at cocorino mellow, rather sentimental sounding italian music mutes the voices of chatting people. a long broad counter displays food and a blackboard announces the menu. admittedly, it’s a bit bizarre to find granola and porridge on the brekkie menu of an italian place but i guess londoner’s need catering for. i am here for the focaccia and settle easily on the classic – mozzarella, tomato and basil (pesto) – the pesto tastes good. each of the ingredients shine and the garlic doesn’t over power. i have to abandon reading and eating together as the pesto oozes and luckily misses the book and lands on my bookmark. i find myself doggy bagging the other half as the size is very ample. on the way out i pop into the gelateria next door, a visit to which is in order with o.