There are some places that you just don’t want to tell anyone about. The Buenos Aires Cafe was already a favourite weekend haunt of ours before Jack arrived. After his arrival it became one of those places that helped keep me sane during and after maternity leave.  It is an easy (but oh so virtuous) walk through Greenwich Park from our house.Picture an Argentinian version of the coffee house in Friends and you might be half way to understanding my deep attachment to the place.   An assortment of mismatched wooden tables and squashy old leather sofas lure you in to the compact cafe with the promise of a very good coffee over the newspapers.  The croissants and pastries beg to keep the coffee company.

Lunchtime food is simple but fantastic quality: the freshest bread, good parma ham, goats cheese, olive oil.  Did I mention the cakes?  Or the Argentinian empanadas?  All equally good.

The room is lined with shelves groaning with artisan products from Argentina and Italy (I highly recommend the Alfojares).  A curious mix of photos fill any remaining empty space on the walls, including one of the owners in a former life as Tango dancers.

There is a small basket of toys and books and a tiny toilet in the back of the cafe with barely room to change a baby (though they have helpfully provided a changing mat).   Normally that would have been enough for me to strike it off my list of baby-friendly places.  Not in this case.  What sets it apart is the combination of great cafe food and a completely tolerant attitude to babies and children.  They never rush you, even though the place is small and no doubt a swifter turnaround would be good for business.

I have never failed to leave the Buenos Aires Cafe feeling better than when I arrived.  I curse if I arrive to find the place full.  So now you know.  But could we just keep it our little secret?

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