How quickly things change in Hackney. When I went to review the newly opened Foxlow on Stoke Newington Church Street, I was surprised to find that the second branch of this “neighbourhood restaurant” (also operating in Clerkenwell), had taken over the premises formerly occupied by Italian restaurant and brunch place Homa.
“It is with great sadness and regret that we today announce that Homa will stop trading…” Homa’s website reads in a post from February.
“We started our little venture in 2009 because as longstanding local residents we loved our vibrant Stokey community deeply and could think of no better place to set up our restaurant… We will, of course, continue to be involved as local residents.” I asked Foxlow’s manager if he knew what had happened. “Too bad?” he said with a shrug, pulling back a chair.
And how could he be expected to know? Many long-term residents, however, will remember that before Homa, this was where the threadbare Booth’s pizzeria and bar served up meal deals to sozzled locals playing pool, before they went on to Maggie’s bar. Each change here has wrought a more exclusive successor, with better food.
This is not to say that Foxlow, run by the owners of the hugely successful Hawksmoor chain, isn’t going to be a huge success, or that it doesn’t deserve to be. The ambience is lively, the menu is a fun (and very meaty) take on the American steakhouse, and the prices, while certainly more expensive than Homa, are obviously within grasp of the locals, given that every last table was full.
I started with a pleasing Hawksmoor special cocktail of gin and London Pride recommended by my server, and we nibbled on anchovy and goat’s butter crostini before diving headlong into the indulgent menu: housemade pork and beef rillettes, squid, steak with béarnaise, 10 hour short rib with kimchi, fries covered in deep fried chicken fat, beans with shallots, all rounded off with some indulgent puddings for good measure.
All the food was excellent, with the buttery, tender steak being the highlight. Both the ‘chicken salt’ on the fries and the soft serve for pudding were nods to working class American food, one of the most annoying food trends of recent years, but while the former seemed excessive, the soft serve was divine.
The wine menu was extensive and had a couple of decent options that came in at under £25, but if you, like us, don’t show any restraint when it comes to ordering, a meal for two could easily run up a bill of £150 plus service. For more cautious spenders, the brunch or roast may be a better option, with meals hovering around a tenner and a £14 bottomless Bloody Mary. Considering this, I remembered that I used to only have brunch at Homa for that very reason. Perhaps the one constant in the Hackney restaurant scene is that brunch is the most affordable time to eat out.
Unlike the reputation of its politicised proprietor, Trew Era café is inconspicuous. Nestled between a barber and a printing shop, it’s easy to miss. Russell Brand’s venture – a potentially awkward coalition of coffee and community action – is located just metres away from the New Era Estate in Hackney, whose residents recently fought off eviction, arm in arm with Mr Brand himself.
This particular arm of Brand’s ‘Revolution’ is a non-profit social enterprise, funded by proceeds from his book and run by people in abstinence-based recovery from addiction. At its opening, Brand announced: “Politics is dead, this is the end of politics. What we are discussing now is what comes after… and it will start with small enterprises such as this, which put the power where it belongs – with people.” Cue eye-rolling from those who don’t believe Russell Brand to be the arbiter of societal sea change.
And yet call me an undiscerning apologist, but I think it’s nice. It feels sincere, warm even; a far cry from popular complaints about Brand’s apparently shaky integrity and narcissism. Granted, the seating is coolly uncomfortable and the décor ‘stripped down’ chic, but it is certainly the only coffee shop I’ve been to in Hackney that isn’t almost exclusively frequented by MacBook-toting white people.
Indeed, New Era resident Ann Taylor proclaimed at the opening: “This will be our meeting place.” And she wasn’t lying. Every time I have been to Trew Era, something remarkable happens – strangers talk to each other. During my last visit, I ended up abandoning my emails in favour of a rather heart-warming conversation with an 80-something woman waiting for a Dial-A-Ride taxi and a couple of long-serving primary school teachers. Amongst all the talking and activist posters, it actually feels like there’s such thing as community.
