Dukes Brew and Cue and MEATmission - The Hipster Diaries - Dec 2012

This month, I'm mostly loving the Hipster Express. The whizzy new London Overground train line delivering Camberwell casuals into the dark beating heart of hip Hoxton since, well, Sunday last..

In less than 25 minutes I can be surrounded by all the skinny jeaned architects, students and wanna be design agency head honchos I could ever possibly need. Like exotic aeroplane trips that take you from the safe and known before dropping you unprepared into new and exciting worlds, the new Gingerline has thrown me into the mean streets of Dalston, with no chance to acclimatise from Peckham's green and verdant lands.

And the reason for this unprecedented exploration? Food of course…

Now we may have been travelling to (culturally) the other side of the world, but they still have to eat in Hoxton we scoffed nervously on the tube. Don't they? We'd soon find out.

MEATmission
Day one delivered us to the new home of a former Peckham resident, possibly the equivalent of eating pizza in Shanghai, but I wanted to ease myself in to the local cuisine gently. Much has been written about the might MEAT burger-based empire (some of it by me) and as I've just promised not to write about burgers again, I won't say anything about them, other than they are as you'd expect and hope.

Once you get over the most ambitious of their spaces, a wonderfully deconsecrated Welsh Mission chapel with a Gilbert & George inspired backlit ceiling, you'll be straight into a broadly as expected MEATmenu. The burgers are there, the sides are there and the cocktails are lurking with faint menace.

Not seen before and worthy of note were the Monkey Fingers, thickly battered strips of chicken doused in a hot and vinegary sauce, like boneless buffalo wings, served with a (too) mild blue cheese sauce. We continued onto sodden white submarine rolls filled with succulent slow roast beef and gravy. This was cheap and cheerful wonder-food, tasting like the white bread you'd use to soak up the last of the gravy at a resolutely home style Sunday lunch. Hellishly unhealthy, mopping up the accompanying dish of gravy with salty skinny chips, but after a couple of cocktails truly the food of gods.


Duke's Brew & Cue
Further north, the illuminating light of the Overground has touched parts other gentrifiers couldn't reach and brought hipsters and prosperity (or possibly only hipsters) to Haggerston. I've been assured that there's more to the area than a fixie bike shop and an espresso bar but that was by a man with a handlebar 'tache leaving me dubious to say the least.

The rough wood panelling of Duke's Brew & Cue (in recent history almost certainly a much less salubrious drinking hole) surrounds a new to the location micro-brewery cum bar cum restaurant. It's like a million and one Williamsburg hangouts (Fette Sau in Brooklyn is definitely one of their inspirations) and is currently still a massive hit with the locals. Even on a rain drenched Wednesday early, early evening we only just managed to squeeze into one of the unreserved bar tables.

I've been a couple of times, once for a so-so brunch and a pretty reasonable (and gargantuan) burger, the second for ribs.. As you'd expect with a name like Brew & Cue, you're only really here for the ribs.

We split two orders of the home smoked ribs, one beef and one pork. This was seemingly what most of the place was doing so I'm unsure why they don't offer that as a menu option. Beef ribs sadly were sadly cooked too hot, too quick for me. The well flavoured meat was cut through with just too many strands of hard, unyielding fat to make it as easy as it should have been to stripmine the bone of every juicy morsel. The pork ribs were much better, coming with a lovely deep flavoured meat and nutty hard bones to gnaw.

Sides were a mixed bag too. A cheap and cheerful mac'n'cheese didn't try to compete with the richness of the ribs, complementing them perfectly with a comforting blandness, house fried pickles and okra were just bad. Reminicent of the sort of deep fried generic vegetable sides you'd get in a Harvester or a Toby Steakhouse.

The food promised so, so much. In reality, it delivered some. As a place to hang out with locals, it comes as a strong recommendation. The bar staff were also excellent, though the servers a little harried. The cocktails are great and the brews on tap are also well recommended, strong, punchy and self assured. It's a shame that the kitchen doesn't quite live up to it.

 The roof of MEATmission... try looking at that after too many Peckham Negronis...

    A very bad shot of some ribs... blow it, you know what ribs look like...

