Gertsamtkunstwerk

Dinner at the Lido

Last month was the first time we'd ventured to the Brockwell Lido café for dinner. It was interesting to see how they transformed the place from a spot for coffee, snack or casual lunch to somewhere to eat an intimate dinner.

Most obvious change was to décor: bare wooden tables transformed by table linen. Candles and dimmed overhead lighting. The play area removed. And a different menu.

We went on the third Saturday of April. It already felt like it had rained for ever, and yet it seems so long ago. Because of the forecast rain, we did the two bus trick, change at Windrush Square. We didn't want to risk a drenching walking across the park - who would - but, actually it didn't rain. Part of me was a bit sad about that, because I had already planned to blog or tweet "Dinner looking out as the rain pours into the pool. Just like being on holiday".

The dinner menu is fancier than at lunch time. They change it every month to reflect the seasons, although some items appear to be perennial, and not every single item seems to change every month.

I very nearly ordered Smoked salmon with pickled beetroot and rye bread as a starter but, in the nick of time, realised this wasn't the wisest starter for my preferred main. I always choose my main first. The starter must fit round that. Instead, I had smoked haddock fishcake, creamed spinach, sorrel and a poached egg. Perfect dish in itself. I could happily live on poached eggs, except that making them myself is so hit and miss. always great to order one when out, and this did not disappoint. I'm also a big fishcake fan, having loved them when I was a kid. They seem to have gone out of fashion for a long time, so it's great to see them back on menus.

For my main I had Sea Trout with crushed Jersey Royal potatoes, White Wine herb sauce and Spinach. Which of course means that I had spinach for both courses. A fate I could have avoided by having both salmon and trout. I see in May's menu, one could have either a pea starter or an asparagus starter, and then an asparagus and pea risotto. Not so much a criticism as an observation. It doesn't bother me in practice as it does in theory!

I couldn't fault the taste or presentation of either dish. I think they have a a splendid combination of elegantly presented fresh food that nevertheless veers to the accessible, rustic or homely - in a good way. It's not pretentious or poncey, and the prices are modest. The prices for alcohol are less so, but I have absolutely no problem with places that hike up the booze prices to keep the food reasonable.

I finished with Almond and pistachio tart with orange and cardamon. This was perfectly fine, with no cause for complaint. But, having declared in February: 

I feel my future lies in roaming round Brixton eating almond cake

this almond cake felt like a poor relation to the ones I had tasted in Brazas or Boqueria. But it didn't detract from the evening, and was at most a minor quibble. I no longer recall the eminently quaffable wine I enjoyed with the first two dishes, but I do recall I started with a Manzanilla, and enjoyed a Pedro Ximénez, as recommended. Service was fine, and ambience was pleasant and relaxed, and far more intimate than one would ever imagine from what is essentially a cafeteria attached to a 1930s municipal swimming pool.

It is entirely possible we ill return to sample May's menu. If not, flaming June!

Amaretto amaretti cheesecake

I bought the book impulsively. When one of your favourite authors writes a book on baking, you buy it, don't you? And, of course, having bought it, you have to use it, don't you.

To summarise, Marion has suffered from depression for years and has tried all sorts of different treatments. But, almost by accident, she discovered that obsessive baking somehow has worked.

Now, I like the book. It has some lovely ideas in it and some gorgeous photos, so it seems almost churlish to be critical. But I do have a major question. Apart from the recipes she describes as having been handed to her by her in-laws, what is the source of the other recipes. Sure, once you've grasped some basics, it's easy enough to experiment. It's easy enough, even when baking, to mix and combine elements of several different similar recipes, and, in effect create something new. But I have read nothing that suggests she experimented. So, I'd rather appreciate a credit to the source of the recipe.

She recommends using muffin tins with an 8 cm diameter. Mine are only 7 cm - at the top. less at the bottom. In retrospect I should have followed mu instincts and made more smaller cakes rather than trying to squeeze all these ingredients into six cavities just because it was convenient.

Other than that, it's very smple to make, but you do have to make it the day before.

Take some amaretti biscuits and bash them into submission, mix them with melted butter, and squash them into the muffin tins. Bake them blind, them cool and then refrigerate for an hour.

In one bowl mix cheese, egg yolks and sugar. In another, beat egg whites.

 

When the egg whites are in stiff peaks fold them into the cheese mixture

At this point, you must remember that you should have added the amaretto to the cheese mixture even before you'd added the egg whites.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No worry, though. Just dollop the resulting mix into the biscuit base. At this point I realised that my earlier instinct was right. Too few muffin tins (or sufficient too small muffin tins). I was just piling the mixture into greater and greater piles, a precarious balancing act entirely dependent on it being fairly stiff as a result as the beaten egg whites.

Bake them in the oven for 40 minutes, then switch off the oven and leave the cheesecakes in there for two hours while the oven cools down. And refrigerate them overnight.

 

 

 

The finished article shouldn't overflow the sides like this
Althugh in practical terms, this really isn't a problem . You just get mushroom-shaped cheesecakes rather than ones suitable for food porn.

And if you want them to look neat, just trim round the edge, like so. But remember to co-ordinate the camera settings and ambient light, like I didn't!

Very very nice. I shall make them again.

Meanwhile, my trusted assistant shows how theu should look!

Bubba's Restaurant, Tulse Hill

We went here in mid-April, a month after it opened. I don't go to first nights, for restaurants or for operas. The critics cast their judgements and this becomes the accepted wisdom. I don't fully trust professional critics, anyway. I read a review of this restaurant which suggested that the customers were 'uncomfortable' with the 'formal setting'. A restaurant that is owned and managed by Black people, with a Caribbean-influenced cuisine, and, going by both their own photos and what I noticed when we visited, quite a lot of Black customers.The professional critic thinks Black people are uncomfortable in formal surroundings. Hmm.

Location. Challenging for professional food critics. With no parking. It's converted out of part of Tulse Hill Station, even having a ticket machine outside. But once inside, I didn't hear any trains and forgot I was near a station. Just along the South Circular from us, but too far (for me) to walk. So we bussed it, because loads of buses pass nearby.

Bloggers who had been before us made a big deal of the blue light. A blue light that makes photos of the food look either washed out or strangely, well, blue. I would say my biggest criticism is the blue light. It's not just about photography; it tinges companion and food (less obviously) with a slight but disorienting blue rinse. If I had one piece of advice, I'd say, get rid of the blue light.

Otherwise, I liked the decor. Clean and crisp and clear. It even smelled of new-ness. Lights that were optical illusions and looked like they were small alcoves with a distant vanishing point. I've been to restaurants where the decor is tasteful, modern and crisp - and bland and impersonal. Take away the blue light and Bubba's would verge on this. I prefer some details or touches that give it individuality and personality. There again, I don't like places where the decor becomes the dominant statement. It's a fine balance to achieve.

I'm not familiar with Caribbean food despite my decades living in South London. Jimmy, on the other hand, claims to be an expert. And this is where I made a mistake. He ate jerk pork and curried goat. Classic dishes with a 'fine dining' twist. Being that I don't eat meat, I didn't have those, but I should have stayed close to what I am familiar with.

We started with cocktails. I had a Gin Smash, which was luscious. My starter was Black sesame, kidney bean camembert fondants with plaintain smalls and glazed boad beans, elegantly presented and interesting to taste. I really liked the taste, but bizarrely, I'm not sure I'd necessarily have it again. A lot of complex flavours battling with each other, satisfying but perhaps rather heavy-going for a starter. Jimmy declared his jerk pork belly with apple and nut crunch and apple and cinnamon puree a great success.

Service was of a high standard, perhaps veering towards the deferentially subservient. The front-of-house manager and the waiter both introduced themselves, but didn't then give their life stories or attempt to engage in unrelated chit-chat. Attentive and prompt, without hovering and intruding. We'd booked for 8pm but arrived closer to 7.30pm, when there was only one other party. By 8.30, the place was full, with a good lively buzz. I've read reviews praising the RnB soundtrack, but I can't say I noticed, which is good, because RnB is one of those genres where I can get very quickly annoyed at the mediocre formulaic offerings.

I made a mistake with my main course. I saw the word 'crab' and pounced, not noticing or processing the words 'soft-shell'. And I have to be honest, I didn't like it. I think that was me, not a criticism of the restaurant. I liked everything else on the plate but really struggled to eat the crab. I just felt that it was a lot of salt water. So many other things on the menu I could have chosen. But I loved the plaintain chive mash and rustic tomato sauce. I ordered a Singapore Sling, but I don't think the drink that turned up actually was. In a fog, I'd recognised the phrase 'Singapore Sling' as something I like but not being able to remember what it was or what I liked about it. (And, no, I'm not stupid. the fog is a side-effect of fibromyalgia; not only does it occur, but it also diminishes one's confidence so you doubt you're remembering properly).

Jimmy was very pleased with his Authentic Caribbean curried goat in a roast petal tuille basket served with avocado puree and plantain rings. The goat was tender and well-flavoured. He didn't eat the filo basket, but, looking around, nor did other people. It makes for attractive serving, but I'm sure isn't really intended to be eaten.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jimmy finished with a selection of exotic ice creams. Yet again. He loves ice cream, almost invariably picks ice cream as his dessert and, more often than not, the ice cream isn't what he expects, and he's disappointed. I'm sure everybody else who likes ice cream would love these, but he only cares for ice creams made from organic unicorn tears and the noble perspiration of passionate artisans. This wasn't!

 

 

 

 

I had carrot cake with carrot and rum sorbet and spiced puree. The carrot cake was beautiful, dense yet light. Too many carrot cakes are stodgy; this was melt-in-the-mouth but substantial. I also enjoyed the trimmings. But the sorbet wasn't for me.

So, I am definitely going back to Bubba's and would urge other people to go, too. Remember, right next to Tulse Hill station, and close to a plethora of buses. And a cab office just round the corner. Next time I go, I shall opt for dishes that are closer to my comfort zone.

I think I concur with several other bloggers that there are a few hesitations about the place, but I feel that these are inevitable when an establishment is clearly ambitious and wants to be innovative. If you want to avoid this go to a chain restaurant or somewhere that has been cooking the same old same old for twenty years. 

Other blogposts:

Noshable

The Picky Glutton - special thanks for photographing the menu

How to Cook in High Heels

Hollow Legs

The restaurant has its website but as I write it's not really up and running. They are active on Facebook

Lunch at the Manor

I wrote at leangth about the Manor Arms Streatham in October, so I won't repeat myself. suffice to say we have been back several times. Most recently for a Sunday lunch on one of those hot days in March that seem so long ago.

