Sometimes what you're looking for is right under your nose. Other times, it's in Spanish.
Yesterday I visited Notting Hill for lunch. We found this great little Spanish place which I'm not supposed to mention because it's a great secret. There were a few people there when we arrived; many locals enjoying the requisite 'yellow food' (eggs, sausages, chips, and toast). Not that I can't see why; from the looks of the cafe it seems just like any other: open store front, quiet unassuming kitchen, giant frying pan full of paella, black rice, and other exotic delights - why wouldn't you want a sausage?
I soon discovered however that this cafe produced excellent Spanish cuisine, if you could have guessed. I ordered the special, which turned out to be the biggest pork knuckle I had ever seen, and my friend ordered a hot chocolate. As soon as the hot chocolate came out I knew we were in for a treat. This thing was so thick that her teaspoon stood upright, producing a wave of excitement around the table, and inducing an empathy-diabetic coma. Then my pork knuckle arrived. Somebody once said 'Never eat anything bigger than your head'. I never was any good at doing what I was told. It was delicious, if not a little salty, and afterwards it was all I could do to stand up after the meal and pay for lunch.
After lunch we headed over to the Portabello Market at Notting Hill - basically a great street market with everything from expensive antiques (I saw an 800STG magnifying glass!) to churros.
If I had to pick, I'd say that Notting Hill is my favourite suburb so far in London. It's a very pretty part of town, with pretty buildings (a different pretty to the rest of London), pretty streets, and pretty people. I wouldn't recommend the market if you value your personal space (wallets get taken routinely there), but if you're a little careful and look a little 'P-eyed', then you'll usually get a little more room to move than most. I will admit to looking around for Hugh Grant, or that other British guy that was in the film, but all I could see were stall owners, gypsies, and rich folk looking to buy a periscope or luxury shoe horn.
In summary: Notting Hill (the suburb) good. Notting Hill (the movie) not actually real.