The coffee and sandwiches are arguably secondary in the midst of revolutionary ambitions. Nevertheless, as they say, the revolution will be fuelled by flat whites and toasted sandwiches. There is breakfast food aplenty and cakes made by locals. The main menu changes often, depending on who’s working and is locally-sourced, organic and vegetarian. Recently there has been a vegan chilli and various vegetable soups. There are also appropriately healthy juices, including one called Chai Coff Ski. The prices are reasonable (as they should be). As a benchmark, a latte is £1.80.
Everything that I’ve tried is tasty, though you get the feeling that if you wanted something completely different, that’d be fine too. If this café is to be the headquarters of a post-politics, people’s revolution, you’d better show your face. If not, it’s definitely worth a visit anyway. You don’t even have to meet Russell Brand. But you might; I did, and he bought me a coffee.
There’s a buzz around Korean food in London today. Although the hub of Korean life is still in New Malden, a long way to the south west, we can spare ourselves the somewhat arduous journey, and explore local sources of this delicious food, influenced in some ways by China and Japan, but with a joyful identity of its own. Oriental stores stock the basic ingredients, and a visit to Yu Xiao in Kingsland Road, or the Longdan supermarket in Hackney will yield freshly made kimchi, some take-away items, and many of the strange and wonderful fish and plants that you need in order to try Korean food at home.
But since the cuisine depends so much on an assortment of different dishes that take quite a time to put together, it is a good idea to eat out to experience the delights of the full range. Hackney has a small, busy and friendly place in Shoreditch, On the Bab, and up the road in Finsbury Park is the legendary Dotori, a crowded little Japanese-Korean restaurant with a huge following, a contrast to the wide open spaces of Bibigo at the Angel, while Hurwundeki on Cambridge Heath Road offers a haircut as well.
Potted history
In spite of a long history of friendly and unfriendly contact with some of its neighbours (and the recent, unhappy division of the country), Korea has a strong sense of its individuality, with history, geography and various religious influences all shaping a vibrant and varied gastronomy.
You can see this all summed up in the pottery: not the (boring) elitist collectors’ pieces of greeny grey celadon or ghostly white porcelain or even the less posh buncheong stone-ware, but in the glorious range of everyday black-brown glazed onggi storage jars. They contain the country’s past and maybe its future – literally, for within these beautifully crafted forms lurk the essential elements of Korean cuisine. The jars and pots come in all sizes and various shapes, and until a few decades ago every household, in what was then a mainly rural society, would have an array of them clustered outside on terraces or rooftops. They held grains, especially rice, and water, wine, oil, vinegar and the defining condiments that enhance Korean food: soy sauce, brown soybean paste (denjang), fermented red chilli paste (gochu jang), and above all different kinds of kimchi: (salted and fermented vegetables with various flavourings, especially garlic and chilli). The beauty of these pastes is in their sweet, rich, dense flavour, not the amount of chilli in them. Never forget that chillies are enjoyed for flavour and not the macho impact of heat.
Kimchi
Kimchi evolved because things did not grow during the harsh winters, so preserving vegetables and fish was an essential domestic skill. This unique process, salting and fermenting, produces over 200 different kinds of kimchi, free of the harsh acidity of most European pickles. Every family had its own version. The fermentation process did not just make the stuff keep, it actually produced added nutrients, vitamins and minerals that make Korean food some of the healthiest on the planet. Kimchi has a clean, fresh-tasting zing and crunchiness. Different kinds can be served as side dishes, or it can be added to soups and stews.
The craftsmen who made the kimchi containers were socially inferior, their skills taken for granted, but every Korean family owned a range of their pots that survived generations of use, and the sensitivity and talent that went into their manufacture can perhaps now be seen in the cutting edge skills of modern Korean technology in other fields. The pots are now collected and treasured in museums, but also used for their original purposes. The Korean soul and genius is in these unique artefacts, the pots and what they contain, and eating the food is to enter into a world of innovation and tradition, of past history and a new future.
