Hugh gotta be jokin'!!!!

Channel 4. Say no more.

Not so silent

A six o'clock screening of Pandora's Box made for an early exit from work. I was running close to being late as I crossed the bridge from Embankment. I thought I'd avoid rumbling belly sounds during the film and bought a sandwich from EAT on South Bank to fill the gap. That's when I experienced that annoying walking whilst eating thing I had witnessed many 'no time to stop' people do. It started with removing package from bag, opening and balancing box, negotiating the removal of butty without losing any filling using a napkin, unfolding your second napkin to hold it (because you have just been in contact with a contaminated bar on the tube, inevitably sneezed and coughed upon) whilst managing a stubborn, large bag in a tenuous breeze with not one litter bin in site.

EAT- Would you like a bag?

W2N2- No thanks.

The film was great, accompanied by piano from scene to scene, quite extraordinary in this day and age. Then there was my friend's Bounty. He didn't have time to buy a sarny and do 'the walk' and instead brought his street chocolate into the pictures. Could he open it? Not without the cinema poleeece hearing him. their chair creaked to it's upright position any time there was a slight crackle. This happened three times at least and sent me into a silent, uncontrollable, shoulder shrugging bout of laughter. The funniest thing of all was the guy in front of us kept receiving a pinpoint torch beam into his face and lap every time it happened. The film ended…

Friend- What are they all clapping for?

W2N2- The guy playing the piano, he's over there in the spotlight.

Friend- F*ck off! There's no bloke playing the piano! Oh, so there is…

We clapped and made our way to see Shrag.

Arnold Circus

With woolly dental floss frayed between my k9's, the day started far too early for a weekend and I'd tried everything but a coat hanger to get it out!!!! The sun was shining, the sky cloudless and the first scent of autumn was in the air. I went for a walk to East central London (E2 I think) to meet my friend for a late breakfast or brunch, br(eakfast) (L)unch.

When I got there, I realised I'd been to Leila's a year or so before following an art car-boot fair just off Prick Lane… But this time I was earlier, could get a seat and actually order more than a drink. I had a ponsy coffee to start, which was good, then eggs with Parma ham, also good, then split those with my friend's order, eggs fried with sage, which were surprisingly unbelievable. We washed the huevos down with a jug of apple juice.

Leila's, 12.30 latest, or you'll struggle for a seat… Queuing is rubbish, especially on a small street, or anywhere for that matter.

I beg your Padron!

Just ate a bag of the babies (cooked of course), and I have just had the roulette chilli… Superhot! I'm getting some more tomorrow too…

Whoop whoop! Is the sound of Fleur de lys

My penultimate night in San Francisco and I'm gonna have a blow out meal. I asked for a discreet seat in the heavily draped, intimate dining room of Fleur de Lys. I was granted my request and placed in the centre of the dining room. Okay, I thought as I sat down, feeling rather nervous, heart booming, expecting everyone to be having a good old stare…

Wife- Oh look, that man is dining alone?

Husband- He wears sneakers too.

The reality was, no one give a shit. Boris made my table and introduced me to the so called celebrity chef. Great I thought, now let's have a look at the menu… Crab salad, beef cheeks, cheese board and a flight of wine please. Plenty of surprises arrived courtesy of the chef between the courses, all good except for one little pastry, it arrived on a cling film wrapped petri style dish with seeds and other bits in it.

Boris- Careful not to pierce the film if you use your fork…

W2N2- ???????

This place was that good, I arrived at 20.30 and left at 23.05.

Prosecco biatch

The temperature was In the late 70's, I was at Scoma's seafood restaurant, Sausalito. The front of house stuck me at the bar, hoping l'd take her offer to stay there.

W2N2- I'll take a table in the restaurant or on the veranda please.
SSR- No problem sir.

I was led to a table on the veranda, bliss, I ordered a glass of Prosecco, it arrived, was cold, dry and above all, flat.

W2N2- This Prosecco is flat. Could you change it please?
SSR- No problem sir...

