|Fabio, Daniel, Jesus (the chef), Giorgi, with Mirelle and Paola|
I don't know why I haven't written about this place before, as it played a large part in my City life. The Village was originally a greasy spoon in the back of our office building just off Mitre Square where The Ripper did for his eighth victim and was taken over at the end of the 80s by a family of enterprising Italians who cleaned it up but kept it totally unpretentious. It became my breakfast haunt for 20+ years.
I would take my Lloyd's List in there at about 7am and have the same breakfast every day - poached egg on toast with grilled tomatoes and a large latte. The waitresses were sometimes Romanian doctors moonlighting while they got their British credentials. Friends would come in and we would sit and chat and catch up on the news or the gossip. A wonderful way to start the day.
Although I no longer go there I was sad to see that the place had recently closed as the building is awaiting renovation. I don't know where they've gone but I'm sure somewhere they are making people happy.