The Albion Cafe at the Boundary - Feb 2012

 After spending his career building up the chain of upmarket eponymous stores and restaurants that brought (relatively) affordable design to London, you'd forgive Sir Terence if he wanted to kick back in his favourite Eames lounge chair, puff on a trademark cigar and enjoy his retirement. The fact that he doesn't is testament to what must be an absurdly driven personality. This isn't someone you'd want to play Scrabble against. 

The Boundary feels like a successful attempt to present a flagship project exactly as he wants it with elements taken from across his varied career. It's a Victoria sandwich of a place featuring a swanky design hotel sandwiched between a lean cut basement restaurant and a rooftop bar cum BBQ, the latter ideal for Sir Tel's cheeky post dinner stogie. On the ground floor, tall post-industrial windows open onto the regenerated street scene (it's hard to be too edgy when you're opposite Shoreditch House) and there's a bakery, deli (with local goods for local people) and open plan kitchen with a diner. Come the zombie apocalypse, I'm barricading the windows and hunkering down here - assuming you can spot the difference early enough in the vacant asinine Sho'ho hipsters that crowd the streets outside.

The deli upfront is a twee affair, like a picture perfect village shop that's had a makeover from, well, someone like Sir Terrence Conran. Laid back brunch / lunch / dinner are all served in that ground floor diner. One recent visit delivered porridge with sticky damson jam from the deli, another gave me phenomenal bacon, served on thick slices of fresh white bloomer straight out of the twittering bread oven (follow @albionsoven if you want to know what's coming out next). The predictably golden yolked eggs that came perfectly poached with it were, less predictably, almost entirely tasteless however.

I like the Albion Cafe. It's got more than a whiff of pretentiousness, but does some good food, with a decent level of service and appears to know exactly what it is. Well worth popping in for breakfast or brunch if you're in the area.

                                           

Song Que - souper Kingsland Road canteen - Aug 2011

Where: Song Que, Shoreditch
With who: Dr Vole, The Ginger Prince and the Ginger Coconut Candy
How much: With a large beer each we got out on just over £50 for the four of us... the bowls of trademark Pho are £7.50 and you'll really struggle to spend more than £15 a head.
Come here if: you need to detox with a fresh bowl of spicy beef noodle soup.


A unique skill is needed to be a silver service waiter. The finesse comes with the ability to get plates of elegantly presented food to, and finished plates from, a customer in as organised a fashion as possible. The reveal adds to the art, plates delivered and removed with the bare minimum of fuss and if you ever watch an exponent of the art, he or she can clear your table effortlessly, any detritus at the end of the meal less than a hiccup in their perfect plan for your dining. The team at Song Que would, I suspect, laugh at this description of the role of a waiter. Here there really is only one aim, to get you through as quick as possible to make room for the next party already huddled round the entrance. No reservations taken and no quarter given. Get in, order, eat and get out...


A large, high ceilinged space, clean, perfunctory and sparsely decorated with the sort of geometric, clashing, faux leather backed chairs you'd find in an Essex boys dining room in the 80's. There's a large painting on one wall, it might be of a village in Vietnam, local to the owner, it might equally be from nearby Broadway market, the design isn't the point here. There are nods to the 'proper' way to do a restaurant, an attempt at an unused back bar for example. A random bottle of Baileys sits on the shelf, disconsolately explaining to a neighbouring dusty Malibu that the vast majority of the punters will be going straight for one of the many different fresh juices, or the imported delights of Hue or Saigon, crisp Vietnamese lagers that cut through the spice to follow.



With the service being so speedy, you'll be pleased to know the preparation is very much planned in advance. Of all the dishes Vietnamese cuisine is known for my favourite is the humblest, a bowl of Pho done well has few equals. Light beef stock simmered for hours with a blend of spices including fennel, coriander and star anise (there's a good recipe here if you're looking to cook at home) before the meats are dumped in at the last minute, bean sprouts and aromatics left to be added tableside. It's the speciality at Song Que, with nearly 30 variants, and after a selection of starters, a keenly priced bowl filled with noodles, that broth, melting thin sliced steak and a scattering of tripe and tendon (worth it, and so soft here) is enough for most people. There's such a depth of flavour in the stock that you're not going to want to season with the obligatory Sriracha hot sauce, but I tend to dip the strips of beef and tripe in to a side pot, but then I'm a chilli hound. 