I had Jersualem Artichoke soup

followed by John Dory with shrimps and mussels

Jimmy had beef and Yorkshire (he was a bit disappointed that it was slow-boiled beef rather than roast)

I finished with Burnt Cream

Very nice all round.

Ravioli and crème brulée

A new toy for my birthday, a pasta maker. (Not my photo, I got it off t'internet). I used it once but was very dissatisfied with the results. I didn't cry, though, just seeing it as a learning or practice session. And I threw away the resulting tagliatelle.

 

In making pasta, the most important thing is to get the dough right. I've done a bit research, and the consensus seems to be, don't handle it any more than necessary. That is, don't knead it particularly, because the subsequently rolling will give it a good old battering and develop gluten sufficiently.

 

 

 

 

 Very easy in practice. Just get some eggs and flour, and whizz them in the food processor, until the  dough looks distinctly unappetising, then bring it together with your hands, and leave it in the fridge for at least half an hour, or until you're ready.

 

 

 

 

 

Next, decide where you're going to eat out for a meal. This time, we decided we wanted Indian, and we thought we'd be a bit adventurous. We headed to Tooting, home of a lot of Indian restaurants, and chose a Keralan, the Rhada Krishna Bavan. We were lucky to get in there, because it was just about full by the time we received our starters - partly because there was a party of 14 celebrating a birthday.

They seemed mainly to be medical-type staff, unsurprising given its proximity to St George's. 

I liked the place, although I wouldn't massively rave about it, and I would certainly go back if I lived - or worked - nearer. Although there's a door-to-door bus service, it is, nevertheless, a long trawl along Streatham High Road and the arse-end of Furzedown.

Usual poppadom accompaniments but slightly different from my usual

My starter was, if I remember correctly, a Vada. I think I went for the lentil option. It was drier than I expected but pleasant enough and went will the accompanying sauce.

I thought I had ordered a fish curry, but when it came it was prawn curry. That didn't bother me in the slightest, indeed it was really delicious. The picture I took of the entire dish didn't turn out well. This picture illustrates one of my pet hates with a lot of long-established English restaurants - and in that I specifically include Indian. Sad salad.

What is sad salad all about? This really is a case in point. Juicy king prawns, a rich aromatic sauce. Green peppers, crispy and succulent. The right amount of onion. and to set it off, tired lettuce and a slice of lemon. I had no intention of eating either, and they had no aesthetic appeal. Just made the dish look amateurish. Can I make a plea? Please stop serving sad salad!

The next step is to go home and go to bed.

Next morning: 

Mix egg yolks and caster sugar

Heat cream and vanilla essence on the hob

Mix the two mixtures together and pour into ramekins

Gather the ramekins together and put them into a bain marie. When we made egg custard at school, two out of the 16 girls in my cookery group were called Ann(e) Marie (it was that sort of school). Whenever I put custard dishes in a roasting tin of water, I think of them. Weird, because I wasn't close to either and never kept in touch after we left school.

Leave the custards to cool

Then, because it's not even mid-March and it's hot and sunny, leave the house and head out to the Common for a walk.

Pass by the house you've often coveted and yet never photographed.

Decide, after all, not to go to the Common, but, instead. head down to Balham. Why, I don't know? Pleasant enough town, the Spiritual Centre of Nappy Valley.

Wander around Balham and take photos of its Parish Church

And go home.

Once home, the excitement begins!It helps if your trusty assistant has already peeled, sliced, boiled and mashed a sweet potato. All I had to do was crumble some goat's cheese, and mix the two together.

As a novice, I did find rolling and cutting the pasta to be tricky, especially as I was paranoid about the dough drying out. But, conversely, it was easier than I feared.

And, then, simply pop them in the pan for about 5 minutes

However, in this house, food is made for eating. Photographing it comes a very poor second. So no further photos of the pasta, as we wanted to eat it piping hot!

Finally, sprinkle sugar on the crème brulée

Ideally, you should also photograph the finished product, post-blow torching, but there was an epic fail with the blowtorch. It had no adverse effect on the finished product, but the only way to extinguish the flame is to let it burn until the fuel runs out!

Upstairs, Acre Lane

If it wasn't for the hyperlocal social media internet, I would never have known that Upstairs exists. It has been there about five years, and is not very far from home. An interesting restaurant, quite different from anywhere I've been to before.

It's not easy to find, the entrance being a door on a side road with a very small sign visible only when you are actually at the door. Buzz the entry-phone and climb several flights of stairs to the bar. We made a mistake in not going to the bar; I think you're supposed to sip cocktails and peruse the menu until called to the dining room. Part of an attempt to create a more intimate setting than one usually finds in a restaurant.

The dining room is several floors up, and a window seat gives a good view of Acre Lane, and, until the sun sets, the far vista of London. Cocktails and an amuse bouche were followed by our selection from a small menu - which changes every two weeks. I'm becoming more a fan of the tiny menu. Even though my non-eating of meat limits me, I feel more satisfied making a choice from just one fish and one veggie dish than worrying whether I've made the 'right' choice out of several, or wishing I could have this piece of fish with that accompaniment. Also, a smaller menu gives a higher guarantee of the food being cooked fresh, rather than taken from vast reserves in a freezer and pinged in the microwave.

I started with a Warm Jerusalem Artichoke Salad. I doubt I would have chosen this from a vast array of starters, simply because I'm unfamiliar with Jerusalem Artichoke, warm or otherwise.

It turned out nothing to be frightened of! The waiter explained the various ingredients, but this was some time ago, I didn't take notes, and I had a fair amount to drink - hence my current frustration. But note the dainty arrangement of ceps, and an emulsion, which, IIRC, was made from a root vegetable. The Jerusalem artichoke dominated, but the dish tasted as a coherent whole, not a main ingredient indifferently supported by others. Jimmy had Confit Pork Belly & Kumquats and expressed his satisfaction.

  For my main course I went for Lemon sole, Alexanders, and Jersey Royals, a daringly early exposition of Jersey Royals, which has clearly become a 'must-eat' of this season. Is this despite or because of their drought-caused rarity value. Nice to see something so traditional and seemingly humdrum as a potato acquiring almost celebrity status. 

I was not previously familiar with Alexanders, which is, apparently, also known as 'Horse Parsley' and has a flavour between parsley and celery. "It is common among the sites of medieval monastery gardens".  I was not overly thrilled at the prospect of a lump of fish, some boiled potatoes and an indeterminate greed veg, so was relieved and pleased when presented with a thoughtful dish. Again, the flavours all complemented each other. Most importantly, each element was cooked perfectly, allowing the flavours to linger tantalising in my mouth. Jimmy had Blackleg chicken & walnut gnocchi, with a veritable cabaret of additional adorning ingredients, each patiently explained by the engaging waiter.

We were undecided about pudding, changing our minds several time. Against my better judgement, I was talked into having the Blood orange & gingerbread, which turned out to be a delicious combination of all sorts of seemingly random ingredients. They included gingerbread (obviously), fresh and frosted blood orange, quenelles of mousse and sorbet in subtle flavours. There is another ingredient, visible at the front on the far left, that added some extra crunch; again, I can't remember what it was. The surprise ingredient was beetroot jelly. Slightly anxious, not being a big beetroot fan, but this Really Worked. A gently sweet taste and a smooth jelly substance, it didn't really taste like my bad experiences of beetroot. Perhaps close to a blackcurrant jelly but without any tartness. And, of course, adding an extra dimension of colour.

Jimmy went for Mint mousse, chocolate spaetzle & raspberries. Overall, he enjoyed it, including the additional unlisted ingredients, but the spaetzle just didn't work for him. The internet suggests that 'spaetzle' are German dumplings, typically an element of savoury dishes working similarly to pasta. Chocolate versions seem to be one US cook's idea, and, according to Jimmy, not that good an idea. But of all the ingredients in six dishes, this was the only one that didn't work.

We came away with mixed feelings. Very good service and an intimate atmosphere. Good attention to detail. I really liked everything I ate, and found the presentation fun and appetising. Jimmy enjoyed just about everything, appreciating the fresh ingredients and the attention to detail in the cooking. But, I think, ultimately he was disappointed. The dishes were too delicate, too 'poncey', and too much about presenting a variety of different ingredients. He didn't  feel as full as he felt he should have done after three courses. But he's a bit capricious. He referenced another restaurant previously visited as being 'hearty and wholesome' yet just a few days ago he stated he wouldn't go back there 'because it's nothing special'.

We also enjoyed the cocktails, which were different from the usual run-of-the-mill predictable names. He had several of an Irish whiskey based one, with 'Celtic' in the name, and I had a couple of gin-based London ones, which I would definitely have again.

We will definitely return to Upstairs. With an ever-changing menu, I'd happily go every month, if not more frequently, and I'm sure Jimmy will entertain another visit some time this year. Not least because it's so close!

Smoked fish and cider pie

I made this in honour of National Pie Week in early March. I have been told by a Self-Appointed Pie Expert that dishes can only qualify to be pies if they have pastry on the bottom and sides as well as the top. Wikipedia suggests that what I made was a Cobbler, which I find a bit odd, because a cobbler has something more resembling scone than pastry to top it. And, of course, when you say fish pie people tend to assume you're doing a mashed potato topping. It's enough to make a simple blogger sigh.

I sent my manservant out to Brixton market to procure the goods, the fish and seafood ingredients. And I set to spend a great deal of time in 'prep'.

Actually, a very simple dish to cook, especially if you use shop-bought puff pastry. Life being way too short to actually home-make puff pastry.

I soon got squeamish as I peeled the raw prawns. Then I didn't even bother taking a photo of the haddock fillets, smoked or fresh, I was that hard/cynical.

 

But I thought all the effort I put into chopping the parsley and spring onion merited a photo. Even though I did wonder whether I'd chopped too much parsley and it would taste only of that and of nothing else.

The next stage was to make a Béchamel Sauce, starting with a Roux. Thankfully, the recipe didn't phrase it that way, because if it had, I would have panicked, remembering my old O-Level Home Economics teacher (yeah, that's what it was called back then, because 'Cookery' was far too trivial to teach at a Grammar School. Fools.). She impressed upon us how difficult it was to make the classic French sauces, pessimistically assuring us that they were bound to be lumpy. Perhaps thinking lumpy schoolgirls were not worthy to approach the Holy Grail of French classic sauces, which are taken way too seriously for what they are.

So, melt some butter and stir in some flour

Then stir in some cream and some cider, add the fish and the greens, and le voilà

Bung it all in a cooking utensil - in this case a small silicon loaf-tin, for the freezer

Stick some pastry on it, cook it in the oven, and take it out to see your cooking utensil transformed (No, not really. Obviously, I didn't cook the ones that were going in the freezer.)

