passing clouds

In case anyone has the misfortune of living anywhere other than London (don't you miss getting soaked all the time?), I would like to draw your otherwise undivided attention to a little place east of me, very very east of me, in Dalston. I have only managed to drive through it a few times on the way to charming Stokey, where people just sit in cafes all year long and eat veganarian food (you never quite know if it is vegan or just plain ol' vegetarian but it always has the ethical stamp on it) and I have to say, it's not a joint that charmed the socks off me straight away. First time I went, I was hungover, making my emotional response to it a bit, well, over-responsive, and the second time, I was hungry, so avoided jumping into the first turkish pad I could lay my squirmingly hungry little eyes on. So, I've decided to give it more than just a passing fly-by wave and instead, will make the long and arduous journey over to the east for sunday lunch- a free sunday lunch- and because I'm not hipster enough to say  i've got friends who invited me over that way for free nosh ( just friends whom I would have to pay for the rep I would get in return) , I'm eating for free in a cafe. Yep, Dalston recycles everything, including it's food. Now, though that doesn't inspire you to act on your growling tummy, it does beg the question how? Passing Clouds, a sort of all-in-one music, cafe, funky house and general place to escape nasty flatmates, is shipping in food from markets as swish as Spitalfields and supermarkets as wasteful as M +S to act as ingredients for its greener- than- the -soup- they- are making customers. I'm in because I couldn't care less what it tastes like. My main objective in winter is to eat. Yours should be too.