Coming back to the starters, a few are worthwhile and interesting, though the Pho really is the thing. (If you want a selection of authentic and delicious Vietnamese starters to build a meal around then nearby Viet Grill is possibly a better option.) We went for their standout grilled beef in betel leaves, the soft and juicy little packages sweetly moreish, fried spring rolls, softshell crab and squid (the latter a little too batter coated for me, though it went swiftly enough). 


While it's not somewhere for a date, the sight of you licking Pho from your chin is enough to put off all but the most ardent admirers, it's one of the better places for a ribsticking pre or post session bite or a swift lunch along the Kingsland Road.

 

The Corner Room at Bethnal Green Town Hall - July 2011

Sometimes getting to the place is half the fun... Nuno Mendez (he of Viajante and the Loft Project) brings you The Corner Room. A proper unmarked, no entrance, n information New York speakeasy of a restaurant hidden in a boutique hotel in Bethnal Green. Finding it is like playing hipster hide and seek.

When you eventually guide your way through the too cool for signage, Wallpaper* fetishising hotel front of house that hosts the chic little bistro and breakfast room (if you can even guess the name of the hotel I'll be impressed) you arrive, weary and a little fecked off from the effort in a dainty white, light, tiled space, carved out of the surrounding institutional marble like a Habitat styled hobbit hole. Despite the eulogising that surrounds stablemate Viajante, the Corner Room is currently unmarked territory, certainly we had no problems with a 2 for 7, but it did fill rapidly and there's no booking. Get there early because let's face it, you're unlikely to be just passing.

Starters come in around £6 and most mains are £12. Seasonal and interesting, a baby brother of the more studied El Bulli school influenced food artistry next door, I could have gone for any combination. You'll have to pop in and check the menu as they've got no phone number and no details on the website. I eyed up a wonderful dish of heritage (read weird coloured and shaped) tomatoes with mozzarella and what looked unseasonably like asparagus (caveat, was paying attention to my companion's conversation, may not have been asparagus)

Judging by some of the more rabidly positive comments posted online already, one of the house hits looks to be a wonderfully balanced squid dish, meltingly tender tubes served with Jersey Royal potatoes, seaweed and samphire sitting on a slick of squid ink and a glorious fennel infused oil. It makes the other starter, a ceviche of stone bass, seem slightly muted. A good wedge of firm white fish, but none of the scattered oils and 'erbs really cut through with any conviction.

It was a main of two halves too (slightly). Turbot poached with artichoke and pancetta was pleasant enough, it didn't set my world alight, but anywhere else would have been a solid thumbs up. Next to a slow cooked and pink centred lozenge of pork served with a Portuguese bread pudding it very much drifted into second place. The herby sponge is baked with red pepper before being fried in butter, a crisp fluffy smack of taste against the soft pork flesh.

We didn't have time for any of the desserts available for a fiver at the bottom of the menu but did sample an excellent grassy fresh Portugeuse Vinho Verde from a short but functional wine list with prices hovering around the late 20's. It feels a lot like Angela Hartnett's, similarly excellent, Whitechapel Gallery Dining Rooms, itself a diffusion range from a chart topping talent capable of filling the intimate space many times over. If I lived close enough to either, I'd be there weekly.

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The search for spice continues, Viet Grill - Feb 2011

Where: Viet Grill, Shoreditch

Sometimes you need more than a roast dinner on a Sunday... I've spent most of February dreary craving the clean spicy notes of South East Asian cuisine. Partly because I've been a bit ill, partly due to a (slightly unusual) craving for healthier food and mainly because when done really well it's bloody lovely. All things considered then, it was inevitable I was going to end up on the bottom end of Kingsland Road at some point. Home to a concentrated community of Vietnamese expats along with the shops and particularly the restaurants that support them. For me, I've had some great times at Song Que, abrupt perfunctory service and canteen style decor aside. One of the other gems on the street is the Viet Grill, sister to popular Cay Tre in Old Street. There are another 4 or 5 that I've been recommended to over time too, it's almost enough to make you hug a hipster and spend more time in the East End.

