We’ve never not finished a meal at this Farringdon caff and wondered if we should pack it all in and just become a part of the furniture. The green booths at Beppe’s Café are the kind that threaten to bring on a post-breakfast nap and the family working here are always on hand with a cheery word or a bit of gossip. Most mornings, a collection of solo diners, spreading butter over a spread of broadsheets, can be found next to gilet-wearing bros and power suits. The common point of interest is the fry-ups—comforting plates piled high with crispy-edged sausages, charred rashers of smoky bacon, and decadent slices of fried bread.