Korean meals
Another magic ingredient is Korean sesame oil. It works best as a condiment, sprinkled over a finished dish just before serving, or dribbled onto a salad, along with a few drops of Vietnamese fish sauce, transforming a banal mixture of lettuce, avocado and spring onions into an exotic treat. I don’t know what they do to make it so delicious, but there is no substitute. Seaweed gives flavour and texture, from slithery to crisp, and a big blast of umami. And tofu adds extra goodness.
A Korean meal might consist of rice, soup, stews, dumplings, pancakes and a lot of differently flavoured side dishes, something to eat out. But you can give your home cooking a Korean tinge by using the two densely flavoured pastes in fish and meat dishes, in soups and stews, and mixed with soy sauce, sugar and fish sauce to make dipping sauces and relishes.
Here are a few Korean-inspired recipes to try out at home:
Bibimbap
The endearingly named bibimbab or pibim bap has become an iconic Korean speciality. It began as a peasant dish, when a frugal bowl of rice had to be eked out with any raw or cooked vegetables and herbs that could be got hold of for free. Now it has become restaurant performance art, with the cooked rice brought to table in an almost red-hot iron bowl (together with the necessary health warning) sizzling and hissing as the other ingredients are stirred in, while the rice sticks to the bottom, forming a delicious crust. Ingredients can be luxurious (thin slices of beef, seafood) or simply sautéed vegetables, chopped kimchi, mushrooms, a sprinkling of dried seaweed, sometimes topped with a raw or fried egg, and of course the red chilli paste. It gets its name from bab or bap, a word meaning a dish of cooked rice. And that is exactly what this is: a recipe to do at home, using cooked rice and plenty of fresh and preserved stuff to give contrasting texture and flavour.
1 bowl of cooked rice per person
An assortment of things such as: sautéed shitake mushrooms, thinly sliced rump steak, an egg, raw or fried, thinly sliced crisp lettuce, Korean radish kimchi, raw bean sprouts, rinsed and dried, matchstick courgettes, raw or stir fried, chopped herbs (basil, coriander, mint).
Marinated Chicken
Chicken breasts and thighs
cut into pieces
Marinade: finely chopped ginger, garlic, spring onion, fresh green chilli,
soy sauce, sesame oil, a teaspoon of red chilli paste, a pinch of sugar,
all mixed together.
Rub the marinade into the chicken pieces and leave for an hour. Then put everything in a shallow pan with a little water and cook slowly until done, about 45 minutes, when the liquid should have evaporated. Taste for seasoning and add more chilli paste if you think it needs it. Serve sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds and a few drops of sesame oil and some rice and kimchi on the side.
Seaweed and Shellfish Soup
This is traditionally made with miyeok seaweed and oysters, and given as a restorative to women who have just given birth, three times a day for seven weeks! You do not have to suffer though to enjoy a version of this, and the iron, calcium and vitamins in the seaweed will do you lots of good. There is a legend that the Samsin Grandmother, a folk goddess, caused the blue marks on the buttocks of Korean babies by hastening them into this world with a good slap, and so is offered this nourishing brew in gratitude.
1 cup of dried miyeok (wakame) seaweed, soaked in cold water for half an hour
½ kilo each of mussels, clams, uncooked jumbo prawns
2 cloves of garlic roughly chopped
Vietnamese fish sauce
Sesame oil
Cook the shellfish separately, covered, with the garlic and strain off the liquid, filtering it through muslin to keep out any sand or shell. Take the flesh out of the shells and put to one side. Tear the soaked seaweed into pieces and cook in water until soft and a nice dark green. Then add the shellfish, their juices, and season with sesame oil and fish sauce. Serve hot.
Som Saa, a Thai pop-up off of London Fields, cooks out of a shipping container for 30-odd covers at a time. This simple setup, accompanied by a wood-fired grill, serves a changing menu of ‘street food’ from Northern Thailand, dishes that rarely grace a London menu.
