The first time I went to the Nordic Bakery I didn't care about cinnamon buns or prawn sandwiches or elderflower tea. I was meeting Stevie for the first time and was so excited and so cold and (so) late. Happily, so was she, and we spent a couple of hours chatting about nothing and keeping warm. I remember Stevie tried to get a sneaky picture of the girls in their aprons (and cos she loves a good pinnie) because they were just that cool. Seeing these pictures of chef Soli Zardosht in London brings it all back. This is how all aprons ought to look if they possibly can. Thick straps, low armholes, big pockets, and a slip-into-it pinafore quality. I'm a messy cook - aren't we all? - and I need an apron. I need an apron to keep a tea towel in, to protect my clothes, to wipe my hands on when they're sticky with the residue of peach juice or tomatoes or olive oil, to leave on when you have to dash down the road to buy more golden syrup, to let the straps slip comfortably off your shoulder. But I want an apron because they're just that cool.
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