Twas brillig in slithey Clapham and various hungover 20-somethings were gyring and gimbling on the common. I don’t often venture south of the river, but for a friend’s birthday I set off through the driving rain with intrepidation to meet at The Devonshire confident that if the worst came to the worst I had heard tales of beamish Waitroses nearby, so could always grab a quick snack. Luckily The Devonshire outgrabe, or at least outdid my expectations; not least because the bartender knew I couldn’t have a yorkshire pudding and informed me that the chef had a coeliac in the family. Oh frabjous day!
The menu was a good selection of gastro pub-grub with a fair few options for me. One-two, one-two I chomped through and through a goats cheese and walnut salad with a cheeky side of roast potatoes. I just love salad with bits in. The portion size was hearty, the cheese creamy, the pears sweet. What a shame then that I was told in no uncertain terms that “all of” the exciting sounding icecreams contained gluten. So it was that we went galumphing back via Waitrose after all.