Since opening in winter word has travelled, and when we showed up for dinner at 6pm on the dot on a Sunday afternoon, a long queue had already formed. “It’s not too bad,” the door manager said apologetically when he took our names, “about an hour and a half or so”.
London is arguably the most international city in the world, but it remains challenging to find a Thai menu that isn’t an unholy mishmash of pan-Asian hits: green curry, vegetable tempura. Growing up in Southeast Asia, I was fortunate enough to be exposed to authentic Thai cuisine, and I miss the sheer variety of dishes, such as steamed lady fingers dipped into a spicy shrimp paste, deep-fried pomfret and olive fried rice. When the most inventive Thai available locally appears to be Alan Yau’s chain Busaba, there is a gap in the market.
There are no noodles or green curry on Som Saa’s menu, and the food ranges from good to sublime. The most familiar dish, green papaya salad, is studded with chillis, as it should be. Highlights are the grilled octopus salad, with cubes of meaty, fresh octopus that taste of wood smoke; and smoked aubergine with prawn floss. My dining companion delighted in the comforting pork belly curry as well as the fried whole sea bass covered in fresh herbs, perfect with our sticky rice. We finished off our meal with a palm sugar ice cream that was elegant and decadent. There’s also an interesting variety of bar snacks to see you through the wait for a table.
With its £7.50 glasses of Riesling, DJ sets, and plastic cups, Som Saa certainly has a whiff of its trendy American counterpart, Pok Pok, where a young Western chef, armed with nothing but a dream, a barbecue and a marketing plan, went on to build a small empire around Thai ‘street food’ and signature chicken wings.
There’s very little here that is reminiscent of Thailand in the dining room or the clientele and, at £30 a head or so with drinks, I can’t afford to make this a regular haunt. But this is undoubtedly the best Thai food I’ve had in the 10 years I’ve lived in England, and my dining companion solemnly said it was the best he’d ever had. So until something else pops up to compete, Som Saa is certainly a most welcome newcomer.
An East London bakery is helping women affected by issues such as homelessness, poverty, prostitution and domestic violence turn their lives around.
Trainees at the Luminary Bakery meet up three times a week at Husk Coffee in Limehouse, where they are taught to bake everything from cupcakes to loaves.
Luminary gives the women a route back into work through six-month traineeships that equip them with practical skills, and encourage them to be ambitious and entrepreneurial.
Alice Boyle, Luminary Baker founder, said: “We had a team of passionate bakers and a cafe on Brick Lane [Kahaila café] we could stock with products, so [baking] was a logical choice but also one that has therapeutic benefits – there’s nothing like taking your frustrations out on some dough!”
The 26-year-old explained that the programme opens doors to women who find themselves homeless, sexually exploited, a victim of domestic violence or have come out of prison. The project aims to break the cycle and help the women reach their full potential.
One trainee, Jordan May, 22, said: “I have recently found myself homeless and am currently in temporary accommodation. I was diagnosed with a brain tumour when I was eight and therefore have many day-to-day difficulties and take daily medication.”
She added: “I always look forward to Thursdays because I know it’s going to be a fun, motivational day where I can relax and do what I love – baking.”
Flour power: A trainee at work. Photograph: Adam Cash
Jordan believes her traineeship at Luminary has made her believe she can take up baking as a career and start her own business.
“I plan to get some professional help regarding my own bakery from the ladies at Luminary and hope to start planning for it soon”, she said.
Alice explains the charity is only able to fund one of four applicants: “Being a charity we are constantly in need of funding.
“We aim to be generous, providing free lunch and travel and allowing them to take the products they bake home – but ingredients and resources cost money.”
For Jordan, taking home baked goods can lead to family squabbles over who gets to eat them, but added: “I found the baking to be very relaxing and therapeutic for me and helps me to believe that I can do something well.”
