"it is a balmy septembernacht in london and my flight had just arrived from berlin. all the contests had warned me so far to smoke as if the ice age comes, but there I sat in a T-shirt comfortable but hungry. Of course, smartphones choose our meal in these days and instead of wandering around possibly with a less than hearty meal, I flicked through the four square app. I came over a seemingly decent restaurant with a 8.9 rating that was only 0.2 miles away. the decision was made and I was scared to the “Chicken Shop”. the cake “Chicken Shop” back to home in Australia in style strong pictures of a small family business with delicious rotisserie huh, but in a dirty view of a load. Typically there would be cold metal furniture, greasy flowing floors and a flickering blue insect light on the back, which intermittently flushes, as it takes out the bugs that did not land in the food. it's fast and easy, not pretty, but it's sure how the hell is delicious. That's exactly what I expected when I arrived at the location kentish town. I couldn't find the entry first. I was hopeless looking for an oversized fluorescent window with a friendly looking international load owner behind a chrome counter top. Instead, I finally noticed a doorway with a minimalist sign above that shows the word “Chicken Shop”. I started to hear the sounds of emotional music when I walk down the polished wooden stairs, which on a dimly illuminated restaurant floor with designer furniture, candles, stylish decoration and a well-stocked bar. it was certainly not the picture I had on the way forward. the waiter greeted me with a warm smile and explained that the menu sits on the wall on the back, similar to the chicken shops at home. the concept has made sense. they took the classic idea of a family-run almost food shop, but added the flair of the fine-smeller. the place radiates class, but it does not lose its friendly local huh business feeling. I was excited about my order of half a chicken and watched how the chefs raised 24 hours of marinated, steamed and rotisserie roasted birds in the open kitchen. the hunch came ready in a takeaway polystyrene box. I made myself eager to the top to find a nice place through a canal or in a park to shove on the tasty quality. the odour that was overcome by my carry bag took over me and I sat on a bordstein as if there were no tomorrow. the box flew open in holy Grail fashion to see the delicious looking golden brown, juicy huh they hope to see from here to timbuktu. during the meal, I was only plastered for a second to mourn the loss of a piece that I had dropped during my trance as eating condition. I didn't want to waste the tasty eating and offered it to a passing puppy. the owner chased her dog disgusting. if only this pooch knew what he missed. I'm done and licked the house made hot soße clean of my fingering. finger lick good they say? in any case!"
Lemon Tart
