S&M Portobello Road

268 Portobello Road, W10 5TY

That Sunday morning hangover; Christmas, away from home; cardless on Valentine’s Day; being made redundant; a crowded retail nightmare; the unexpected death of Fluffy the cat; the unexpected arrival of Ouch the Inland Revenue bill: these times they are a-stressful. During these rocky moments every one of us feels the need to visit our ‘special place’ and a short sojourn to the abating comfort zone usually does the trick. Which is where S&M comes in. Hmm, kinky.

Torture Garden this isn’t, however. Despite there being a certain amount of red vinyl and greasy sausage involved, S&M’s only guilty innuendo is its conceptual leanings towards a traditional British caff.

Ahh, the caff, picture it if you will – the grotty end of Portobello Road where the Westway Flyover looms like the edge of the world and where only oblivious drunkards and stern housewives dare to venture. This is too far for tourists. They know nothing of S&M’s 50s chic authenticity: its vinyl gingham tablecloths; its walls plastered with bygone Hollywood angels; its music following suit. Nostalgia is our comfort zone and S&M claims to be ‘The World’s No.1’.

As fat frying (the Greasy Spoon way) is out and forward thinking is in, S&M’s brand of retro is futuristic: food sourced locally; use of ethical tea and coffee; concerns about salt, saturated fats, carbon footprinting, GM products and felines friends called Fluffy. The appearance of healthier salad-and-sandwich options will further appease the conscience, but really, who cares? We want to gorge on reminiscence. We want to do as the company banner tells us and ‘Eat Ourselves Happy’. We want Mum’s best stodge to make it all the bad stuff go away. We’ll get back to saving the world once we’ve been saved from it.

At times like this comfort takes the form of several swollen tubes of tightly wrapped yumminess, served on a potatoey pillow and drenched in blanket of brown medicine. Provided your blues are really objectionable, and the yearning for a proper food hug is overpowering, then the five-step sausage and mash process is the only way to go.

Firstly, pick your meal ‘type’ - are you the standard Mix & Mash sort or do you work with heavy machinery and therefore require a Desperate Dan-sized platter?

Then comes the flavour decision. Traditional (like Cumberland), unusual (like Chicken and Asparagus) and seasonal varietals (like wintery Guinness) make this the toughest step of all.

Step three is the mash up: traditional velvet, spring onion & herb styleeee or the bubble & squeak remix.

Step four is the point at which you only have eyes for mustard and honey gravy.

Then, the final step is the veg, which is simply dominated by mushy peas.

All this can be washed down with a selection of antiquated beverages such as Victorian lemonade or Dandelion & Burdock, both adding to the sentimental mood. Or, if you’re feeling particularly melancholy, try drowning your sorrows in the mini wine list or perhaps in a bottle of London Pride (which go nicely with the all-day breakfast, especially en route to an after party).

If the blues still don’t disappear after that deluge of comfort then a brawl with the bread and butter pudding should finish the job. Failing that, a brief bit of retail therapy in the Portobello boutiques could help settle things (unless the reason for your depression is a recent credit card bill).

Aside from the longer than average waiting periods, this is a pretense free, ‘ave a cap o’ tea, realm of hearty goodness which does for Portobello Road what Blanky did for thumbsucking.