The next tier on the Luminary Bakery cake is a new property in Stoke Newington, where the first year’s rent has been donated. This summer will see the team training double the amount of women – which hopefully will mean double the amount of delicious baked snacks.
Gillian Riley gets to grips with a Mexican tortilla press. Photograph: Annalies Winny
Mexicans the world over are recovering from the festivities of Cinco de Mayo, a celebration of the ignominious defeat of an invading French army on 5 May 1862.
At a gloomy point in Mexico’s history, when confusing internal politics and the threat of invasion created dread and despair, a small band of largely untrained men under General Zaragoza defeated the much larger French army at Puebla de
Los Angeles.
This is a good thing to celebrate, and Hackney too can mark this first brave gesture towards Mexican independence.
Fusion food
We can enjoy the world famous dish Mole Poblano de Guajalote (Turkey in a Chilli sauce), which is said to have been invented in Puebla de Los Angeles in the 17th century.
Perhaps the first ever fusion recipe, it combines native Mexican ingredients (chillies, chocolate, tomatoes, maize), with things brought over by the Spanish conquerors (nuts, spices, some fruits). Legend says that the Mother Superior of the Convent of Santa Rosa created this symbolic mix of ingredients to honour the Archbishop who founded the convent. Chocolate, a sacred substance for the Aztec rulers, was a numinous addition to a dish already fraught with symbolism.
The recipe we put together for our fiesta uses chicken instead of turkey, and is a pragmatic version of this great national dish, based on Diana Kennedy’s book The Cuisines of Mexico. London bars and eateries offer burritos and tacos and dazzling cocktails, but traditional festive family cooking is harder to find. So go home, Hackney citizens, put on your pinnies and get to work!
Fiesta time
First of all do a shop in the Wholefoods Market in Stoke Newington Church Street, then browse online for goodies from the Cool Chilli Company, and get some nice free range chicken from Meat 16 or Ginger Pig. We have learned the hard way that frozen or pre-cooked tortillas are disappointing, commercial guacamole expensive for what it is, that a home-made salsa has more zip, but also where and how to cheat and what substitutes we can get away with.
Thus after hours of absorbing and exhilarating toil, I sat down with friends to enjoy a Mexican feast. As well as the mole, there were homemade tortillas and guacamole, with shop-bought salsa verde de tomatillas, tortilla chips, salsa de chipotle and a freshly made salsa of chopped fresh tomatoes, green and red chillies, fresh coriander, salt and garlic. There was a bowl of crème fraîche and plenty of tequila and Mexican beer too.
A Mexican tortilla is a kind of flat-bread made with masa harina, a maize flour that has been ground from corn kernels treated with alkali (lime or ashes) to soften and discard the tough outer skin of the kernels. The chemical effect of this, a process known as nixtamalisation, does wondrous things to the nutritional properties of the masa, creating niacin, amino acids and extra protein and vitamins.
Mexican peasants in the past had a cheap, healthy and balanced diet eating these tortillas with beans, chillies and tomatoes, with little if any meat. They survived and flourished. But when maize got to Europe, and was cultivated all over northern Italy, its paucity of nutrients caused deficiency diseases like pellagra on a huge scale, with resultant social and economic misery. No fear of that in Hackney.
We made batch upon batch of tortillas with masa harina from the Cool Chili Co, available at Wholefoods, who also produce ready made tortillas spewed forth from a massive machine known affectionately as el monstruo.
Tortilla-tastic
One of the joys of a freshly made tortilla is its fragrant aroma, which enhances the things you roll up in it, adding an extra dimension to the already pungent food. The pliable softness of a nicely cooked tortilla adds a tactile pleasure to the business of eating. You reach for more, you call out for more, and with a little help from my guests and some basic technology, more kept on coming. We used two comals and a tortilla press.
The press is like a miniature Adana printing press, two hinged round plates with a lever handle to bring one down firmly on top of the other. We used this to flatten small balls of the masa, mixed with water to a firm dough, between sheets of tough plastic. The flattened dough was then deftly transferred to a very hot comal, a flat metal plate heated on the gas cooker, where it sits for a minute or so as it firms up and browns slightly in patches, then is flipped over and given a few more minutes, before flipping again to finish off.
