Brick Lane Beigel Bake
159 Brick Lane
Spitalfields
E1
020 7729 0616
by Henrietta Crumpet
So I wanted a bit of breakfast and decided to take the boy for a beigel. The East End’s a trek, but it’s worth hauling ass to get there. You’ve got to commit to the beigel. The boy’s a goy but I don’t hold it against him, as long as he keeps his taste for bacon away from ma. He’s never been visited by a moyel, if you know what I mean, and I’m just coming to terms with the small nose.
So it’s a Sunday afternoon and I’m thinking a nice stroll down Brick Lane, maybe buy some material (it’s a bargain there - a snip - more than the boy’s had), and get some nosh. The Beigel Bake’s an institution, open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, even on Shabbat for the gentiles. We walk in. There’s a queue but a bit of jostling never did anyone any harm - that’s what elbows are for - and I’m eavesdropping on the local gossip, when in walks this total schnoorer and starts giving me this shpiel about his bad knee and his terrible eyes. Wants to jump in front of me. What a meshugener! I mean, these beigels are good, just like aunt Fiegi used to make, boiled first, baked after, and with enough cream cheese to feed all the doctors at a Bar Mitzvah. I’m not giving up my place for anyone.
I wanted the whole schmeer: salmon, strudel, cholah, cheese cake. I’m telling you, that melt-in-the-mouth salt beef: to die for. I’m no schmoe, I know a good cholah when I see one, and I won’t pay too much gelt for it either: 15p for a plain beigel, a bargain. This place is the business, go anywhere else, you’re a schmuck. As they say; ‘Love tastes sweet, but only with bread’, and after we’d schlepped home with beigels for the whole family, I didn’t hear the boy k’vetshing about putting that to the test…
Monday, December 18, 2006
Monday, December 04, 2006
J's, West Hampstead
J’s
218 West End Lane
West Hampstead
NW6
020 7435 3703
By Goldie Quorn and Veggie Kray
Scene 1
Him: What are you having?
Her: Don’t know. But definitely lunch.
Him: Not breakfast?
Her: No lunch. Italians don’t do breakfast. They do lunch.
Him: I’m having the vege breakfast.
Her: Or I might have the eggs benedict.
Him: What IS eggs benedict?
Her: Not sure really. I think it is sort of egg sauce. On eggs.
Him: I’m having the vege breakfast.
Her: It’s lunchtime.
Him: So?
Her (Looks at menu again): Or maybe I’ll get pasta. Or brushetta. (Pause) Why don’t you get brushetta and I’ll get pasta?
Him: I’m having the vege breakfast.
Scene 2
Him: How is your eggs benedict?
Her: Nice. But the egg is way too runny. And the sauce is a bit weird. Eggy. (Pause) Nice though.
Him: Mine’s lovely.
Her: What sausages are they?
Him: Linda McCartney.
Her: Full of air. And fat. Nice though.
Him: I like them.
Her: Can I have a bit?
Him (Cutting a piece of sausage): And beans? Mushroom? Toast? Tomato?
Her: Yes please. With ketchup.
Him: I’ve only got one small sachet!
Her: The Italians don’t do ketchup.
(Pause whilst she eats huge mouthful from Veggie’s fork)
Him (Points at Goldie’s breakfast): Let’s have some of that then.
Her: It’s not that nice. The egg’s too runny. And the muffin’s soggy.
Him: You get salad though.
Her: Yeah. Bit weird with breakfast.
Scene 3
Him: Guess how much it is.
Her: I hate this game.
Him: I think it’s 12 pounds 57.
Her: I think it’s a 100 pounds.
Him (Opens bill): Hah. I win. 14 pounds 85.
Her: It’s 1 pound off each breakfast if you come before 12.00.
Him: We came for lunch.
218 West End Lane
West Hampstead
NW6
020 7435 3703
By Goldie Quorn and Veggie Kray
Scene 1
Him: What are you having?
Her: Don’t know. But definitely lunch.
Him: Not breakfast?
Her: No lunch. Italians don’t do breakfast. They do lunch.
Him: I’m having the vege breakfast.
Her: Or I might have the eggs benedict.
Him: What IS eggs benedict?
