London is too big for the Good Life Eatery and the Good Life Eatery is much too small for London. It amazes me that in the era of avocado and epoch of courgetti, the capital hasn’t cultivated many more of these #glutenfree #dairyfree #meatfree #lactofree #refinedsugarfree health nut eating outposts. There’s Juice Baby along the Kings Road and Maple and Fitz, which Instagram informs me are also pretty good. But evidently these and the cramped quarters of Sloane Avenue’s GLE are not enough to feed the hangry yogis.
The thing is, it’s not just for hangry yogis. It’s genuinely delicious enough to draw food tourists, fur coated Russian women and an elderly man wearing a fetching ladies Whistles scarf (whether knowingly or not I couldn’t tell). Which is why on any given Saturday, it’s total chaos in there. Like human Tetris with enough queue anxiety to cancel out the virtue of anything that will (eventually) pass your lips.
On my first visit we sat down early enough for breakfast to still feel appropriate. I had the Rise and Shine bowl which ticked off most trendy food items in one go: chia pudding, coconut yoghurt, almond and hazelnut butter, GF homemade granola, photogenic fruit garnish etc. The portion size was deceivingly generous and the chia seeds must have continued swelling up inside me because I spent the rest of the day feeling like an overfed sloth as I dragged myself around southwest london.
My second, most recent visit was supposed to be breakfast but, given said queuing situation, turned into lunch. Amidst the chaos and admiring the gentleman’s Whistles scarf I panicked ordered some blah-looking courgetti dish. I was grumpy and disappointed until the heap of cold courgette noodles arrived and amazingly they tasted good. I can’t be exactly sure of how much deliciousness was attributable to feeling #healthy and #smug. But I’m pretty sure I didn’t entirely lose my mind.
If the queue situation improved, the Good Life Eatery is a place I would regularly trek to West London for; a place I would bring my out of town friends to, to show them how hip and trendy London is. The discovery of a Marylebone outpost brought momentary hope but it turns out they’ve had some terribly bad luck with flooding and and are our of action for another few months. So all I’m asking for is perhaps another location. Maybe somewhere near my office so I can fritter away my salary on expensive spiralized vegetables and morally superior smoothies on a regular basis.