Madrid - A slice to remember..

Some cities invite you to explore through grand landmarks and bustling avenues.

Madrid, however, has a way of drawing you in through the smaller details — the scent of fresh bread curling from the doorway of an old panadería, the glint of sunlight on patterned ceramic tiles, the echo of footsteps down narrow cobblestone streets.

For us, this visit was anchored by a quiet mission — to find the perfect slice of cheese.

However, it wasn’t written in any itinerary. It was simply understood — the kind of goal that turns wandering into discovery and the perfect way to discover a city with family.

The search began mid-morning, when the light is golden and the air still holds a trace of the night’s coolness.

First came the bustling stalls of Mercado de San Miguel, where cheese counters spilled over with wedges of Mahón, creamy Idiazábal, and rounds of fresh goat’s cheese rolled in herbs.

The air there was alive with voices — vendors calling out tastings and the steady hum of people deciding which flavours to carry home.

From there, we found a small corner shop selling local cheeses alongside jars of jam and stacks of fresh bread. It felt homely, like the kind of place locals visit every week.

And then, further along a quieter street, we found it — Fromaje.

A small shop with a simple doorway, the kind you could miss if you weren’t paying attention. Inside, the shelves were lined with cheeses of every shape and size.

The light inside was soft and warm, making the wooden shelves glow.

Wheels rested like treasures, each with its own character — some with thick, rustic rinds, others wrapped in cloth, a few so fresh they seemed almost too delicate to touch.

The air was cool and carried the smell of cream, earth, and something faintly sweet. It felt calm, unhurried, as if time inside the shop moved slower than out on the street.

The shopkeeper welcomed us with a smile and began offering tastes: Manchego, rich and nutty; Torta del Casar, so creamy it barely held it’s shape; and finally, Brie, smooth and mild, served with a small spoonful of fruit jam.

The sweetness of the jam didn’t just cut through the richness of the Brie — it seemed to draw it out, making every note clearer, softer, more complete.

It was a pairing so right that it felt less like trying something new and more like being reminded of something you’d always known.

The sweetness of the jam met the Brie so effortlessly it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

It was gentle, balanced — the kind of taste that made you slow down without even realising it.

In that quiet shop, surrounded by shelves of cheese and the faint hum of the street outside, it felt like the whole day had led to that single bite.

This pairing caught us by surprise. It was simple, yes, but it was also complete — a small harmony you didn’t know you were missing.

It was a gentle reminder that the most lasting memories are often the simplest ones.

In our family, food has always been an unspoken language — the way we show love, mark moments, and carry home pieces of the places we visit.

That morning in Madrid became one of those pieces, carried home not as a souvenir but as an idea: that a perfect flavour can live anywhere, if made with the same care.

This is how the Brie & Jam Croissant found it’s place on our in house café menu.

A small echo of that morning in Madrid, a way to pause, share, and savour something simple and delightfully special — recreated to be enjoyed here in house, whenever you need a moment worth remembering.

Explore the rest of our menu to find out more about our flavours, the ingredients that shape them, and the stories that brought them to life here.

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