The Diner

There's a fanboy's attention to detail in the decor here (white piping on the red leather booths, buffalo horns protruding from feature brickwork, 'Love in an Elevator' blaring from the speakers), so the genuine warmth of the welcome at Camden's Diner stands out as pleasingly inauthentic.

The menu celebrates the good, bad and ugly of cuisine Americana, from eggs benedict to bacon chilli cheese dogs and strawberry peanut butter milkshakes.

Results are variable, though the yankee-doodle-dandy breakfasts (served all day) are a Saturday ritual for local families, as well as teens and tourists preparing to hit the market.

Our lumberjack-themed plate of fluffy pancakes with crisp bacon, maple syrup and eggs cooked to a lacy brown finish on the hotplate was highly pleasurable and big enough to set us up for a day's tree-felling.

The sunny staff are well drilled; filter coffee refills aren't just promised but offered, and who are we to question the wisdom of pushing a blueberry, amaretto and vanilla hard shake at 11.30am?

This is Camden, after all. Something's certainly working well: the Diner's five branches now stretch from Kensal Rise to Shoreditch.