Pophams — Restaurant in London

A friend evangelised the pastries at Pophams to no end, so we had no choice but to heed her advice and trudge to Islington to sample her two recommendations: the Bacon and Maple Swirl and the Ham and Cheese croissant.

There's no need to agonize over which to pick. The mandate is both. 'Til today, I refuse to pick a winner.

The Maple Bacon Swirl is a beauty: smoked streaky bacon is coiled neatly within a pastry snail shell, then brushed with a maple glaze. It's phenomenal: a triple threat on the palette of savoury, sweet, and smokey, carried by a croissant that is lamination perfection. One bite in and it was crystal clear that this would be a shoo-in contender for my croissant hall of fame. Pedestrian Parisian croissants have got nothing on this one.

The mark of a good viennoiserie is if the front of your shirt resembles that of a dandruff victims' post-bite. It's got to be shatter heaven, and you shouldn't be able to eat the croissant neatly. This rings even more true for Popham's Ham and Cheese croissant, which is topped with cheese that crusts up when baked, then cracks in protest when you push a knife through it. I'm not sure what baking voodoo was enlisted here, but unlike most Ham and Cheese croissants where the ham and cheese is an independent filling trapped by its croissant exterior, Popham's version someone manages to meld the inner fillings with the pastry itself.

If you've been on the hunt for the perfect Bacon Roll and Ham and Cheese croissant in London, I believe your work here is done.

P.S: We also tried the following bakes: Poached quince with custard, a Pain au chocolat, and a Brownie croissant (stuffed with actual brownie pieces no less). The lamination on the pain au chocolat was divine, with clear layers that resembled a book, but they paled greatly in comparison with the above two bakes.

It's testament to baking prowess, or just good ol' elbow grease: the kitchen starts the lamination process at a godly hour of 2AM. They deserve the title of the perfect croissant.

More food reviews over at: @VichelinGuide...

An interesting place. If you wanna see the people gentrifying Hackney live in the flesh, then look no further. Come here on a Sunday afternoon and you’ll find a sea of white, upper middle class people with not a person of colour in sight (outside of those working there, of course). Touting tennis caps, sports gear, gilets, AMEX cards, posh accents, cute little dogs - oh yes this place has it all. And where else could such a place, a beacon of ‘regeneration’, be placed? Of course, nowhere else but right below council housing! In any case, I had the pleasure of visiting some sunny Sundays ago. My fellow gentrifiers were out in full force hoping to nab one of popham’s converted cinnamon buns but alas this was sold out by the mere hour of 12pm. Not to worry, an almond croissant and a cappuccino did the job! Despite my remarks earlier, I actually can’t fault the place. The coffee was quite good and the almond croissant really was worth the money. These guys are good at what they do, it’s just a shame this attracts such a particular crowd that doesn’t really reflect the area it’s in. Or maybe that’s just the reality of expensive cafes like this in general. If you want a seat, you probably need to come at 8am because it was ram packed from when I got there (12:00) till when I left (13:00). There are some benches in the nearby park for you to take it away and sit so don’t worry too much if you do come later and can’t find a seat. Overall I do recommend this place, but definitely not the one if you want somewhere to read/do work because it’s simply too crowded and lacks any kind of calm feel a smaller...

The Croissant That Taught Me About Expectation

The first time I tried the ham and cheese croissant at Pophams, I genuinely thought I had found the one—a croissant so perfect it stopped time. Flaky, rich, and filled with just the right amount of ham and cheese, it felt like a little moment of magic, the kind of food that reminds you why you chase flavor in the first place.

But over the past few weeks, something’s changed.

I’ve come back again and again, hopeful. But each time, the croissant arrives looking the same—golden, beautiful, with that incredible crispy cheese crust (a proper chicharrón de queso). And yet… there’s barely any ham. Just a small, lonely piece tucked at the end, like a memory of what it once was.

The croissant is still good—delicious even—but the balance is off. And it’s funny how that small shift can make you feel something deeper. Maybe it’s about expectations. About how easily we fall in love with a version of something, and keep returning hoping to find it again.

I keep coming back, not just for the croissant, but for that feeling I had the first time. Maybe that’s what great food does—it doesn’t just fill you up, it stirs something. And maybe that’s why even a tiny piece of missing ham can leave such...