AFTER my last week’s moan about Nelson Road, I thought I’d say something nice about Greenwich shops for a change. To adapt the title of that bestselling book – is it just me, or are some things not quite as s–t as they were?

Books, we’ve even got a shop selling them now. New ones. We’ve got an M&S. We’ve got a fishmonger, tucked away down Circus Street. We’ve got a decent independent wine merchant, in Trafalgar Road.

And over the last couple of years, Greenwich, a place where the pinnacle of cosmopolitan eating was once the red Peperami, seems to have got itself several rather nice-looking bakery/ delis.

Well, all right, they’re not all strictly delis, they’re deli-ish – but look, I’m calling them that so we can headline this piece “Duel Of The Delis.” Alliteration, right? We hacks love alliteration.

They might not all be delis, but there certainly could be a bit of a duel because over the last three years or so a comparatively small area, West Greenwich, has gone from no deli-type places at all to four. They keep opening more of the things. Earlier this week, I took the carrot cake challenge.

I started with the oldest of the new places, what was once the “George” cafe/deli in Nelson Road, now more cafe than deli and rebranded as the Cafe du Musee. It’s joined to two other “Musee” shops, including the original bar, and it’s part of Frank Dowling’s Inc empire, of which I’ve not always been the topmost fan.

As I was standing there, making some notes about the furnishings, Frank himself, who I’ve never actually met before, suddenly came through the door specially to shake my hand (this sort of thing doesn’t happen as often as I’d like, by the way.) Had he spotted me on CCTV? Is he having me followed? “Be nice, we’re trying,” he said, before leaving just as quickly as he’d come.

You know what, Frank, I will be nice. Your shop was just a smidgeon clinical, with its black slate floor and its chandeliers – though it does have a nice grandfather clock – but actually, your carrot cake was pretty damn good, moist, generously-sized, worth the £3.25, I thought. So no green inc from me about you this time.

Rhodes, Greenwich

Then it was round the corner to Rhodes, the rather stylish new bakers (est 2008) opposite the entrance to the naval college (don’t think it’s any relation to the celebrity chef Gary, which is probably just as well.) The window is stacked with shelves of cakes but the price tickets are strategically turned away from the street. If you saw them from the outside (£2.20 for a baguette) you might never cross the threshhold.

And that would be a mistake, because this is an attractive place, with friendly service, better than the Musee, some of it with a calm North American accent. They’re attentive, they approach you – although once I’d ordered and they’d put it at the till, they wandered off, leaving me a bit stuck when I wanted something else.

They didn’t have any carrot cake when I went in, so I got a sort of fruit Danish, which was good and light and had quite a decent collection of fruit in the middle Unfortunately the other thing I chose, the ham and cheese croissant, was duff: tasteless cheese, rubbery at the edges.

On the admirable Greenwich Phantom blog, Rhodes is accused of charging 70p for a scrape of butter – “which was actually margarine” – to put on an 80p scone. Didn’t check it myself, but if true, remarkably bad form, guys. Prices and consistency are the issues here.

Next stop the Nevada Street Deli, in what used to be the Spread Eagle second-hand bookshop. I miss those floors of old paperbacks, stretching away like Gormenghast, but if it had to go, this is a good replacement. “Poilane delivered every Saturday,” says a little blackboard in the window. I had a tasty sausage roll and anchovies on bread – they do light meals too – and I was well served, though gently ticked off for eating my Rhodes fruit tart thingy on the premises.

This is easily the nicest place to sit in of the four, though alas there are only two full-sized inside tables, plus a further three seats perched in the window. The reason I’d never been in before was I’d never seen a table free before.

Finally, the Buenos Aires, tucked away down non-touristy Royal Hill with, I think, the best food of the bunch. It’s Argentinian, you might guess, but not perhaps quite as Argentinian as you might hope. The Argie pastries are fab but the savouries are a bit more Med than Latin America. Lots of my neighbours love the squashy leather sofas, but I have bad memories of trying not to spill hazardous hot drinks while sinking into them.

In all of these places you can, if I’m honest, get that slight, rather SE10, sense that they’re good without being absolutely outstanding. The long-established Italian deli in East Greenwich – which was closing, but may now not be – remains the local standard to beat for quality and variety. But with the arrival, now, of four newish places doing similar things, the magic of competition may raise everyone’s game. In the tough times ahead, they all deserve to survive. Let’s hope they all do.