Her: Not sure really. I think it is sort of egg sauce. On eggs.
Him: I’m having the vege breakfast.
Her: It’s lunchtime.
Him: So?
Her (Looks at menu again): Or maybe I’ll get pasta. Or brushetta. (Pause) Why don’t you get brushetta and I’ll get pasta?
Him: I’m having the vege breakfast.
Scene 2
Him: How is your eggs benedict?
Her: Nice. But the egg is way too runny. And the sauce is a bit weird. Eggy. (Pause) Nice though.
Him: Mine’s lovely.
Her: What sausages are they?
Him: Linda McCartney.
Her: Full of air. And fat. Nice though.
Him: I like them.
Her: Can I have a bit?
Him (Cutting a piece of sausage): And beans? Mushroom? Toast? Tomato?
Her: Yes please. With ketchup.
Him: I’ve only got one small sachet!
Her: The Italians don’t do ketchup.
(Pause whilst she eats huge mouthful from Veggie’s fork)
Him (Points at Goldie’s breakfast): Let’s have some of that then.
Her: It’s not that nice. The egg’s too runny. And the muffin’s soggy.
Him: You get salad though.
Her: Yeah. Bit weird with breakfast.
Scene 3
Him: Guess how much it is.
Her: I hate this game.
Him: I think it’s 12 pounds 57.
Her: I think it’s a 100 pounds.
Him (Opens bill): Hah. I win. 14 pounds 85.
Her: It’s 1 pound off each breakfast if you come before 12.00.
Him: We came for lunch.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Special Dispatch: A Tale of Two Scotlands, by Hashley Brown
Hashley Brown has been seconded to Glasgow's East End for the last three months (and he's got fatter)...
As modern lore has it Scotland is a land of deep-fried pizza munching obesity. And yes, it does have its fair share of food crimes, but it also has its Highlands and Islands, its wide open spaces that would beat any other in the UK were they contenders to the most rugged or bleak world title. Escape from the central belt of urbanity that is bookended by Glasgow in the west and Edinburgh in the east and you enter a world of Rabbie Burns and misty lochs. A tale of two Scotlands ensues. One informed by the other, but gastronomically distinct.
Scotland No. 1:
Pizza Supper: Budget pizza slung into the fryer with chips.
Pizza Crunch Supper: Budget pizza dipped in batter then slung into the fryer with chips.
Mega Munchie Box: All the Indian starters (Pakora, Bhaji etc..) deep fried with chips. In a box.
...it goes on. There is a great, overwhelming love of chips, and more chips, and fried stuff in inner city Scotland. Lots and lots of chips are consumed, preferably with cheese, all the time. Indian and Chinese takeaways offer chips as standard with all dishes. (And chip shops sell sweets too). Love of the fried potato extends to double carb meals, tattie (potato) scone rolls, takeaways that boast as being the home of the 'cous cous toastie'. Putting one form of fried carbohydrate into another is fun, if not strictly healthy.
"How does this inform one's breakfasting?" I hear you cry. Well simply this, they fry a lot. Your standard greasy spoon will serve you up a plethora of breakfast goodies, almost all straight from the fryer - link sausage, lorne sausage, hash brown, tattie scone, black pudding (and chips), none of which is of any great quality. You eat it and feel dirty afterwards.
Scotland No. 2:
When London's gastro-masses aren't guzzling Breton cider to wash down that tangy Calabrian salami they just procured, it is quite likely they are sampling the produce of their Caledonian cousins. The names of many great Scottish foods are synonymous with quality - Arbroath Smokies, Loch Fyne Oysters, MacSween's Haggis, Argyll Venison, smoked salmon from anywhere, Highland Bitters, Islay single malts (just for starters...). From Scotland's bountiful countryside comes fantastic food. Now do the sums. Add the universal maxim of Scottish breakfasts (serve em everything) to a place that prides itself on sourcing local produce and you have a breakfast for a King, or maybe a Bonnie Prince.