And, hey, a picture of a pie, which is a pretty rubbish thing to photograph, what with one pastry-covered pie looking a lot like another pastry-covered pie.

And you have to take my word that they taste very very nice. One to make again, for certain.

Thanks to Delicious for the recipe

Exhibition Rooms SE19

We first went to The Exhibition Rooms on Westow Hill soon after it opened. We don't go as often as we might, because it's awkward to get to, but, consistently, it delivers well cooked and well-presented food, with an emphasis on seasonal and English. It seemed like a breath of fresh air when it arrived, but it does seem a bit dated now, maybe four years after opening. 

I think they need to re-think their website. Jimmy is always more enthusiastic about visiting than I am. I am never clear whether they have the current menu on the site and there are usually errors and broken links. For example, as I write, they are currently listing their desserts as Buttered new potatoes, Mixed leaf & herb salad etc; they have a few admittedly pleasant photos of their décor but are surprisingly coy about their food. I suppose they're busy enough so don't need to worry about their website, but it looks tired and lacking in attention to detail.

In actual fact, when I do go there, I am pleasantly surprised by the quality of the food. It's not perfect; for example, on this visit, Jimmy got a roast and the accompanying vegetables weren't worth the effort, and there have been a couple of other minor things of that nature. There appears to be a general criticism of the lack of vegetarian choice - I eat fish but not meat - and often, I feel I could happily eat three or four starters and choose a main by process of elimination.

On this occasion, I started with Caramelised scallops, having being assured that the crisp pancetta was not an integral part of the dish and could easily be omitted. This was served with pea and mint puree,  and hazlenut butter. Very nicely cooked, juicy and succulent. I notice on the photo, and the same goes for the pudding that there was an inelegance in executing what was supposed to be elegant presentation. However, I didn't even notice when it was presented to me, and this probably shows that the camera captures in a sixth of a second what the eye edits out

My main course was Tranche of Halibut in a warm salad of new potatoes & marjoram, confit lemon and salsa verde and fennel seeds. Again, I couldn't fault it, although, conversely, I have to take their word that it was lemon and salsa verde and fennel seeds. The portions are hearty, and generally well-presented. Jimmy used to complain about the portions being too small, but he seems to have changed his tune. I think he's realised that they're well balanced; I think he's also been to more poncey restaurants where the portion size leaves much to be desired.

 

 

My dessert was rum and raisin cheesecake, which actually tasted better than it looked. When I was eating, I didn't even notice the heavy handedness with the toffee sauce - even though my hand clearly shook when I took this snap! The cheesy bit might look a bit artificial, I can assure you it isn't.

Overall, I would give high marks to the Exhibition Rooms. I love the light and airy decor, and I think they make the best use of their space: plenty of tables, but I've never felt that the people at the next table are too close. Unfortunately, on this occasion there was a multi-generational family where pudding was accompanied by running round and under their table, but that seems to be de rigeur almost wherever you go for Sunday lunch, so I can't blame the restaurant. 

I will undoubtedly go back on more occasions, but they need to be aware that there are an awful lot of very good eating places that have emerged in the southern half of Lambeth, and there is no longer the need to go to Crystal Palace to eat. They also need to ensure they keep an eye on trends, because I suspect that they already appear way behind to expert foodies.

Brixton Village Market & Casa Sibilla

Brixton Village is nothing short of a phenomenon. Housed in the market hall previously known as Granville Arcade, and with some overflow in spirit if not in strict technical fact into Market Row. For years, the home of stalls you'd expect to find in any market. A useful if now somewhat dated article from the Evening Standard How Brixton's arcade got a new lease of life explains the background.

For a long time, there was very much a feeling that there's hardly anywhere worth eating in Brixton. I feel the renaissance of the market has had a knock-on effect more widely. I also feel that Twitter, Facebook, and sites such as Qype also help. I know you're supposed to find restaurants by word of mouth, but I've had too many people tell me somewhere's 'amazing', but their tastes extend no further than freezer-to-microwave-to-plate.

One Saturday in February, we made our way to the village. We had already decided on where we wanted to eat, although we also knew that if it were full, there were other options. We had been to Casa Sibilla before, and were pleased that a table for two, inside, came available just as we arrived. It is possible to sit 'outside' - actually under cover of the market, and most of the restaurants provide blankets, but at that time of year, inside is better.

 

I am amazed at how Casa Sibilla and other restaurants (I was similarly struck at Etta's Seafood Kitchen) do it - create a range of gorgeous food in kitchens that are smaller than mine at home. As far as I can see, there was only one person cooking and two serving, hence my biggest 'criticism', we did have to wait a while. I don't mind waiting for a main, but I did start to feel slightly impatient when I felt I'd been waiting an age for our bread selection, wine and tap water. I wouldn't wish to labour the point, though. The bread selection was a nice selection of sourdough, grissini and plain but delicious rustic white.

I opted for the spinach & ricotta tortellini, whilst Jimmy went for roast chicken with veg and roast potatoes. He was perfectly satisfied with his, and he's a hard man to please when it comes to roast potatoes!

I would have thought that there's very little one can say about spinach & ricotta tortellini. A staple of supermarket ready meal shelves, it is what it is. But this a tortellini which highlighted how poor the supermarkets are. Smooth and delicate pasta, filled with a subtle combination of flavours which remained in the mouth to savour after the substance had been swallowed. Simple traditional food, prepared and cooked to perfection. But photographed out of focus...!

Although the pudding selection was tempting, we decided to move on, and savour Laboratorio Artigianale del Buon Gelato, or Lab G, which is what it says it is. I loved my white chocolate and salt caramel combination; Jimmy, a connoisseur of good ice cream, highly rated his chocolate and pistachio scoops. 

Another highlight of the market is Dagon's fish stall, which supplies many of the restaurants not just in the market but in the wider area. They've been there 25 years, so are not part of the new hip Brixton Village sensation. We bought some very nice monkfish, which I had for my Sunday dinner while Jimmy and our guests had roast beef.

 

 

Brixton Village is a remarkable place, even if there are compromises - Metro

 

 

The Lido Cafe & Brockwell Park

One mild if cloudy Autumn day we decided to take a walk across Brockwell Park.

I sometimes describe Brockwell Park as my local park, but it really isn't. Both Tooting Common and Agnes Riley Gardens are nearer, as is Rush Common, which I have to cross to get to Brockwell Park. Streatham Common and Clapham Common can be reached directly by bus. Brockwell Park requires two buses, or, of course, can be reached on foot via some rather boring and steeply undulating residential roads. So, over the years I've tended to ignore its existence too much.

Considering it is a formally laid out and maintained park, Brockwell is full of surprises. Wide open spaces, some of the best views in London. Managed wilderness and areas devoted to specific activities. 

It is currently undergoing a programme of refurbishment, a process that is bitter-sweet to watch, knowing that the money being spent is probably among the last vestiges of the previous Labour government. I wonder how long it will take for our public parks to regress to the derelict, threatening no-go danger areas I remember from my teens and young adulthood.

The ponds are being dredged, re-lined and re-planted. I believe work is being done on drainage. A refurbished adventure playground is due to open in Spring 2012. And, over winter, the secret walled garden has been closed. The model railway isn't running, certainly not on weekdays. The tennis courts are empty, the BMX track barely used. Presumably there is relatively little to do in the Community Greenhouses

A new play area, using water and sand, has been developed, although the water is off during the winter months. We realised after we had walked round that, strictly speaking, as adults unaccompanied by children, we shouldn't have even been in there. Hopefully, as there was only one mother and child there, and we kept our distance, our mistake can be overlooked.

Each time we visit Brockwell Park, we try to take a different route. I often lose my bearings, never quite grasping its vastness and the different communities that abut it. And being high up, and vast, one can see for miles.

Previously, we always used to go into the café in Brockwell Hall, but were becoming increasingly dissatisfied. Basically, we found their coffee undrinkable, which makes one reluctant to try anything else.

It was purely by chance we heard about the Lido Café. We had both been to previous incarnations, but once you absorb the message that it's closed, you just forget it ever existed. But we decided to try it. "I'll have a coffee and some carrot cake," I decided, looking at the tempting display of cakes on the counter. One of the staff suggested we sit down, she'd bring us our coffee, and why don't we look at the menu. One French onion soup later, I was able to exclaim 'No wonder people rate this place so highly!'. I didn't take my proper camera out of my bag but was very pleased at how this phone picture turned out

Fast forward to February. Jimmy was due to have a minor hospital procedure on a Monday, and I decided to take the Tuesday off work just in case he needed looking after. It turned out he didn't even have a general anaesthetic, so he was more or less fine the next day. The next day was Valentine's Day, and neither of us wanted to go out for a Valentine's dinner. Nothing says 'Unromantic' quite like being spontaneous to order from the multinational conglomerates, or even spending an evening among the slight desperation of couples who think a Valentine's Special dinner is the only way to show they care. Yes, I know most decent restaurants do a Valentine's special, unfortunate for the numerous friends and acquaintances who celebrate a birthday that day or work away from home. It's business...

So, instead we booked ourselves a lunch at the Lido Café. We chose to walk there, along the uninteresting and hilly residential streets,

We took a different route around the park, and saw different sights.

The upper most duck pond being refurbished

Pond still frozen

The remnants of the previous week's snowmen: although it wasn't warm on our walk, the snow and the bitter cold of early February seemed distant memories

 

A random snapshot of the trees on the pathway next to Brockwell Park Gardens (a residential road)

Odd traffic signals at Norwood Road

 Mocking the stone-cladding

 I like this view but was too impatient to wait until a train passed. Stupid of me, because the grace and elegance of a train skimming across the sklyline is a sight to behold

 And finally into the Lido Café to fulfill our lunchtime reservation

 Mackerel bap with tartare sauce, crushed peas, and triple cooked chips; & Luscombe organic (medium dry) Devon cider. A simple cheerful meal, tasty and cooked to perfection, with some nice little presentational tricks. Incidentally, the novelty tomato, so often a disguise for cheap and nasty ketchup thankfully contained good quality stuff, Heinz or equivalent.

 And pudding was ginger chocolate pot with orange sorbet. Again, a simple dish most of us could probably make at home, if we could bothered, and presented in an attractive way that complements the tastes.

 Arguably, it's a misnomer to describe the Lido as a café. It's in a different league, and a different priceband, than the other café in Brockwell Park, and in some other neighbouring parks. But you can go for a coffee or soft drink, as well as a three course meal with choice wines and beers. I've never been when the pool's been open, and I've not been in the evening to this incarnation. I guess I'll just have to go back (and have been since I started writing this blogpost!)