The Prosecco returned. Super fizzy and now even sweeter. That old chestnut I thought... I use that trick on shoots when not on vacation, a pinch of sugar, get the fizz up for a single frame. I let them know I was onto their cheap trick. They didn't care. And you know what? Neither did I, as I sat in the cooling shade, water lapping beneath me and visible in the distance was San Fracisco's skyline, connected by the Golden Gate bridge, prominant against an immense, clear blue sky. I had half a dozen clams, a small bowl of chowder and halibut fish 'n' chips, sublime.

SSR- would you like more bubbles sir?
W2N2- ??????

Grade'A' Brunch

The Amtrak echoed faintly in the distance before a largish lady jumped from a doorway.
LL- D y'all wanna free breakfast?
Judah- No thank you.
W2N2- Why Judah? That smelled real good...
Judah- Yeah, but to pay, you pray.
I didn't realise we were passing a church???
W2N2- There's only one Hail Mary I have in mind.

Sarah, Judah and I continued down N Shaver, destination, Tasty & Sons, a dedicated brunch restaurant where we met the rest of the posse. After being seated at a busy, communal table, we each ordered at least 2 or 3 dishes, which arrived fast and furious. I was slow to pick up the pace as each dish was quickly passed around. With no order, we went from savoury to sweet, sweet, savoury back to sweet etc. Frittatas, blueberry cheesecakes, chocolate potato doughnuts (strangely good), patatas bravas (con huevos), hot chocolate chip cookies, Moroccan stew (con huevos), french toast (amazing) and I forget what else. But we did go for another round of French toast for the finale, much to the waitress's amazement... Oh, and I sinned for my Bloody Hail Mary too, Mid-western by name, it arrived accompanied with a small beer, mega!

In CJs with my PJs

The mayflower was a good call, on checking out, I asked the concierge for a good tip for breakfast in the area.

MC- there's only two places nearby that do an all day breakfast. I'd recommend CJs, it's good, but a 15 minute walk.
W2N2- great, thank you maaam.

The lingo is catching on. Macys was across the way and had a sale on, I bobbed in. The staff again, ultra friendly. I enquired on some pyjamas.

W2N2- I am slightly confused. Which are and aren't in the sale?
MA- I'll scan them for you, oh they're not in the sale... I could match the sale price on the bottoms
W2N2- I'll try them on anyway.
I took another set that clearly were not in the sale, they had an American fit, slightly over sized, but good, I preferred them and took em to the counter.
MA- are these the bottoms I said I'd match?
W2N2- I should say yes at this point...
I smiled, he asked where I was from etc...
MA- That's easy! I can do that...
They rolled in at less than half price for the set before tax!!! Mega!

Now to CJs where a 4 stack of pancakes with blueberries, maple syrup and cream awaited served up by a super special waitress. The meal was large, and I had to get my Amtrack to Portland and couldn't hang around too long. I had to run wearing my back pack, no easy feat, I made it with seconds to spare, got to the ticket machine, scanned my printout, claimed my ticket, found my gate, mopped my brow and of course, the train was delayed an hour.

4th Night 4th Ave

A comfortable, curved backrest seat in Oliver's Bar on 4th & Olive. Billie Holiday sings 'Good morning heartbreak' and I am in possession of a gin Martini with a twist. A perfect evening to end an eventful day that included a mournful visit to Bruce Lee's grave on Lake View.

Feel the pintxos

I wrote this about 565 feet up in the Seattle space needle, constructed by 50 handpicked iron workers who earned $3.92 per hour. My was I high, unlike last night when I received a $30 bill for a glass of not so special Rioja and an amount of food I could of fit into a 35mm film case. Following my ill informed Seattle style pintxo selection, I was still peckish and resorted to pointing at a regular's choice. Three little buns upon a rectangle plate (one of many shapes), bursting with shredded pork. Jennine then informed me the tuna version was better and her favourite to boot.

