The humble London café has come a long way since those days of the gutturally hacked 'caff'. Where a lively layer of white froth on your coffee merely meant that, either the milk was off, or the chef still had some issues with your comments about his bangers 'n' beans.

A decade or two later, and there's a Starf*cks scarring every corner in the city - its grande-skinny-half-caf-double-shot-extra-chocolate-cappuccino-hold-the-creams practically de rigueur.

Now, when I was a sprog, delis were rare and homely joints - somewhere like the eternal Lina's on Brewer Street the epitome of the breed. Yet, when Fernandez & Wells rocked up, the homely deli collided at full pelt with the foam-perfect café and female-friendly wine-bar, all wrapped in a modern shabby-chic wrapper. And we lapped it up.