NOTTING
HILL
London can be a lonely place. A disparate metropolis where our heads are bowed, schedules filled, and doors locked. At least that can be the sense. However, beneath the surface, in the neighbourhoods, life’s most valuable commodity - that of community - is bountiful.
In Notting Hill, I have four favourite hubs, where friends – new and old – gather in communion.
When returning to London after the pandemic, I found this feeling of family at LAYLA, the creation of my brilliant friend Tessa, who employed me as less-talking-more-selling-please-Simon.
The word ‘companion’ comes from the Latin ‘cum panis’, or ‘with bread.’ Tessa understood that the village of W10 was full of characters who would enjoy breaking bread. They just needed a baker.
“I love that Layla has given people rituals. The Friday Coffee Club, the dog walkers, my favourite French couple who perch in the window each morning. The father and daughter brightening up the school run. Or the twin sisters who start more days than me with a Pain au Chocolat. Seeing this joy, it brings me joy. Running this business can be stressful. There have been many moments when I have asked myself ‘why?’ Trying to find the right balance between my own life – between being a mother – and my work. It is not easy. But I think back to arriving in London, more than decade ago, as a Lettings Agent, and then what I do now. I have never felt more like myself. It has given me a confidence, and a sense of worth, that I did not know before. Last Saturday, I looked at the queue, at a team that I am incredibly proud of, and I couldn’t quite believe it was mine.”
Over the bridge and into Italy. A country which understands that the ingredients of a life well lived are free and familial. By walking through the doors at PANELLA you join Giuseppe and Caterina’s family, and kitchen.
“Everything made in our kitchen is made with love. Guiseppe cooks like he is cooking for our family. We were told that it was the wrong side of the bridge. That we wouldn’t last more than a few months. But here we are, seven years on. I treat it like an extension of our home. If someone is causing a commotion, upsetting others, then I send them elsewhere. The community who gather under the tower are our family. They keep coming, and this gives us strength and confidence.”
“Back home in Sicily, hospitality is in the blood. If you ask for directions, you end up being invited round for dinner. We try to bring that same generosity. Cooking simple, authentic, and affordable food. One Sunday each month we collect all the leftovers from local markets and serve 100+ meals for those who cannot afford them. I always used my pocket money – 1,000 lire – to buy two panella. There was quite a gap between me and my siblings, so I found myself in the kitchen cooking with my mother. I don’t think she has quite forgiven me for leaving Palermo, but I wanted to stand on my own. She is 83-years-old, and still sending us recipes to try.”
The next door may take a little finding, but in an old warehouse on Elkstone Road, you step into a pocket of Portugal at SPORTING LONDRES. Unchanged in 30-years, Paula and Rui’s hidden gem transports you to those moreish sea salt and sardine-filled trips to the sun.
“Funnily enough, our Mums were neighbours back home in Madeira. So, when Rui took over this restaurant in the early 90s, my Mum suggested I come down. It worked, and we were soon running it together! We have put in some windows, and added the odd lick of paint, but nothing else has changed. We like that people step inside and go ‘wow, there is a restaurant in here!’ Our chef is Portuguese, offering people a taste of home. On Sundays in summer we open up the shutters to have a big family BBQ, and play some bingo. We know each customer personally. They like that familial sense. It is comforting. Our roots lie in football, with shirts on the wall, and every game shown. Ronaldo’s mother and sister have come to eat, but we are still waiting for him!”
Another fabulous import is ABU MAHER and this taste of Syria named after its owner. Displaced by the war, with his family divided, he cooks, waits, and cleans to keep costs in check. This restaurant is a story of hope, and a snapshot of a world – and indeed a neighbourhood – that I am proud to live in.
“We have been given an incredible gift. To no longer sleep with one eye open. As the war came to Aleppo, we fled. Our family split. Four of our five children have found new homes elsewhere. Arriving here, I knew I had to learn the language. I studied at university, and spent evenings listening to the BBC. This country, and its people, are kind and welcoming. I wanted to give back. I was desperate to. When this space became available, I had the chance. My son set-up the technology and designed the menus. I cannot afford to employ anyone so I do the cooking, waiting, and cleaning. Even if it was safe to return, we would not. We don’t want leave our home again.”