W2N2- I don't think I saw these on the menu. What are they called?
P Jennine- Pork and tuna sliders...

Too late, I'd spent the best part of $20 dollars on carpaccio of vegetables and a Liz Hurley styled bocadillo, nothing like how they were described. Nevermind, I'll be down later to try the tuna slider, as the pork one was sooooo good.

PS. It's not really worth going up the Needle, Smiths Tower has similar views, is cheaper and better looking.

Before Bosley

Got to Seattle after waking up with a combination of lag hangover. The flight was to say the least a bit heavy... There was a mad Russian guy who was drunk demanding more beer from the stewardesses, playing one against the other, I thought he was going to threaten to chop their hands off. McCloud was waiting for him in Calgary. Game over.

I kept myself awake as much as I wanted to sleep, to be right for the next day. Bright and early the next morning, I got ready to search for the Man U game that kicked off at 09.30 American time. I was staying next door to Eddington's on 2nd Ave, which was tipped to show any requested sport on one of their many screens.

W2N2- I was told you might show the foot... soccer here.
BT- Yeah sure, Premiership? Let me check the channels for you, just a second, there you go. My names Joe. Can I get you as drink? Are you new in the neighbourhood?

I didn't get far did I? We chatted, I ordered. Then the strangest of adverts came on, welcome to America.

W2N2- Eggs Brenda please and a coffee.

The breakfast was a cross between egg Fiorentina and Benedict. It arrived and was not shy with it's presence as it sat tight on a 14 inch plate. Who the f*ck was Brenda I wondered? Maybe the name's anagrammatic? Benedict Fiorentina, I hope not!

So bad I barred myself Part II

Well... It was a Wednesday. Pissing down, and I had a day to sort loads of stuff out before embarking on an unplanned trip via Seattle. A text popped in whilst in work 'game 2nite? Have a spare'. 'yes'! Don't mind watching Tottenham and I am regarded as the high scoring mascot. We arranged to meet in a pub around Highbury and Islington. I was early and made my way down Upper Street, checked a couple of pubs and was taken by the welcoming look of the library.

I ordered a Guinness at £3.75, it came with a huge head.
W2N2- Could you top that up please?
Barfly obscured my vision momentarily, as my Guinness was wiped, topped up, scraped and rinsed. And then, a smell, it was familiar, yet somewhat out of place, I turned with my frankenpint to find a table. What was that smell? The surging odour surfed me smoothly into a seat facing the door. It was like an unwashed, rush hour gusset scuttling along on the Victoria line, rancid. Pint now settled, I went for a needed autumnal gulp, another bad smell hit my nostrils.!
W2N2- This pint doesn't smell right...
TL- Oh, that's because it's the first of the day.
W2N2- You knowingly served me the first of the day at 18.30 hours?!!!
Now, we all know what the first of the day smells like! Fish sauce! That was the first smell, what a combination, like a bad cocktail! What is it with Thai food in pub's?
TL- Do you want another?
W2N2- ????????
I left and went to The Cock after all that, not the nicest, but immediately by the station and with good Guinness too. Oh and Tottenham beat the young Boys 4-0.

V I Pigeons

People love buying into anything these days, especially if it's a crap party in a field full of tw@s. I got a free pair of tickets to such an event and thought I'd go and see a few bands, plus the opportunity to get my festival chic gear on! The Barber country manor hunters snarled in passing at floral welly brigades as bright yella, plastic framed shade wearing possies in bad hats lobbed beer. I criss crossed to performances that annoyingly overlapped, cutting through more clueless crowds that waited for a new leader and direction like starlings, then realised they had no finesse or agility. I was witnessing more of an urban pigeon existence, capable of spotting tiny crumbs from a great distance, glitching and sniffing them with a dirty, chipped beak, before clumsily descending upon them en masse.

I made a pie that morning and took some for later that day, but ate it before we even got there… It was mega! When we arrived, I bumped into a friend of mine Jay, who gave an account of a few bands he'd seen including a solo Ryder.