Trial and error got me through my first batch ever, over half a century ago, so the blunders and tears are forgotten, the main lesson being to keep on trying until you get it right.
Mole madness
This is nothing to what we went through to make the mole. The chicken was browned in a little oil and cooked until almost done in good home-made chicken broth. Meanwhile the chillies needed attention: ancho, mulato, pasilla, are what I used, dried red or deep brown chillies, some wrinkled, which are first softened on the hot comal, then deseeded and torn in pieces and soaked in hot water for an hour or so. Meanwhile the spices needed toasting in a dry pan, the sesame seeds and pumpkin seeds (pepitas) toasted separately on a comal, taking care not to scorch them.
The spices when cool were pulverised, the nuts and seeds ground to a coarse powder and the by now softened chillies pureed in a food processor. The chilli paste was then fried to enhance the flavour and get rid of the rawness, then thinned out with some broth from the chicken, the spices and seeds were tossed in, and the sauce cooked until nice and thick. The final touch was to add the magic ingredient – chocolate, in small bits, tasting as you go; this is to enhance the deep dark flavour, and should always be subliminal … if it tastes of chocolate you have got it wrong.
Add the chicken to this heady brew, heat through and serve with a sprinkling of toasted sesame seeds. All this takes time and energy and imagination, but is so absorbing that getting the meal together is as much fun as eating it. Of all the cuisines on offer in Hackney, Mexican is the one you just have to do at home.
Guac attack
Guacamole made in a food processor comes out much too smooth and bland. I always use an Indonesian granite pestle and mortar borrowed decades ago from a generous Dutch friend who resigned herself to its loss.
To make guacamole you first crush coarse salt and garlic with coriander leaves (the tough stems discarded) to make a dense dark green paste, then add peeled, stoned and coarsely chopped avocados and pound (but not too much), so that the texture is variable. Then stir in some finely chopped hot chilli to taste and some coarsely chopped tomatoes. Pile into a bowl and decorate with
coriander leaves.
A homemade salsa is best done with a sharp knife and a chopping board, avoiding the homogenous mush you get with a food processor. Take tasty tomatoes, garlic, spring onions and coriander and chop each separately very finely, stir together and add heat from finely sliced chillies, then salt to taste.
Having wallowed in the tactile and olfactory pleasures of getting these simple dishes together, we now have to admit that a creative cheat can get good results from Cool Chili Company products and a variety of beans, pastes and relishes from other suppliers. A spot check in local shops reveals the unseen presence of enough dedicated Mexican cooks in Hackney to restock the shelves every week. I for one would love to hear of their exploits.
Ready to shake off the torpor of winter with the cool hiss of a pisco sour and zingy platefuls of ceviche? Then look no further than Martin Morales’ latest East End restaurant as he continues to pioneer his native Peruvian cuisine in the city.
Located in the old Alexandra Trust Dining Rooms, opened during Queen Victoria’s reign, the menu pulls together the Criollo, Chifa and Nikkei influences of Peruvian food with playful tributes to its surroundings.
Highlights include the sublime scotch egg-like huevo criollo – a runny golden yolker rolled in a crunchy shell of quinoa and black pudding-like sangrecita sausage. There’s also a nod to an East End classic with jalea de anguila – a beautiful plate of crispy fried eel and seabass belly with chilli tartare sauce and salsa criolla.
Overall, the menu caters deftly for both the ardent Peruvian cooking fan and patrons that aren’t yet up to fried lamb brains and barbecued chicken hearts (both delicious incidentally). Safer options include the steak with a fried egg, plantain, beans and cured pork – or the classic pollo a la brasa rotisserie chicken with chips and amarillo chilli, one of the core flavours of Peruvian food.