These and other photos are in my Brockwell Park album

Brazas, Tulse Hill

I'd read positively of Brazas, and decided that it was worth trying. It's sort of quite close to where I live, but I just never go up Tulse Hill, never have any reason to. Once  upon a time, it used to be the Two Woodcocks, which I've never been in. I like the way that the interior is recognisable as having been a pub, and yet modernised. Accusations of gentrification, of course, because this is Brixton, and Brixtonians are never happier than moaning about Gentrification, which results from Yuppie Flats.

It's a good, local restaurant, and one we intend to go to again, and fairly soon. It was probably not wise going here just a week after going to Trinity. They're aiming at different markets. We went to Trinity for my birthday; we went to Brazas for a pleasant Saturday night out. We paid three times as much at Trinity.

One thing that attracted me on the website was a clear distinction between meat, fish and veggie dishes. It's like they take veggie seriously, not just tack something on grudgingly because they feel they have to. They also had a Specials board, offering a 2 mains for £15 deal

I started with Wild Mushroom Strogonoff in puff pastry sheets; Jimmy had Chargrilled Chorizo w black honey syrup & toasted bread. I'm sorry I didn't photograph that, because it was very eye-catching, even to me, although I wouldn't have eaten it! And their website Gallery is not good. They'd be better off without one - it makes it look like a cold unwelcoming place, which it isn't, and there are no photos of the food.

There was no sophistication in how the stroganoff was presented, but it was very tasty. The puff pastry sheets were noteworthy - a nice crumbly texture - and the Stroganoff was comforting. The right consistency, creamy but not greasy.

 

For mains, I had Chargrilled Whole Filleted Mackerel, crushed potato & fennel w gremolata. I Googled gremolata on my phone, having never previously encountered it. The presentation was rustic, unfussy, good home cooking. The photos don't really do it justice, partly because I didn't use the flash, and partly because their presentation doesn't do the food's flavour, preparation and cooking any favours. It's a moot point, I guess, because too much focus on plating turns it into poncey food, which is less comforting. Jimmy had the chargrilled piri piri chcicken and new potatoes, which he really liked, although he could have done without the sad salad - undressed green bits and only four halves of cherry tomato worth rescuing.

I finished with Blueberry, Raspberry and Amaretto Cake w vanilla ice cream, which again didn't really look all that, but tasted  delicious as it melted softly on my tongue. I also had some booze, so I tweeted 

Like the Flying Dutchman is doomed to sail the oceans forever, I feel my future lies in roaming round Brixton eating almond cake

 

I guess at the time I thought it was poetic!

So, to conclude, a good quality local restaurant that I couldn't really fault. Friendly staff, relaxing atmosphere, well-made lovely tasting food. Good value for money. 

Eggs en cocotte

I kept going into the local independent Department store, and seeing the dinkiest cutest ramekins styled to look like mini-casseroles exactly matching the range of saucepans I already own. I knew there was very little practical reason to get them, but I just adored the cute dinkiness of them. Eventually, I could resist no longer and two were acquired 

Next question was - what to do with them. I concluded that although they can be used to serve soup, dips etc, but there is possibly only one dish which can be cooked in these mini-casseroles: eggs en cocotte.

There are so many recipes for eggs en cocotte with numerous variations, but I plumped for an over-complicated Delia recipe. Now, I love Delia as much as the next person, but even I have to concede she has a habit of making simple home cookery too elaborate and labour-intensive. Here is her recipe for Eggs en cocotte with morel or porcini mushrooms

Note: Start by soaking the morels or porcini about 30 minutes ahead of time. 

And: Let it cook very gently, without a lid, for 25-30 minutes

Now let the eggs bake for 15 minutes

This is not a breakfast dish

Mind you, Rick Stein's is hardly any better, just more coy

Eggs en cocotte, with chopped mushrooms, thyme and gruyere served with a herb salad and lemon dressing

• continue to cook until all the excess liquid has evaporated (erm, how long, Rick?)
• 30 mins to 1 hour preparation time
• 30 mins to 1 hour cooking time

That's why I like Delia - she's clear even when she's over-elaborate

  And actually, despite the half hour soaking and half hour reducing, it wasn't that difficult. Base of mushrooms, crack an egg into the ramekin, spoon on the creme fraiche, stick it in a bain marie, and sure as eggs is eggs, you've got a tasty and filling brunch dish

 

 

Trinity Clapham Common

So many positive reviews exist of Trinity restaurant that combines fine dining with being a short bus ride away from home.

We had been thinking of this as a possibility for my (pre)-birthday meal, anyway. The previous weekend we had ended up in the boozer next door; one thing led to another, and we booked a table. On the Saturday evening it snowed, bringing much of London transport to a standstill. So we felt doubly smug at choosing to dine fine and local.

I was totally and utterly impressed by every single aspect of the experience at this restaurant. Jimmy had a quibble - he found his Terrine of Chicken, Foie Gras and Artichokes, Pickled Apples and Brioche to be quite fatty for a starter; fat combined with wine affects his digestion. But that, I think, is an inevitable consequence of choosing Foie Gras. The restaurant is not cheap, but I felt that it delivered what we paid for. In any case, more than a third of our bill was wine; future visits will probably involve less wine. And they offer a truncated menu as a £30 for 3 course lunch.

We were served an appetiser of radishes and a cod roe emulsion; this was followed by sourdough - they explained that this had been in use for 9 years. I only recently learned about sourdough, and how each batch is made from leavening taken from the previous batch - more in Wikipedia. To be honest, I'm not sure of the objective advantages, but this tasted lovely, especially when served with home-churned butter made of Jersey cream.

My starter was Charred Mackerel, Oyster Mayonnaise, Cucumber and Shrimps, which looked and tasted much better than it sounds! I particularly liked how the shrimps were wrapped in a wafer-thin sheet of cucumber.

Jimmy's main course was Slow Cooked Veal, Truffle Walnut Pesto, Black Pudding and Artichoke. I'm not sure if he's ever had veal before, but we both watched an episode of Countryfile, which explained how modern British veal is reared, with the endorsement of Animal Welfare organisations. I can't say for certain that this restaurant sources its veal this way, but I'd be surprised if it didn't.

 

I opted for Butter Poached Halibut, Crab Tortellini, Crab and Ginger Broth. I had been tempted by a bream, leeks and mussels dish but, concerned about the inclusion of bacon, I asked the waiter how integral an ingredient it was and he patiently explained. He also suggested ways it could be made differently eg for someone who didn't like the overt taste of bacon but didn't mind it being part of a sauce. Which was nice, and has given me more confidence - I noticed in Masterchef the other week, one of the previous winners ie a professional chef specifically ordered a scallop and pancetta dish without the pancetta. 

The halibut dish was just perfection. A chunky fillet that nevertheless flaked away at the slightest touch. Even the bed of julienne veg worked well, densely packed almost as a nest, and providing lots of colour. The broth was the foundation of the dish. I find crab an interesting ingredient. The white meat is so delicate, and the brown meat has a robust flavour, which couples well with the ginger - two strong flavours bouncing off each other. And the crab tortellini was just an extra indulgence!

The food was good, but I also found the service to be just right. Plenty of staff but they never intruded. No over-fussy refilling of one's glass every time you sip, one discrete 'Is everything okay?' not while you're either mid-sentence or with the fork poised at your mouth, and, best of all, an easy friendliness that stopped well short of telling you the details of their personal life, their opinion of the food, or 'you've made a good choice' - I'm sure they were confident that every dish met the same high standards, so there couldn't be a bad choice!

They have a very large wine list, which I initially found daunting. But I figured out that, faced with information overload of wines sorted by region - region of France, say, not regions of the world - the sensible thing for me, not a wine buff, would be to select one of those sold by glass & carafe. We chose a New Zealand Pinot Noir which was fruity and very nice.

We chose the same pudding: Hot Chocolate Pot - effectively, a fondant - with Salt Caramel Ice Cream. The chocolate was very chocolatey - as it should be, and the salt of the ice cream provided a counterpoint to the bitterness of the chocolate and the sweetness of the caramel. We also took the recommended pudding wine, Domaine Mas Amiel  Maury, Languedoc-Roussillon. The waiter suggested it was like port but superior. Part of me agrees, another part feels that, in being lighter, it avoided the treacly nature of port.

So, a thoroughly enjoyable meal with, really, no criticism. I would not hesitate to go back, and would recommend it to anyone who enjoys good food and good service. I had been slightly anxious about whether I would feel under-dressed, but, actually, most of the diners were in more 'comfortable' clothes than me! Maybe the snow contributed to that.

 

Boqueria Brixton

We went here on Saturday 21 January, just a very few weeks after it opened, and I think it has the potential to be a very good restaurant indeed. The decor and setting is pleasing - stupidly, I took no photos. I found the staff to be friendly, especially considering that I did have a grumpy turn, and the food was exquisite. So the fact that there was a mess-up with service won't deter me from returning. I have, however, read another review where the writer experienced a not dissimilar problem with service. Teething problems, I hope, because if it persists, it will detract significantly from a potentially superb place.

It is on Acre Lane, opposite the Grand Union (formerly Hope & Anchor) near the junction with KIngs Avenue, Clapham Park Road and Bedford Road, so neither Clapham nor Brixton, but a short hop from home (if one regards the 137/417 route as a hop!). Until  a few years ago the premises were a butcher's, and they appear to have used the space well: a bar when you enter, leading into the dining room at the back.

As an aide, but also an important observation, I am not sure Tapas works in England. My experience in Spain involves going into a bar where Tapas are served almost as a casual aside to an evening of drink and conversation, whereas my experience in England is plates called 'Tapas' being served as option or alternative to a main course. The only real difference is that 'main courses' are usually (not always) served as a complete product - protein, sauce, starch and veg, whereas a tapas dish is what it is. So, I ordered a fish dish, Jimmy ordered a meat dish and I said we'd share some patatas bravas & grilled vegetables.

First the potatoes arrived, and, ravenously, we scoffed them. Only when they were finished did Jimmy's meat, and the vegetables arrive. I did enquire about my fish dish, which, eventually came only after Jimmy had finished his meat and the grilled vegetables had gone cold. It was explained that the fish takes time to prepare/cook. I'm more inclined to believe that the order was overlooked. Perhaps they assumed we wanted to share both protein dishes, one after the other, and it was a breakdown of understanding/culture. But they conceded that they're not serving them the authentic Spanish way; in future, I shall be clearer in how we intend to construct our meal. It's misery waiting for your main dish while your partner eats his - lest it go cold, as the vegetables did. I was offered a ham croquette on the house, which doesn't exactly do it for me, and they offered to replace the gone-cold veggies, but I had visions of my fish going cold as I waited for the veg! As it was, it went a bit tepid as we were discussing the issue. 