Jay- Watched Shaun Ryder before. It was mad, he came on stage and looked off his head. Everyone just started shouting and throwing Carling cups and beer bottles at him n stuff. He was funny as fuck though, cos he just stood there calm as fuck saying 'you're all nob'eads' and 'where's yer manners' over and over for about 2 or 3 minutes, then fucked off.

If only I'd left after 3 minutes…

One after work? Part II

13th August and a Friday, it had been a long, tenuous week, a bite to eat and a trip to the pictures was in order. C&R cafe is close to the Curzon, two birds one stone. I cut through Soho as before and hawked a penny, I swooped for it, this could be my change of fortune... Would you believe it!? The frickin thing was glued to the floor! I moved on quickly and entered C&R cafe, showed a single finger and was seated at the one and only remaining table. As before, I was the only person with a fork and spoon. It bugged me big time! You can't judge a person's chopstick skills from appearance alone can you? They could have at least set a test first.

My food arrived as the door opened and closed, reservations made using hand gestures in a Ted Rodgers fashion. The place was well busy, loyal punters waited outside for a vacant table in the drizzle. Inside, all eyes were on me, I picked my napkin off the floor for a third time. Was it the cutlery? I thought. I dreamed of demonstrating my amazing chopstick skills for a moment.

The food was interesting, I had the Nasi lemak as recommended and would have really enjoyed it except for the fork, the spoon, sitting by the over active door and above all, the staring eyes. That was when I realised, I was also sat beneath a 60 inch TV.

One after work?

One it was, un Guinness and I was off, cutting through China Town. Feeling peckish, I thought I'd check on a cafe a friend recommended. I'd looked for it once before to no avail, but remembered one alley I didn't venture, due to some 3 man blockade and a slight trickle of urine. I knew it, it was up that alley all along, just as I thought. C&R.

My friend's recommendations were Beef Rendeng, Nasi Goreng or Nasi Lemak. I went menu blind as I gazed upon the menu, panicked, then ordered Mee Goreng, grilled dumplings and a Tiger beer. Bad move. Dumplings tasted artificially smoked and the meat hard, more a dumpwürst than a dumpling. The regulars had it right I soon discovered. They were enjoying what I was supposed to order and with water. Next time…

World Cup fish n chips

A June evening, summer temporarily absent and still in need of a jacket. I want battered fish, chips, mushy peas and a cup of tea before the next World Cup fixture… Holburn and The Fryer's Delight awaited that order as I stomped my way there. I arrived, entered, sat down, ordered and I was supping my tea almost immediately. During the wait, the Portuguese proprietor pictured, taunted each sorry England supporter from order to handover of their take away tea. Or is that dinner? His confidence stemmed from a midday 7-0 drumming of Korea. Oh how different that conversation would be now…

Still, it's what makes this chippy great. Although, it can be hit or miss on a rare occasion. Good chippies are hard to find in London, well, almost anywhere. This plaice has red Formica tables and red booth style seats which make for a great nostalgic tea, a wintry scran or quick feed before embarking on a beer fuelled session. Mine arrived, a massive hit too… Go sample.

Crema versus Crema

Following the new, groovy exodus to Dalston, Time Out gave props for best coffee in London to a little place named after one of my Nana's favourite pictures, must be cool. So I went for one, it didn't take long before a half bearded man/boy with half a haircut turned up, sporting hybrid brogues and tatty striped socks… This must be the place. I was with my mate, we ordered, he had a thing called a piccolo or somat and I had the obvious latte styled, over hyped, flat white. The coffee was expensive, but it was good and they sell 250g packs of it. The food we had however, was not that much kop, we had mackerel with horse radish on chili toast for over a fiver, wilting rocket shivered to the side as it tried to support a slither of pimiento. It was ok.

W2N2- Could I buy coffee ground for a stove top please?
TWSY- What? Oh, we do beans only mate.
W2N2- Could you grind a pack for me please?
TWSU- No. Have you not got a grinder mate?
W2N2- Yes, but it's one of those with blades that hacks the beans up???
I heard they're not that good, best to have it done by one of them grinders you have there.
TWSY- Oh, sorry mate.

