Veg Out: The London Plane
Recently, I attempted to lunch at The London Plane, a new restaurant/bakery/larder/flower shop/meticulously curated foodtique in Pioneer Square. The place was so bright and airy and ORDERLY. And it was so full of young, chambray-clad employees who somehow managed to make ticking-stripe aprons and clogs—yes, CLOGS—look effortlessly chic that I thought if I lingered there long enough, I WOULD TURN INTO A BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY. But it was packed to the gills with diners and browsers. Lunch for one would have required at least a 30-minute wait.
So I hastily bought a few items out of the case and trudged back to work. Said trudging required me to scale a rather steep hill that covers multiple blocks, as many Seattle-based trudges do.
While waiting at the intersection at the bottom of the hill, I encountered an intensely sweaty man who was doing some kind of CrossFit-esque workout during his lunch break. He was carrying a sizable kettlebell in each hand. This forced him to stop and rest about every 10 steps.
And he still made it to the top of the hill before me.
In my defense, I was carrying a croissant. An extremely buttery croissant.
In addition, I was hauling nearly half a pound of chickpeas doused in spicy tomato sauce and sprinkled with feta, as well as some freshly baked rye crackers. Later, I topped the crackers with sharp cheddar, thinly sliced by hand for a little extra bicep and tricep work.
1) Brunch at The London Plane is seriously good and seriously veggie-friendly. After my failed lunch attempt, I went back with Jules and a few dear friends. Pictured above: Thick slices of Matt Dillon’s frenzy-inducing sourdough bread, toasted and topped with parsnip-fig spread; cardamom tea cake with rose sugar and cream; stinging-nettle-and-porcini quiche buried under raw vegetable salad; and eggs, harissa-fried, with deeply crispy edges and still-runny yolks.
2) After brunch, I bought some garden roses. A chambray-clad florist carefully hand-tied them into a bouquet for me. Please don’t tell her that they ended up on such a disorderly desk. Currently, their divine fragrance mingles with a subtle hint of Eau de Cheese Puff.
3) Can we still be friends if I buy these silver clogs and wear them to work?