers and lemon juice and minced-up mint leaves that no doubt found their way into all the crevices of my teeth. smile!

grilled sardines with aioli
you know, it looked modest on the plate, and felt light to eat it — all those lemony, fish oily flavours — but golly, i was stuffed when i was done. the sardines were plump and moist, and the sauteed chard yielding, and the lovely dollop of aioli — so full in the mouth, i only needed a little dab on each forkful of fish, and made it last right ’til the end.

almond tart
we had been excited to read it on the menu, and gleeful to see it at the table — this sturdy wedge of pastry with the lazy slurp of cream and candied orange syrup. it was even pleasing to eat, but alas, in the end, the crunchy pastry shell filled with dense frangipane, rough-hewn nuts and rind completely vanquished us. we probably would have appreciated it more on its lonesome, with a big cup of tea, and not the legacy of three fat sardines and as many crisp-fried artichokes.

stracciatella ice cream
truly, the surprise winner of the show. the ice cream — presented in a heavy drinking glass — was super premium, rich and creamy, and served at exactly the right, just melty temperature. mixed very generously into this were more bits of good dark chocolate than you’d think necessary, or possible. the ice cream makes its way down your throat, and then the shards of chocolate melt away and linger on your tongue. blissful, it was, even when the pain of distended belly kicked in. i could not stop eating this.

it looks simple, does it not? this food? there was nothing extraneous on the plate; each course just a tumble of a few flavours, and no adornment except for its necessary elements. but it all looked beautiful, and tasted much more wonderful than what you might expect from such spare plating. everything that could be eaten — with the exception of the noble almond tart — was.

they serve coffee from a cafetière here, or any number of floral infusions. no, not a single normal tea, grumble. so i picked mint from the list recited by the waitress, and was brought a comforting pot of green. a fine way to conclude a meal in the middle of a garden centre on a sunny springtime afternoon.