Ceviche, unsurprisingly, is the signature dish and we picked a beautiful plate of silky tuna slices with tiny emerald green roquito peppers that burst open in your mouth and radish-like daiko. The crispy vermicelli on top didn’t really add anything, but nor did it detract from the plate.
Dishes arrive as small plates and they recommend three to four, which is probably on the generous side given the state we waddled out in, but with so many good things to choose from over-ordering is no bad thing.
Arguably the beauty of Peruvian food isn’t about complicated techniques, it’s about matching high quality, fresh, flavours and textures and my favourite dish was also one of the simplest – crispy twists of marinated beef heart skewers in hot sauce from the big open charcoal grill, a hat tip to Lima street food. Also don’t leave without trying the pumpkin picarones (doughnuts) with honey and cinnamon that proved a hit at Andina.
With lusty Latin American beats playing over a packed 130-cover space, frothy pisco pouring by the pint load and splashes of bright contemporary Peruvian art for sale on the walls, it’s a big and busy place for brunch, lunch, dinner and take-out.
Ceviche Old Street 2 Baldwin Street Old Street, EC1V 9NU cevicheuk.com/oldst
The restaurant business is famously hard, particularly in London where rents and competition have become such juggernauts. Hackney’s low rents used to allow young or inexperienced entrepreneurs some room for error and experimentation, which is why some much loved local businesses such as the E5 Bakehouse, Passing Clouds or the now defunct Railroad Cafe seemed to be borne less out of a solid business plan than a narrow and determined vision to deliver something unique.
It’s easy to wax nostalgic about the past, however, and Hackney’s food scene is undoubtedly superior now. Some new arrivals are welcome additions, and one such place is Little Baobab, a new Senegalese restaurant and music venue that has opened up in the premises on Lower Clapton Road where Candela used to operate, before it disappeared without a sound.
Little Baobab feels like the sort of venture that was popping up every day in Hackney a few years ago. Run by chef Khadim and musician Abdoulaye Sam, two friends originally from Dakar, Senegal, the restaurant hosts live music every night.
When we went on Friday evening, the room was packed and people sat elbow to elbow around candlelit tables as a man played West African guitar music in the corner, propped up against the window. As the evening wore on the guitarist was joined by another musician and together they picked up the tempo. Staff were relaxed and warm, and were chatting casually to the mixture of customers, friends and family who were in the venue.
The menu was scant: it had three mains to choose from and only one starter, as well as two juices. We opted for the African mains: I had curried lamb with peanut butter and rice, and my friend had a spicy spinach stew, both of them hearty and satisfying and coming in at under a tenner each. I had a rum cocktail with baobab juice, followed by some bog standard but very reasonably priced house wine that was £3.50 a glass.
Beers on offer were an eclectic mix and mostly still being chilled when we arrived, which I took to be a sign of the restaurant cutting its teeth in its first weeks. Ultimately, however, the food was a backdrop to the convivial atmosphere. Let’s hope it lasts longer than its predecessor.
Halloumi man: Joe Taylor with ‘intergalactic’ stall front. Photograph: Ella Jessel
Asked who this year’s Field Day headliners are, would you say Caribou, Ride and Patti Smith – or Street Feast? For at next’s month festival, held as ever in Victoria Park, food and drink will be as big a draw as the music.
Or if not, it will certainly be as eclectic. Faced with a sudden craving for cold biltong, churros and chocolate or just a plain old soft shell crab burger, you won’t be found wanting. Street food, needless to say, is experiencing something of a boom in East London.
Joe Taylor is a 28-year-old from Stourbridge in the West Midlands, who came down to London to seek his fortune as a street food vendor. “I don’t have another job or career as such that I want to do specifically,” he says. “So setting up my own business gives me the freedom to tie all my interests together: having fun, going to festivals and events and working outside.”
The parameters set, Joe needed an original idea – not easy in an already crowded market. As a vegetarian one food he found himself drawn to at festivals was halloumi cheese.