Fortunately, the Bacalao confitado was very nice, but Jimmy pointed out to me I had a long evening ahead of me in the cinema, and this would be my only meal of the day, so I then ordered revuelto de setas y langostino. I have to say this was the most exquisite egg dish I have ever tasted, and amongst the most beautiful dishes I can recall eating - it's basically scrambled egg with mushrooms and prawns, but so very different from what that phrase conjures up. A perfect blend of flavours, each complimenting the other, and just the right form and texture, neither too greasy nor too dry.

I finished with a Tarta de Santiago, essentially an almond tart. And that, too, was beautiful - a delicate melt-in-your-mouth texture with a robust flavour of almonds.

I can't comment on the wine, because, being mid-afternoon and ahead of a long operatic cinema evening, I chose to drink apple juice, while Jimmy had bottled beer.

To conclude, the staff were very friendly, and the decor is very nicely done. I can't forget the unfortunate hitch in service, or communication, but the food was so exceptional that it would be foolish not to return, perhaps for the Arroz Negro!

 

The Manor Arms Streatham

Sunday was a beautiful & sunny day and relatively mild. Ideally, we would have gone for a walk or a cycle ride, but quite apart from my low energy/stamina levels, Jimmy has manged to injure his toe (well, according to the doctor, it's either injured, or gout, or arthritis). So we had a choice of staying in (and ordering takeaway) or going out to eat somewhere.

We were reluctant to go to a pub for Sunday lunch. We did used to think we had bad luck that, so often, a meal out was all-but-ruined by out of control children neglected by their uninterested parents, or, worse a certain type of SmugMarrieds who feel obliged to TALK VERY LOUDLY to show what marvellous parents they think they are. Insecure, much! But one of the beauties of Twitter is discovering that this is a scourge that is sweeping the nation. Twitter also provides information on local places to eat. We decided to risk The Manor Arms.

It's been open a good few months now since refurbishment. Under previous management we have attended family christening, wedding & funeral, but it was a very different place then. We must have looked like the wide-eyed yokels from the up-the-hill when we saw how big the place is, and absolutely packed. It was like we got the last available table - and there was plenty of turnover whilst we were there.

They seem to have found a successful formula. Eminently affordable, and a small menu, they must serve several hundreds on a Sunday. My criticism of the menu was that there were two vegetarian choices, both of them pasta-based, which was a weakness in planning.

Jimmy opted for mushroom soup & olive tapenade, followed by Free Range Pot Roast beef. He didn't have a pud and I let him tuck him rather than wait for me to photograph. He thoroughly enjoyed both courses and was particularly impressed by the roast potatoes, which can be so badly done in pub Sunday roasts.

I started with Mixed Beets, soft quails eggs & Walnut salad, which isn't normally the sort of thing I'd go for, I have mixed feelings about beetroots. I can never properly predict whether I'll like them or not! But obviously, they add so much colour. Very nice, very fresh ingredients, prepared and presented with a light unfussy touch.

We weren't in the best place, positioned between the fireplace and the Ladies loos, so my view of the pub was limited, and my sight-line was constantly interrupted by the trail of women and girls heading off to there. Also, in a niche behind my left ear was a speaker, probably inaudible to everyone else, pumping out grating prog rock. On the next table was a three generational family, the youngest being only a few weeks old. They were fine actually, although only Grandma seemed to know how to hold a baby with wind. I got a bit antsy when Dad went and stood behind me - in my space - swaying in and out of my peripheral vision. I suspect he only did that while Jimmy went to the bar.

They moved off, and the table was taken by a party of two young couples. Until the waitress told them it wasn't their table. They insisted they had booked for 2.30, and although they were late, the restaurant was running late, too. The waitress pointed out that another party had been waiting longer, this was their table. With an enormous sense of wounded Entitlement the Mouthy Woman demanded to know who had decided. The waitress stated firmly "My boss". Mouthy Entitled Woman protested they didn't want to sit at two tables for two, trying to intimidate the waitress. I'll forgive a restaurant a lot if they don't stand for Inflated Senses of Entitlement. Not that there was much to forgive, really.

Main course arrived. I had Grilled Sea Bream, Charlotte Potatoes, buttered Leeks & Shellfish Bisque. A good combination of flavours. Excellently cooked, good ingredients. Froth is obviously a big thing at The Manor Arms, for Jimmy also had froth with his soup. 

I should know better but I'm a sucker for puddings. Again, in an effort to break out of predictability, I opted for bread and butter pudding with caramel ice cream. I suppose, after the first two courses, I had high expectations, which t didn't live up to. It was 'fine' but I don't think it was anything special. And I can't decide which photo I prefer.

 
Although, actually, food on white plates doesn't look that great against the white background of the blog...she realises after 9 3/4 years of blogging...! So I've also added them to my Food and Drink photo album, which has a grey background!

Brixton Space

As we're trying to get out a bit more, I thought it might be a good idea to revive the practice where I write a brief review of places where we've eaten. Although this would be better with pictures, which I didn't take!

Brixton Space is a Cafe Fusion Tapas Wine Bar on Brixton Water Lane just opposite the Hobgoblin pub. It's been open a few months, and we went along on Friday evening. They had a brand new menu and didn't open until 7 that particular evening.

It's a small place, basically a single shop front with chairs and tables. Nothing fancy. I was sitting on a stool with no arms or back support so an hour and a half was about my limit. There were three other parties in the same time as us, butt even though the place was small, they didn't impinge on us.

The place is run by a Polish woman, who has taken the idea of Spanish tapas and has introduced non-Spanish elements. This is something I have wished some bars in places I've visited in Spain would do, so is entirely in line with my thinking.

The menu isn't massive. We ordered olives & feta, organic bread (from Breads Etcetera), and Mexican Toast. Jimmy ordered some meatballs in tomato sauce and I had a goat's cheese and fig tart.

Put very simply, the food was very tasty. Quite simply done, with very little fuss and palaver, just good quality ingredients, imaginatively assembled. I specifically complemented the proprietor on the side salad. It was only rocket and cherry tomatoes; I'll often ignore the ubiquitous side salad as an insult to the main dish, but these were absolutely fresh and lightly dressed. Which doesn't seem a lot to ask but doesn't always happen. 

Overall, I really liked the place, and if I lived closer I'd probably go in quite often, even if just for a snack and a glass or two of wine. I don't know how busy it gets, and what's the peak time but it was full enough for their to be an atmosphere without it being too crowded.

Baan Thai, Brixton

We dined there this evening. The food was magnificent - I had Pad Mamuang Himapan (Stir fried king prawn with roasted cashew nut, mushroom and sun dried chilli), which exceeded my expectations, and half a serving each of coconut rice and egg fried rice which were perfect.

We've been before and will go back again, because the food was so good. The service was strange and were I marking it, I would award a big fat zero. Which is not to suggest a negative - I was bemused more than anything.

To be honest, I got the distinct impression that no one 'front of house' has ever been in a restaurant. It's like they're operating a café whilst serving restaurant food at restaurant prices in a place decorated as a restaurant.

The personal interaction was minimal. They were perfectly civil. No suggestion otherwise. We arrived just before 6, and were the first customers, though several more arrived before we ordered. It was only when we arrived that they bothered to put the heating on. The heating partly comes out of a ceiling vent which they poked with a stick whilst people ate, and from a fan heater which was strung across the floor with a trailing cable and no yellow hazard tape! Jimmy kept his coat on for ten minutes!

While we were eating, we watched the delivery man wheel out his scooter which he had parked in the restaurant. We watched two staff members wheel a (stolen) Tesco trolley through the restaurant and return a few minutes later, to wheel it back through the restaurant stacked with cans of drink etc.

The waiter interrupted me while I was ordering - cut short my words -  to ask if I wanted a starter. The red wine was opened out of sight; it was just poured straight into our glasses, full to the brim, no room to breathe. I thought it had been stored in a fridge; Jimmy felt that it was merely very cold room temperature (perhaps they didn't know winter has arrived).

When serving the food, they first brought out the warmed plates, then left them there for a while before they brought out my choice - and handed it to Jimmy. I'd plated up and Jimmy told me to start before his arrived.

As I say, the food is lovely, and the staff were not rude nor did they make me angry. I would go back again, largely because they don't really have much in the way of competition locally. But their attitude to service was extraordinary in its naivety!

Joanna's Restaurant

We've walked past Joanna's on Westow Hill, Crystal Palace many times but have never gone; it's been open for years and gets good reviews. So what could possibly go wrong?

We arrived and did the usual 'table for two'. The front-of-house bloke asked whether we wanted a drink at the bar. In my experience, one is generally shown to the bar if you need to wait until a table becomes available or if it's the practice to present the menu and take orders before leading you to the table. Neither was the case here, so I just ended up sitting on a too-high bar stool drinking an aperitif I didn't particularly want in a howling draught. Eventually we had to tell Mr FoH we wanted to go to our table - like we had wanted to when we first arrived, and like everybody else was doing.

We ordered and that was fine. The order included 'some tap water', so the waitress brought us each a wine glass of water. It was fine, it was chilled, but I thought it was petty and grudging. Either you use a wine glass with a jug of water, or at least bring half pint tumblers.

We ordered wine as well, which was placed in an ice bucket beyond our reach. It's a long time since I've been in a restaurant that does this. It's very old-fashioned and it's rude to customers to forbid them from controlling the wine they've ordered and intend to pay for. I had taken about three sips from my glass when the FoH came over, poured some more wine in, without pausing long enough for me - cutlery in hand, food in mouth - to react.

I asked for the wine to be put in our reach (they were woefully understaffed and I sure wasn't going to sit around waiting to catch their eye when I did want my glass refilled). His response alone was enough to spoil the meal and make sure we will never return.

"I'll put it in a cooler on the table shall I? None of the staff will lay a finger on it again"

in the most sardonic withering tones of contempt. I thought he was an arrogant jumped up cock; Jimmy's view was that he was an arsehole.

The food was of startlingly poor quality. It was as if they'd tried but not quite understood what they were trying to achieve.

I ordered a Sweet Onion & Parmesan Tart with rocket & walnut dressing. The walnut dressing was a smear of tasteless  sludge far away from the rocket. The rocket had some parmesan grated on it, looking like they'd use the bit of the grater most people would use for cheddar. The actual tart tasted rather nice despite the pastry being burnt. It seemed odd that it came in a triangular lump cut from a whole pie. Just looked very dated and amateur. Jimmy said his marinated ribs were very nice; again, they looked to have been dumped unceremoniously on the plate.

Unfortunately, there is nothing good to say about the mains. I had a crab linguine which tasted mostly of the cheap olive oil the linguine had been tossed in, and I had to abandon it. It looked completely unappetising, just a sludge thrown into a bowl and hope for the best. Home-cooking, I guess, but not in a good way.

