the day brings plenty of sun and wind. and i don’t mean samfa’s gas, but a strong breeze blows through the droopy trees on medhuziyaaraiy magu as samfa, our friend inayath, and i walk towards holm.

yes, that holm! it’s been years in the making, and today, it’s finally open for business. finally. i am dying to eat a good pastry, i will murder for a good pain au. i mean. it is after all a matter of life and death, like all things, in the end.

‘you’re not making any sense,’ says inayath. and how can i – i was famished even when we set out from our home.

‘i like how it smells,’ says samfa when we enter the restaurant. full disclosure, it’s owned by samfa’s relatives, but that won’t make me any kinder in my assessment.

the empty shelves of holm are a sad sight but we are assured they’ll be filled with plenty of tasteful things that the cafe intends to sell, like their frozen pastries, coffee, and other goods.

the furniture looks quite nice and is comfy, i really dig the terrazzo table tops. feels kind of european.

‘i’m so done with europe,’ says someone to samfa, as though they’ve heard my thought. ‘it costs ten times as much as thailand and you can’t even wear shorts. and the people are SO condescending.’

huh, look at this rich kid being over europe.

i order a pain au croissant, and an iced spanish latte, which they make with condensed milk. like vietnamese coffee. samfa orders a vegetarian sandwich, and inayath gets a sando with salmon.

‘a pain au CROISSANT, eh?’ samfa nudges inayath, making fun of me. ‘it’s pain au chocolat, you stupid man.’

anyhow, my order is first to arrive. the pain au is quite simply nuts. i love the flakiness, it’s a proper, proper croissant. deliciously buttery, i could get a heart attack with a few more of these. and i’d die a happy man.

‘give us a taste, you,’ says inayath, and so i do. the girls fawn over it. my spanish latte is nice, but no more so than a sweet vietnamese iced coffee from community coffee by modus.

as we wait for the sandwiches, samfa points to the TV in the cafe opposite us.

‘look!’ she says. ‘the music of THIS cafe is perfectly in sync with the dancing on THAT TV!’

and it IS! it’s almost like an instance of jungian synchronicity, both locked in, neither causing the other. what a fun and freaky coinci…dance. sorry.

the sandwiches are totally massive. samfa and i share hers because there’s no way that mama will fit in her tiny little belly. the bread is luscious, so fresh and crusty and soft. but the avocado is even crazier. and there’s lots of it, the green mush punctuated with little pops of brightness from sundried tomatoes.

i try some of inayath’s salmon sando but it’s a little fishy and i prefer ours by far.

on the recommendation of her relatives, samfa tries out a pastel de nata.

‘this is amazing,’ says samfa. ‘love the texture. the custard is wonderful, just the right amount of sweet.’

and as some of you may know, the little lady doesn’t even LIKE custard.

‘well?’ ask samfa’s relatives, crowding round our table. ‘well?’

‘you’ll see when you read the review,’ i tell them. ‘oh, and i’m not paying for any of this, OK?’