“A lot of other stalls might use halloumi as vegetarian option but I thought if I was just doing a vegetarian stall there I could do something a little bit different with it.”
As well as halloumi wraps, Joe was soon thinking up new cheesy products – all guaranteed to make you dream at night. Deep fried bread-crumbed halloumi, pieces of halloumi in a cone and salad boxes are all on the menu. But after premiering the idea at Winterville in December, he realised something was missing – a snappy (or even cheesy) name, an identity. Soon Moony’s Halloumi was born.
“I wanted to find a bit of an angle that would help me engage with people, so there’s a little mascot which is Mr Moony, and he’s basically made out of cheese,” Joe explains.
“The stall front is a bit of an intergalactic space theme comprised of recycled 12 inch records. In front of the records we’ve got space mountains which have got a volcano plume where the menu boards can be written on that. And there’s a few halloumi people and bits of artwork.”
The strength of the street food competition means some kind of hook is a sensible idea. Kate Greening is this year overseeing all the food at Field Day and has been bringing vendors to Field Day for five years under the Venn Street banner.
“When I started we only brought in 10 metres of food then, and now we’re filling the whole site,” she says. Kate explains that as well as including well-known street food traders such as Street Feast, they are trying to bring less established traders with new and exciting ideas into the site.
“It’s very niche, very specialist, rather than have people who can do everything, we want traders who do one specific thing and really specialise.”
Kate reels off some of the highlights on ‘food stage’ as though they were her favourite bands. Crabbie Shack, of crab burger fame, apparently put a whole crab in a burger bun. “It looks like a croissant but it’s not, it’s a crab,” she assures me.
Churros Bros will be frying up dough – Spanish-style – with specialist chocolate, a new Filipino trader Kusina Nova looks set to impress, then there’s hog roast, sushi wraps and, I’m told, “killer” mac and cheese from Anna Mae’s. There’s enough, I’m assured, to take a trip around the world in different street foods.
“We know what the food culture is in London, and this is a great way of celebrating that by bringing as many of the high quality traders together as we can,” Greening adds.
After a three-year residency at the Hackney pub and music venue the Sebright Arms, now legendary pop-up Lucky Chip has packed up and moved on. With oodles of national press and legions of fans, as well as trendy if not wholly tasteful branding (see, for example, its Breaking Bad menu with “meth hot sauce” and free rock candy for all diners), it helped the Sebright become a destination for hefty late-night burgers.
Enter Bunsmiths. This new food venture has been developed by Sebright owner Charles Ross. At first glance, it is intended to fill the gap that Lucky Chip left behind: many of the items are identical. However, with plans to expand into a standalone restaurant in the next year, Bunsmiths is also presenting itself as a new contender on the scene. “When do you think we’ll hit peak burger?” my dining companion asked, as we were perusing the menu. It appears no time soon.
Bunsmiths, however, has a barbecue twist. Ross imported specialist smokers from the United States and as an American transplant in London who often feels bereft of proper soul food, I was heartened to see beef brisket on the menu, as well pulled pork – although I drew the line at a bun that combined the two.
The bacon cheeseburger and the brisket bun we ordered came accompanied by a tower of serviettes that were quickly used up: meat juice and sauces from both sandwiches ran through the bottom bun, down our wrists, and onto the food tray: this is not first date fare. While the barbecue perhaps didn’t quite reach the dizzying nirvana that it does in the States (my search continues), both sandwiches were ample, greasy and satisfying, appropriate fare for booze-soaked gig goers.
The sides are also worth a mention: homemade onion rings, fried chicken strips with chipotle mayo, and a crème fraiche coleslaw. There is a salad option but truly, this is not the place for salad. Along with my meal, I had a shot of decent Mezcal and a beer back, and my partner chose from the numerous craft ales on draught. Looking at the busy Thursday evening bar suddenly drain of people as they all headed downstairs for a gig, I was happy to see that despite plans of expansion, the Sebright has retained its unpretentious charm and local atmosphere.