Jimmy abandoned his seabass which was undercooked on one side and on the other side, burnt, and imbued with the residue of everything else that had been cooked on the griddle. That was just thrown down on a plate. Separately he was given two undercooked boiled potatoes, with skins still on - but they weren't new potatoes - and some boiled spinach, without any sauce or even a knob of butter.

From where I was sitting, I could see the pass, and most of what was coming out looked burnt and generally unappetising. The chips looked greasy, singed and lack-lustre.

We remained painfully polite, but when we asked for the bill and it was clear we weren't staying, it was thrown down on the table and we were glared at.

This was our first time out for two weeks and the night before Jimmy's first whole day off work in three. The place wasn't cheap - although not especially pricey, either. We were just astounded at how rubbish it was. But even if the food had been acceptable, we wouldn't return because of the rudeness of the front of house man.

Amuse bouches

A supplement fell out of the Radio Times. It was a Jamie Oliver guide to Christmas food. I quickly flicked through it and my eye was caught by something he calls Party Forks, which seems to be a suggestion for amuse bouches. I mentioned it to Jimmy, and he immediately said - oh, you can put them in vol-au-vents.

You cannot imagine how much that annoys me. Amuse bouches seem to be somewhat fashionable at the moment; vol-au-vents were fashionable sometime in the 70s. Okay, I know they pop up time and again on buffets, but I reckon that is so that a tiny quantity of ingredients can be disguised by a great big wodge of puff pastry.

I think there are some interesting ideas for presenting amuse bouches. Skewering them with forks looks fun - the picture that accompanies the article has a selection of non-matching foks with eye-catching handles. Other ways of serving that spring to mind include shot glasses, espresso cups and Chinese soup spoons. I suppose you can also use small saucers or ramekins as well as rather less exciting cocktail sticks and crostini.

But at home, when you're already creating unnecessarily fussy work by creating the amuse bouches in the first place, it seems silly to create even more fuss by stuffing them into a vo-au-vent case, which, basically has nothing to attract the eye. And some of the ideas for mini-appetisers should either be served raw or as liquid!

In so many ways that just sums Jimmy up. And it annoys me!

Pictures from the internet: if I have breached your copyright please let me know and I will remove the picture or give credit where it is due

Ready-made omelettes

I saw these in Sainsburys and immediately twittered about them, because I just think it's a convenience food too far. We can all think of items where life is just to short to prepare them from scratch, or where we have a lacuna in  our talents,  but I must draw the line a long way before omelettes.

Some work-related thing a while back, we had to come up with some pictorial analogy for what we do, and via the iphone, we emerged with 'Solving problems you didn't know you had'. And I think there are a lot of products on the market that exist only to solve non-existent problems.

But, I'm a little bit torn on this one. I know that I often spot things in catalogues that fall out of the Radio Times which make me say 'Just what I've been looking for' whilst slightly mocking the other products that are clearly and obviously useless.

I suppose Ready Made omelettes are like this. I've even found a website that explains how wonderful they are. Their justifications include:

Save time and effort – simply reheat from frozen

Microwave or Oven cook

• Great Shell egg taste without the mess

Easy portion and cost control for budgeting

No wastage

Fast serve – less than 3 minutes if a microwave is used

Versatile – use the Plain and fill your own

My problem is that, either they're citing non-existent problems or else they are providing solutions where the obvious and easier solution is - use eggs, make omelette.

I have thought about it and I concede that if you are living in a bedsit or caravan, either permanently or on holiday, and you only have a microwave, then the ready-made omelette is probably the only way you can get an omelette. But I would think an even better solution would be to get a Baby Belling or maybe just an electric frying pan.  Or if you're on holiday, I would think that maybe you should just think more laterally and concede that home-cooked omelette is not essential!

The attraction is  that they're freezable, so if you really fancy an omelette butty after getting home from a night out after the egg-selling shops are shut, this is your perfect solution. But solution to what - that you're organised enough to think ahead to the fact that you might conceivably need a ready-made omelette but not sufficiently organised to buy fresh eggs for the larder?

I'm not suggesting that Sainsburys should be banned from selling ready-made omelettes nor should people be banned from buying them. I'm not exactly a fan of untrammelled capitalism, but a free market also leaves you free to say 'no'.

Even though I mock it, I have outlined various situations where there is a use for a ready-made omelette. Which is the nub of my problem, I guess. It just feels so wrong; it's finding a solution from the wrong direction. But, yet, isn't that the point of innovation and invention, to eliminate ever having to think laterally and to allow every desire instantly to be gratified.

And of course, this whole thinking is shot-through with double-standards and hypocrisy. There is so much processed and convenience-food shizzle in my house. So, I can explain why I draw the line long before ready-made omelettes and pre-grated cheddar, but why do I think therefore that my standards ought to be universal?

Christmas Lunch at The Mango Tree

Oh dear.

To say it was a bit rubbish would be - about fair, I think.

It wasn't totally awful, but I'm unlikely ever to go back again, except if I was invited to join a party - if I had any influence I would try to persuade a change of venue.

There aren't many restaurants within walking distance of our office, and this just about counts as walking distance, although I went straight from home and just walked from Victoria Station.

I had been a bit anxious about it - although not in a panic attack way - trying to work out whether a Christmas meal for £38 before drink and service could possibly give value. For some bizarre reason we had opted for the Christmas special which seemed to offer a very small choice of dishes for what seemed like a lot of money.

I didn't want to push the point, because it's not difficult to rack up £38 for three proper courses a la carte in a proper restaurant, but most West End restaurants manage pre-theatre dinners for under £20, in some cases a lot under £20. And indeed, it was chosen on the basis of people who were satisfied at previous experience of two-for-one or dinner for a tenner offers.  It isn't actually a chain restaurant, but service was of that style - waiters with earpieces, no personal touch, very much being on a production line.

It wasn't until we sat down that we realised that we were going to be served a range of dishes, rather than having to choose one. Which rather buggered me. I eat fish but not meat so had to go vegetarian, which, I have to say, represented one of the biggest rip-offs going.

The starters weren't bad, two tiny spring rolls and a little kebab, plus lots of stringy things and bits of chopped vegetable in a peanut sauce. Not fabulous, not awe-inspiring, but decent.

The main course was a joke. Three lumps of butternut squash in an indeterminate yellow sauce, some noodles in a spicy sauce, some rice spooned into half a red pepper, and a few tiny broccoli florets and tiny strips of red pepper. I have been to Oriental restaurants where you end up getting maybe three prawns in a bowl of noodles and sauce - and you pay about a fiver for it and it 'does' because you know what you're getting at that price. I don't like restaurants that use strongly flavoured sauces to disguise the fact that there is no flavour in the actual food - such as it is. I abandoned it after swallowing a mouthful of salt; the taste lingers on.

As for pudding - a chocolate bread and butter that just didn't work (I wasn't the only one who abandoned it) and two pieces of agar-agar, one mango which was a bit meh, and another which was half coconut and half clear. The clear was pretty horrible although the coconut was good - and about the size of a coin.

The atmosphere and service was of the sort you'd expect at Pizza Express - one long room of tables, which was far too noisy, so I couldn't hear anything that three of our party of six were saying. Okay, maybe that's to be expected at a Christmas lunch, but it wasn't as if there was any loud larey obnoxious party there.

There was nothing remarkable about the decor, and a real lack of attention to detail. Any one of the factors I would have shrugged off, but taken together added up to poor service: -my knife had a very visible splash mark on it; I ordered wine, for T, S and me, D and R ordered beer, and M a lemonade. When the waiter brought the bottle, he offered it to R to taste; R pointed out that it was the three women having wine, which non-plussed the waiter, who then moved my arm, before he said 'Excuse me can I get to your glass'. There were two wine glasses at each setting, of different sizes; he poured white wine into the larger of the two (which is no big deal but surprised me). He then said "Shall I go and get an ice bucket?" I was a bit surprised that a bottle of wine over £20 should come with a screw top, although I know of course it is a perfectly acceptable way of bottling wine. I just like the theatre of the ritual of the wine being uncorked. In fact, I like dining as theatre and theatre was badly lacking.

We had to ask three times for tap water. I normally expect tap water to be served in a jug, with ice cubes, and usually, a slice of lemon, but instead they just poured some into a wine glass each. I'm sure if we had asked, refills would have been forthcoming, but it was indicative of the production line mentality. It was clear that they didn't want people lingering to savour the meal, which is typical of chain-type restaurants.

I was a bit surprised, although completely unbothered, that although they were advertising this as a Christmas meal, at considerable premium, they made no effort to provide crackers or streamers. What was more of a surprise was that they didn't bother even throwing a coffee into the deal.

It would be unfair to say it was completely bad, and if I had been paying Pizza Express prices I would probably have accepted a lot of the shortcomings. But it's very unusual for me to be hungry five hours after finishing a three course meal. All I can say is, it would have been a better dining experience at Pizza Express. The food in the staff canteen, at less than a tenner including dodgy plonk, was much better, although being self-service there are no grounds for comparison.

Here's their website for what it's worth - full of marketing guff The Mango Tree

Getting back into the swing

We went swimming on Friday, the first time in over a week, at least. It's a lot harder to motivate myself to go without Jimmy. Unfortunately our working schedules are such that we don't get much opportunity to do such stuff together. I do wish he had an ordinary job which gave him weekends and evenings off and we could properly do stuff together - although we'd then get in each other's way and on each other's nerves.

I can't say that I was highly motivated when I was in the water. I didn't exactly push myself. I think I did ten lengths which was a but pathetic. But not bad for someone who wasn't trying! I didn't really get that feeling of pounding heart or having pushed my muscles. again, I think that that's probably a good thing.

Afterwards we went to the Fujiyama Noodle Bar

Good food and excellent VFM. But I don't think we will go back because neither of us likes to sit in a restaurant where disco music is blaring out, particularly not the sort that sounds as though the needle has got stuck for the entire 45 minutes or so we were there, and especially not so early in the evening.

Today we decided was a cycling day. I popped out early afternoon to go to M&S at Clapham South. I was quite taken aback, although not surprised at how crowded the Common was. I can't say I care for Clapham Common. It's flat and boring, and is dominated by large groups of Baying Hoorays and Loud Antipodeans, the sort of men who wear Bermuda shorts, wrap around shades and flip-flops and give the impression they are doing it to prove how trendy they are. Plus there is so much broken glass on so many pathways - too moronic and selfish even to take their bottles away.