It's more designed than many of the cheaper cafe options along the road, fishtanks built into the walls upstairs and down, a well designed bar area and rather garish wallpaper. The tables are plain dark wood, bottles of chilli sauce stood waiting, kept clean by constant turnover. Don't get me wrong, it's not as canteen-like as Song Que, but it's definitely not somewhere you can linger over a coffee.
We went for the Cà tím nướng and the Phở cuốn to start (all of the menu items have the original Vietnamese authentically written alongside, though you won't hear many of the slim jeaned trendies who mainly fill the place these days parlaying the tiếng Việt). In translation, a silken steaming pile of slowly braised aromatic aubergine topped with spicy, caramelised minced pork and thin noodle wraps with strips of beef steak and herbs. The porky aubergine was revelatory. One of the tastiest things I've eaten this year so far.

Our mains were more of a mixed call, though more of choice and judgement than quality of the food. Dr Vole went for the Pho. Hot, spicy and packed full of rice noodles and fragrant broth, it's the dish that keeps going. I went for the Tamworth pork belly, served in a caramelised coconut juice with a side of jasmine rice. Pleasant enough, with the subtle more-ish heat of star anise and a chilli kick in the coconut juice, the texture wasn't doing it for me. Fat braised down, skin of gelatine, maybe it's my expectation of pork belly. One or two of the quivering cubes served with a crunchy salad and side (some of the veg percolating in the pho would have done the trick), but as it was, it was a lonely single texture, and rather a lot of it. one to be avoided unless you're dining with a group.

Worth a note that there's a pre-six o'clock and lunch menu, great value at £6 for a large bowl of pho. That being said, a small bowl will do most people, and free you up for other choices on a menu of spicy delight.

The Book Club - Oct 2010

Where: The Book Club, Shoreditch
With who: The Ginger Prince 
How much: A neat, slightly clever breakfast / brunch menu (baked beans on toast make a tongue in cheek appearance), a slightly schizophrenic lunch and dinner service backing up some great cocktails and a good wine list. small plates for £3.50/£5, big (and I mean big) plates for less than a tenner. Very good value...


It's not clever to mock the afflicted. So I'll say little about the slightly too cool for school denizens of Shoreditch and Hoxton. Besides, The Ginger Prince and I had gone to an event hosted at The Book Club on Leonard Street and floppy haired kooks and early twenties hipsters come with the territory. The event was fun, if a little worthy, but I like what they're doing with the place. It hosts events (they have a regular menu from poetry and philosophy to music and networking) most nights in a downstairs basement, tricked out as a Shoreditch standard, bare brick walls, exposed pipes and graffiti stickers. Upstairs is similar, with the addition of hipster art prints, posters for forthcoming rockabilly nights and a ping pong table. Chairs as stolen from local church halls and your grandmother's parlour.
That slight derision aside, I have to say I like it. I've been there a few times during the day for meetings and the space always feel welcoming. The big windows let the light stream in, it's comfortable and the slightly scatty staff get it right more often than not. For such a casual place, more bar than restaurant, they run a lot on their menu, and this is one of the few problems. It feels a little too try-hard. The lunch menu (served all afternoon) rolls from rustic soups and jacket potatoes to chicken schnitzel and monkfish. It all looks good, and there's not much you wouldn't want to eat, but I wouldn't try to construct a meal out of it. 
Dinner gives you a selection of light (or not so light) plates. The Ginger Prince and I went for way too much without realising it. A plate of Muchos Nachos was indeed muchos, though the nachos themselves were homemade, feathery light and buttery sweet. The topping was adequate and for a tenner, a very good plate to share between two or three. The one that killed us was the duck rillette, it wasn't the half loaf of sourdough, or the large pot of homemade piccillili; sweet and crunchy with a snap of mustard, it was the soup bowl, mounded (way too) high with the subtly seasoned and gamey rillette. It wasn't the best I've had, the meat was a little too dry and the seasoning a little too subtle (with no other notes to cut through the rich meat), but it was huge. We got barely half way through the portion before admitting defeat. Half the size, twice the spice should be the chef's aim.