There's somat missing from this place. Soul?

Meanwhile, on a different day, I'm south in Brixton, it's real, and I prefer it. Rosie served up a similar pair of coffees to the other gaff, cheaper in price, but not quite as good. Although, the coffees were far more enjoyable in unpretentious surroundings. It feels genuine and honest here as you sit within an array of deli products and interesting bits and bobs, obviously collected over the years. A modest menu on the wall makes tasty reading, causing a period of indecision. I had scrambled eggs on wholemeal toast with chili jam, mega!

Vapourless!

Ash Sunday, not a trace of a plane in the rare blue sky. I saw Moore at Tate Britain and bought a perfect piece of pecan pie from there. Today was a good day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p70nS59JJVk

Broader than broad bean…

If you're ever near Shepherds Bush market, you've got to pop to Cafe 2000 for excellent, Egyptian falafel. Named by the owner's son, it was originally going to be called Millennium Cafe, but this was too long a name for the space available. I love it here, especially the chats we have whilst the falafel is being prepared, family traditions, handed down recipes, seasonality of fruit and veg, oh, and of course, football. Get down there and go full on spicy!

Dough dear!

An early Sunday again, 3 quid in my pocket and I'm on my bike, I craved caffeine… Euphorium bakery was close by and looked like it served coffee. I know… A bakery? Some time ago, I was told the staff there were pretty miserable and anticipated the worst, but the guy who served me was surprisingly jovial. So, whilst waiting for my coffee, I pondered their breads and remembered I needed fresh yeast. I asked if they had any on the premises. The jovial guy did not know and asked a sour faced girl to his left. She replied sharply, 'It is £1.70 for 200g's!' Not a bad price I thought… compared to Fresh n rip off Wild anyway. I thought I'd have enough change left from my coffee, or maybe not… The coffee arrived stone cold for £2.40, I drank up and left, as I didn't fancy the challenge of haggling for yeast with sour face, sometimes you just have to move on. Not so Upper my street.

So bad I barred myself - Part 1

The Temperance Bar in Fulham, not very good.

The bar order.

W2N2- ‘You have no Guinness? Any recommendations?'

TTB- ‘A lot of people like this.’

W2N2- ‘Which lagers are good?’

TTB- ‘A lot of people like this.’

W2N2- ‘I’ll have 3 pints of the expensive blonde beer then please, cheers’

W2N2- ‘Do you order food at the bar’?

TTB- ‘Yah mate’!

W2N2- ‘I’ll be back in a minute.'

W2N2- ‘Could I order a Club sandwich it comes with chips I think, and the burger with cheese, bacon and mushrooms please?’

TTB- ‘The Club doesn’t come with chips mate. Do you want to order them as a side? They’re £1.75.’

W2N2- ‘Yes, why not.'

TTB- ‘Dunno which burger you mean mate?? There's no description programmed into the till.’

W2N2- Do you have a menu handy? I have left mine on the table and I can’t see the burger on the boards’

TTB- ‘Nah mate.’

3 members of staff eventually took the order, stabbing the till in desperation.

W2N2- ‘Are you sure you have my order correct?’

The crowd groaned behind me.

TTB- 'Yah mate, give me your table number, that’s £17.80 Mate.’

W2N2- ‘Mate? I hate that!'

Part I - The club sandwich

Some brown edged lettuce, a few slithers of crappy bacon and what appeared to be fine shreds of chicken. Cheap, runny mayonnaise however, brought attention to the 6 chips that cost £1.75, great value! Not.

Part II - The Burger

Wrong toppings, no cheese, served with old salad and a long wait.

W2N2-’Excuse me!’

A few questions sailed through my mind again…

Why is the food crap? Yet your prices expensive? Why is your beer crap? Prices expensive? Why is the service crap? Why can’t you make the simplest of food properly?