We set out to Tooting Common, which was nicer. It is possible to find spots with comparative tranquillity, although we always seem to head for the pond and then the café, which were heaving, especially with unsupervised brats and dogs. I did get a little bit of insight into myself. One child was beginning to irritate me like nobody's business. I did wonder when, rather than if, she would cycle into one or other of us. It was me, and it was a surprise attack, from behind, wrenching my right arm forward awkwardly.She said sorry, then her mother said, say sorry, so she said she had said sorry, so I thanked her for saying sorry, then her mother made a couple of guilt-stricken faces of sorry.

And I realised,it's not thoughtless behaviour I detest - it has taken me many years slowly to learn how to think through the consequences of my actions and their impact on other people. What I truly detest is people who behave thoughtlessly and then, when there action has a tangible effect on someone else (me) fail to recognise the significance of that. Whereas in this instant, something happened, and I got over it.

Again I don't think we over-exerted ourselves; in retrospect we spent too long sitting round and not enough time riding. Our excuse is that we have neglected it over the winter. But it's almost like we just cycle out to have a coffee and then cycle home again. That having been said, climbing up the incline that leads to the loco sheds I worked up a sweat and a state of breathlessness, and I didn't have to dismount once on the steep climb up to home. I was also sensible enough to have a shower immediately I got home, rather than sitting around procrastinating, which is my wont. It's also so much better to shower at home than at Brixton Rec because I can unhook the shower head and pound the water against my thighs.

I weighed myself. I am actually heavier than when I weighed myself in February, but I'm not too upset about that. I can still feel and see the difference in my body, and I have the next seven months or so to continue working on it.

Then was dinner. An M&S special, starting with mushroom crispbakes on a bed of wilted young spinach; smoked haddock with cheddar and mustard melt, served with baby new potatoes and asparagus, followed by lemon ricotta cheesecake, washed down with Chablis

Let's praise proper drinks

Beer gets ahead as tiny brewers find holy grail

I can't drink lager or other fizzy drinks in any sort of quantity. For example, in Berlin a couple of years back, I tried some German beers and while I liked the taste in my mouth, I couldn't deal with the fizziness. And that was proper quality controlled stuff without the ghastly chemicals that pollute many British lagers. Similarly I can't drink most fizzy drinks, with the exception of D&G's Ginger Beer and an occasional Orangina. So it stands to reason that I much prefer Real Ale to lager.

One thing that has been bugging me for a couple of years now is cider.

Cider got a bad reputation as being the drink of choice of, er, winos. I like cider a lot although I don't drink it too often, largely because I believe, rightly or wrongly, that it is impossible to follow it with anything else, so any drinking of cider must be followed only by more cider.

A few years ago I discovered that Sainsburys - for example - sell quite a range of organic cider from small producers generally in the West Country or East Anglia, also Normandy and Brittany.

Then the abomination that is Magners burst onto the market and became extremely popular. One of those classic examples of people being fooled that a lavish advertising campaign is the intellectual equivalent of objective critical recommendation. One day I sat in Wetherspoons and perused the card showing available products and their prices.

And I questioned the popularity of Magners. I did a comparison with the offered organic cider, Westons, I think, and discovered that Westons was larger in volume and more potent by percentage alcohol than Magners. And cheaper. Which is why, obviously people opt for the chemical crap over something half-decent (admittedly not quite the same as the obscure makes that taste particularly gorgeous in my back garden). And it seems that the people most likely to obey the siren call of advertisers are those who would otherwise claim to be obeisant to nobody. Jimmy was once reprimanded for buying an organic Polish cider rather than Magners because 'Magners is Irish and so are you'. As if Ireland has ever been renowned as maker of cider.

And my other major quibble is ice. Now, I fully accept that everyone is perfectly entitled to take their drink however they like it. Those who know me will attest to my general dislike of ice, and I fully acknowledge that my preference for an iceless gin-and-bitter lemon (assuming the bitter lemon is chilled, which in most badly run bars, it isn't) is an individual quirk and doesn't make that drink right, just right for me. Conversely, I am a bit odd in that I rather like a dry sherry with ice.

But cider with ice? How ridiculous. Hundreds of thousands of people are drinking cider with ice because the advertisers are telling them to. I went to a pub a few months ago and ordered a cider, nothing exciting, one of the long-established mass produced brands. It came with ice. It was actually a rip-off, in the sense that it was illegal. The advertised price was for a pint - I ordered a half and would have been charged half the price. However, it was a significantly short measure, because it was served in a crown-marked half pint glass. I rejected it, and the barstaff had to tip it. She was disgruntled. I pointed out that I had not asked for ice and she had not given me the option. I implied - without being direct - that the fault was entirely hers.

While Jimmy was pub manager - home now, finished yesterday lunchtime - he has had two presentations from Drinks Giant, Diageo. This has focused on presentation of the product, and has basically been, fill the glass with ice to fool the customer into thinking they are getting a long drink. Obviously, with a drink like, say gin-and-tonic, it is possible to serve it with lots of ice and still comply with Weights and Measures (or whatever the relevant legislation is). And certainly, I want to stress that Diageo did not come near suggesting short measures. However, if you have a glass almost full of ice, how can you tell, especially in a busy bar, whether you are being short-measured? Many a unscrupulous landlord will deliberately short-measure, many an inexperienced barstaff will not know it is necessary to wait until the optic is full until pouring a second measure. Jimmy did mention that his girlfriend won't drink most things with ice added. Diageo's reaction - she's wrong. My reaction, no, I'm not. It's me that paying. It's me that decides.

As I say, however an individual chooses to drink a drink is fine by me (as long as it's legal!) and I do accept that adverts can plant an idea that, once tried, seem right. But I don't see the point of drinking expensive chemical shit plus added ice to remove the taste when there are some really gorgeous natural and cheaper products available. Just don't get it. It's like when Fosters became the drink of choice for a generation, because it was advertised.

Restaurants

I used to write a lot about restaurants on mmofm. Going to restaurants is one of my favourite pastimes and one that I share with Jimmy. Our first proper date was at Still Luigi's at Gypsy Hill. We have not been back in years. The quality started to decline, and it was pretty obvious that Luigi's health was also in decline. It was only a couple of weeks ago we found out that Luigi died a couple of years back. The restaurant still exists, and, thus, must be doing something right, still, despite events.

Restaurant reviews are big on the internet, with various websites devoted to them. I tend to take them with a pinch of salt. So often do I read 'the waiters had an attitude problem' when my own experience has been directly contradictory, leaving me to wonder whether the attitude problem was in fact that of the customer. Even when there is criticism - or praise - of the food, it always leaves me wondering whether the standards of the customer are appropriate.

Reviews tend to focus on Central London restaurants more than suburban ones. Someone once told me that a mutual friend was 'a foodie because he goes to all the 'name' restaurants' (TV chefs and so on). I actually don't see that as a definition of a 'foodie', because it might be because the friend really appreciates the quality of food which is served there, or it might be because he is swayed by the brand name. I like being the sort of non-foodie who sniffs out good restaurants that lack fame. But also one who can see the limitations and weaknesses, and still return because of the strengths.

In the past few months, my restauranting, at least with Jimmy, has been limited, mainly to very local restaurants. Since he has been in the pub, and until a couple of weeks ago, we have only been to tried and trusted places lying between home and his pub

• the incomparable Bombay (Inn? Brasserie?) just round the corner. It may not be the best Indian in London, but it is good - very good - with the obvious added bonus of being just round the corner. It's rare we go there and don't see someone we know. Kim, the owner-manager cares passionately about his business and his customers. We like very much our regular waiter, although shamefully we don't know his name
• Da Franco's on Streatham High Road, a good quality inexpensive Italian personally owned, managed and overseen by the omnipresent Franco, ably assisted by Paolo. A splendid menu of regular items, especially their fish selection, supplemented by a varied and tempting 'specials' list. Jimmy doesn't rate their ice cream, but I can always find something satisfying on the pudding list
• Thai (Garden?) almost opposite Da Franco, a reasonably good Thai. I like it more than Jimmy does, and, I think, it is Streatham's only Thai. I think it rests on its laurels a bit,and I wouldn't choose it for a special night out, but it's good for a change
• Little Italy, in The High, on Streatham High Road. It's been there a long time and is absolutely reliable. The menu remains resolutely unchanged after several years, even the 'specials'. I think other residents of the Streatham area are fonder of it than we are, but it's safe bet especially at awkward mid-afternoon times when almost everywhere is shut
• The legendary Mrs Wong, on The Dip (near St Leonard's Junction). People travel from miles to Mrs Wong. For years we didn't go there, favouring the more refined atmosphere of Hung's on Sunnyhill Road, but Hung's underwent radical change, and to put it bluntly, horribilised. Mrs Wong isn't licensed - it's Bring Your Own. The tables are close together, and it's not an environment in which you would linger long - and they don't encourage you to. But it's brilliant for a quick meal - on the way home, pre-cinema or whatever, and always delivers value for money. There is a reason why it has been going so long, gets full so quickly, and has such a widespread reputation. Nothing fancy

In Central London, I have, in the past six months or so, been to Pasta Brown on Bow Street, Cafe Boulevard on Wellington Street, Loch Fyne on Catherine Street, Marsala Zone on Floral Street, Giovanni's on Goodwin's Court and Porter's on Henrietta Street all in Covent Garden, and the Cinnamon Club near work. I wouldn't hesitate to return to any of them.

Porter's is probably the one that is all round the most satisfactory, and Giovanni's is the craziest (they post the chef's mood in the window, management have a Tito Beltran obsession, and they have dishes designed by Angela Gheorghiu and Roberto Alagna - I'm not sure whether or not Angela's contains garlic...). Cinnamon Club is the swankiest. I think they all offer value for money, and I have no grounds for complaint about any. I have also eaten in Wagamama, Ponti's and Pizza Express, none of which are anything special but deliver what they set out to do, and no doubt will be visited again.

Upper Norwood is a mecca for restaurant fans. We have eaten in A Torre, a family-run Portuguese restaurant. It has a delightful sense of chaos, and is astonishingly cheap for delicious food (and they have a garden out the back, we discovered, soon after the smoking ban came in!). Mediterranea - well, I can only quote DiscoStu on the Virtual Norwood site

This place is awesome, the food is amazing.........and reasonably priced. the service is fantastic with friendly waiters/waitresses who are genuinely passionate about the food. It all adds up to a great dining experience.

And today, our old favourite, Los Toreros. To be honest, it doesn't stand comparison to La Rueda on Clapham High Street,and I can kind of see where the negative comments are coming from. But I like the fact that the staff don't keep bothering you, that it's so massive you never feel you're sitting on your neighbour's lap, and while the food isn't amazing, it's all satisfactory. Going mid-Sunday afternoon, at this time of year, is bound to find any restaurant quiet, but it was about a quarter to a third full.

I think probably of the lot, I would most recommend Mediterranea for the way its passion is evident in every aspect. I have especial fondness for our local Indian, for Da Franco's, and for A Torre for proving that a little bit of the laid back charm of Southern Europe is possible on a side street of an unglamorous - but for its splendid selection of restaurants - junction where five London Boroughs meet

Weather moan weather

I'm joining in the meme.

I waited so long for the heat to arrive and now it's here I wish it would just piss off. Or piss down.

I feel really shit. I was supposed to be out tonight. Just couldn't face it. Even though I'm missing my favourite baritone in my favourite opera. I even told Gerald weeks ago I'd be there. I'm sure he'll survive...!

There have been two claps of thunder. Dry impotent useless claps of thunder. I wander into the garden occasionally and gaze hopefully at the sky, hoping that it will chuck it down.

I am supposedly watching Germany v Italy but it's annoying the hell out of me. It's not about those intense annoying Budweiser ads (you know, if I was a Budweiser drinker, which I'm not because it's chemical piss, I would have ceased to be one now. Not necessarily out of principle but because of the association with those adverts that make me homicidal). It's not the it, it's the me.

I am feeling drained and lethargic. Prime cause, ongoing fybromyalgia/CFS whatever. Secondary cause - is it the tablets from the drug trial? Dunno. Is it the heat? Yeah, probably. Is it that I had alcohol over the weekend? Without a doubt. But something that has been bubbling at the back of my mind for weeks, and has suddenly coalesced into something so obvious. I always feel shit when I eat bread and bread-products.

I wonder, if I cut out the bread, will I feel any better? Or, when the rains come, as come they must, will I not care no more?

Fish revisited

About eighteen months ago I reported on Tesco's capricious misuse of the word "Vegetarian".

Today, that entry has been linked from a forum which is discussing the same issue

A poster there writes about the moronic and dishonest response she got from Tesco, who said

I do apologise that you where shocked to find fish in a vegetarian product and I apologise for the upset caused.

There is a vegetarian called a Pesco-vegetarians which means they eat fish, dairy and eggs..."Therefore, as the content of fish is suitable for some forms of vegetarianism, for example Pesco Vegetarianism, Semi-Vegetarianism and Macrobiotic Vegetarianism, we will continue to show our Vegetarian symbol on products which contain fish, so long as there are no animal by-products."

Based on this I would warn you to exercise extreme caution in regard to anything that the lying bunch of tosspots at Tesco say regarding what is in their food.

Shopping city

The thing about my office block is that, because it holds 3500 people it is capable of sustaining viable commerce. They have not yet introduced lunchtime bazaars selling cheap pseudo-ethnic jewellery, nor has the promised cash machine been installed. Despite popular demand, Friday trampolining is not yet a feature. Nor, unlike a previous workplace, Tuesday Shiatsu.

But, we do have a FastTicket machine for train tickets. And a restaurant and two cafés. Between them, and the vending machines, these catering outlets sell just about everything you can possibly want in a catering sort-of-way. Hot dinners healthy and non-healthy, soups, salads, yoghurts, cream cakes, chocolate cakes, lardy-Merkin-muffins, water fruit juices, sugar-and-fizz drinks, milk, yoghurt drinks, teas, fruit infusions, hot chocolate,coffee with or without syrup shots, chocolate bars traditional and modern organic, fruit, crisps, nuts, chewing gum, polo mints, even, on specific occasions, alcohol. I have heard it say we even have a gym (dread word...) in the basement. But one thing they do not sell is sweeties.

So, your intrepid blogger ventured to the Evil Empire that sits in the next building. Some people boycott the Evil Empire, but my plan is more cunning. I go in there specifically to buy the items that are loss leaders, mainly sandwiches, milk, Duchy Originals Organic biscuits, that sort of thing. Guiltily, I chose something that - sweeties - that wouldn't be a loss leader. The total came to £3.76, I tendered a tenner. The check-out woman apologised for not having any fivers, and having to give me maggies instead. Pleasantly, I said, it wasn't a problem, it all gets spent just as quickly. She counted out my change "That's seven pounds and twenty four..."

As I walked away from the shop, I thought "No, it's not."

When you hear that the Evil Empire has gone into liquidation, you'll know whom to credit...

Liquorice

I never realised just how amazing Liquorice is.

I've always thought of it as a very special sort of sweet. A colourful sweet with a playful Bertie Bassett character. I like the layered levels of liquorice allsorts

, and I like taking them apart and eating them stratum by stratum.  I like taking the yellow or pink sugary bit off of the liquorice centre and eating them piecemeal.  (Don't ask how I eat Custard Creams)

You can make Liquorice ice-cream

But I never knew what an amazing medicine it is, too.

Liquorice was known and grown in the region of Mesopotamia... Natural liquorice root was found in the  Tomb of King Tut.  Early Greek physicians like Theophratus and Hippocrates used natural liquorice to heal wounds and sore throats and it is an extremely important herb in Chinese and Homeopathic medicines. Manuscripts dating from 360AD, of Buddhist origin, talk of natural liquorice helping eye ailments, skin diseases, coughs and loss of hair. In the Middle Ages it became very popular as a sweet medicine and general pick-me-up. Its other past uses have included a beautifying agent, an aphrodisiac and elixir of life.

Amongst other things, it is  a powerful anti-inflammatory and soothing herb useful for peptic ulcers, gastritis, indigestion, dry irritating coughs, pharyngitis and laryngitis. It even cures Chronic Fatigue (so why didn't my homeopathic rheumatologist proscribe me Liquorice Allsorts?), and it improves memory in men over fifty-five.

But be warned, it is possible to overdose on Pontefract Cakes, with frightening consequences...

Crown and Sceptre Food Poisoning

Whatever you do, don't ever eat at Wetherspoon's Crown and Sceptre pub on the borders of Brixton and Streatham (A23/A205).

We have been dissatisfied for a while. Portions getting smaller, chips getting crappier. A couple of weeks ago Jimmy sent back the Fish Pie because it was still frozen in the middle.

Tonight, he ordered a beefburger, I ordered a veggie burger. His beefburger was still pink in the middle. Which would be fine if it really were beef, but even their menu states that you can have a 'beef'burger for an extra pound.

The menu says the burgers come with salad. Practically a breach of the Trades Description Ac, as the so-called salad was inserted into the bun (which, for both of us was coloured black). The burgers were served on cold plates. I had to beg for cutlery. In consequence, the food was stone-cold by the time I came to eat it. And the portion of chips was insulting. Frankly, we could have got better VFM at McDs over the road. And that is saying something...

Being a fool, I then ordered a chocolate chip cheesecake.

It came.

On a hot plate.

I touched it. The pudding was cold. I sent it back, demanding a refund.

Never ever ask for a replacement. The kitchen staff will, generally, spit on it. Instead, they'll stick it in the fridge, and serve it to the next unsuspecting customer tomorrow. Having been touched by my hands, no doubt at least averagely dirty. An I probably put my hands in my hair, letting whatever's in there fall onto the cheesecake. And Jimmy has a cold which he may well have breathed over the cheesecake.

This was only after I had requested a spoon with which to eat my pudding. Sorry, fork isn't good enough.

If a place can get simple things wrong like serving hot food on cold plates, and cold food on hot plates, I really do not have any confidence in their basic food hygiene standards. I am never going to eat there again. I would seriously advise anybody else never to eat there.

Meanwhile, they have a magazine circulating where Tim Sanctimonious Martin, their CEO boasts of improving the menus in their groundbreaking no-smoking pubs.

Well, Martin, let me say this. the Crown and Sceptre was an early success for Wetherspoons. If this is the standards tolerated there, I can only assume that Food Poisoning is Company Policy at Wetherspoons

But I am never going to eat there again. You have neglected the core customer base, about whom you clearly don't give a shit. Too much preaching, not enough attention to detail.

Sorry, but there are more pubs than churches round here. And even more restaurants. I've been going in there 14 years.

Never, ever again.

Total shit, total disdain for the customers. Utter neglect for Food Hygiene. And they allow drug-dealing and -taking. Get a grip, the place has gone to the dogs.

Not taking me with it.

Bye bye and good riddance to Crown and Sceptre, Streatham Hill/Brixton Hill/Streatham Place. South Circular.

Fucking con merchants.

So up their arses with their no-smoking, they feel happy poisoning people with their so-called 'food'.

Can't even do their chips right...

I know the power of Google...

Prom 11

Last night we went to the Albert Hall, pausing en route for a delightful meal at Hugo's. I have just one criticism - if I order a Real Organic Lemonade I don't really expect to find it including ice-cubes made - presumably - from tap water. Otherwise, really good quality food - I had crayfish and ginger wrapped in smoked salmon served on an enticing bed of diced-tiny beetroot-and-red-pepper and strips of cucumber; followed by halloumi and roasted veg with couscous, perhaps a little overmuch enormous mushrooms; finished with the most scrumilicious Blueberry Creme Brulee. A good 8/10 overall. The house red is very nice. If you want to combine with a trip to the Albert Hall booking is a must.

The music was

Mendelssohn
Overture - The Hebrides ('Fingal's Cave') (10 mins)
Bruch
Violin Concerto No.1 in G minor (25 mins)
interval
Vaughan Williams
A Sea Symphony* (65 mins)

Leila Josefowicz (violin)

Janice Watson (soprano)*
Dwayne Croft (baritone)*

Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Choir*
Chester Festival Chorus*

Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra
Gerard Schwarz conductor

The piece that lingers in my mind is Fingal's Cave, beautiful music. It was beautifully played but it didn't really fill the Albert Hall.

Next was Bruch's fabulous violin concerto. Again, technically excellent playing of a beautiful piece of music, but not one that moved me to rapture. Leila Josefowicz produced a beautiful sound.

The second half, Vaughan Williams Sea Symphony was merely mediocre. I have a much better performance on CD. It was magnificent to see such a large choir who made such a beautiful sound, the Ladies in particular, especially the sopranos. I found my attention wavering during much of the performance despite my close studying of Whitman's poems. Janice Watson made a very nice sound; Dwayne Croft I can take or leave. An adequate serviceable sound, but, ultimately, generic.

And I suppose 'generic' would sum up the overall performance from the orchestra. 6/10 or 3 stars, possibly, but no more. My summary of the V-W was 'Wagnerian in its ambitions but not in its intensity'. And Jimmy got very hot, wearing good trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, despite me telling him he was overdressed.

Tonight, The Dream of Gerontius with Mr Halle's Band and Choir. The last time I heard them perform this was May 1984. My insightful review at the time: "In places the music was really powerful." I am very much looking forward to hearing the much-raved about Alice Coote, whom I have never heard live.