When in the city it pays to choose your breakfasting venue carefully to avoid bountiful grease with your substandard meat. Glasgow is gastronomically more of a challenge than Edinburgh (this writer was dismayed to hear from a local cab driver that "Glasgow's not ready for sushi...") but there are gems everywhere. Having said that, a bacon and tattie scone roll from anywhere will taste fantastic, even better if it's in Glasgow's Barrowlands market. Once you've had your fill of the cities I'd recommend hotfooting it as deep into the countryside as you can, and notching some country breakfasts onto your early morning bedstead. And remember that a Full Scottish is considerably bigger than a Full English, and that haggis, black pudding, Cloutie Dumpling & Lorne Sausage are all wonderful additions to the breakfasting repertoire (as is whisky with your porridge, but the porridge story demands far more discussion than one article will allow).
In a mere three and a half months of breakfast research, it has been impossible to measure the breadth of the Scotch breakfast, but safe to say that if you find a good one it'll keep you right all day. As long as you never, ever ask for a Full English...
Try these: Heart of Buchanan, Tapa Organic bakery, Peckhams (Glasgow), Bonhams (Edinburgh), The George Hotel (Inverary)
As modern lore has it Scotland is a land of deep-fried pizza munching obesity. And yes, it does have its fair share of food crimes, but it also has its Highlands and Islands, its wide open spaces that would beat any other in the UK were they contenders to the most rugged or bleak world title. Escape from the central belt of urbanity that is bookended by Glasgow in the west and Edinburgh in the east and you enter a world of Rabbie Burns and misty lochs. A tale of two Scotlands ensues. One informed by the other, but gastronomically distinct.
Scotland No. 1:
Pizza Supper: Budget pizza slung into the fryer with chips.
Pizza Crunch Supper: Budget pizza dipped in batter then slung into the fryer with chips.
Mega Munchie Box: All the Indian starters (Pakora, Bhaji etc..) deep fried with chips. In a box.
...it goes on. There is a great, overwhelming love of chips, and more chips, and fried stuff in inner city Scotland. Lots and lots of chips are consumed, preferably with cheese, all the time. Indian and Chinese takeaways offer chips as standard with all dishes. (And chip shops sell sweets too). Love of the fried potato extends to double carb meals, tattie (potato) scone rolls, takeaways that boast as being the home of the 'cous cous toastie'. Putting one form of fried carbohydrate into another is fun, if not strictly healthy.
"How does this inform one's breakfasting?" I hear you cry. Well simply this, they fry a lot. Your standard greasy spoon will serve you up a plethora of breakfast goodies, almost all straight from the fryer - link sausage, lorne sausage, hash brown, tattie scone, black pudding (and chips), none of which is of any great quality. You eat it and feel dirty afterwards.
Scotland No. 2:
When London's gastro-masses aren't guzzling Breton cider to wash down that tangy Calabrian salami they just procured, it is quite likely they are sampling the produce of their Caledonian cousins. The names of many great Scottish foods are synonymous with quality - Arbroath Smokies, Loch Fyne Oysters, MacSween's Haggis, Argyll Venison, smoked salmon from anywhere, Highland Bitters, Islay single malts (just for starters...). From Scotland's bountiful countryside comes fantastic food. Now do the sums. Add the universal maxim of Scottish breakfasts (serve em everything) to a place that prides itself on sourcing local produce and you have a breakfast for a King, or maybe a Bonnie Prince.
When in the city it pays to choose your breakfasting venue carefully to avoid bountiful grease with your substandard meat. Glasgow is gastronomically more of a challenge than Edinburgh (this writer was dismayed to hear from a local cab driver that "Glasgow's not ready for sushi...") but there are gems everywhere. Having said that, a bacon and tattie scone roll from anywhere will taste fantastic, even better if it's in Glasgow's Barrowlands market. Once you've had your fill of the cities I'd recommend hotfooting it as deep into the countryside as you can, and notching some country breakfasts onto your early morning bedstead. And remember that a Full Scottish is considerably bigger than a Full English, and that haggis, black pudding, Cloutie Dumpling & Lorne Sausage are all wonderful additions to the breakfasting repertoire (as is whisky with your porridge, but the porridge story demands far more discussion than one article will allow).
In a mere three and a half months of breakfast research, it has been impossible to measure the breadth of the Scotch breakfast, but safe to say that if you find a good one it'll keep you right all day. As long as you never, ever ask for a Full English...
Try these: Heart of Buchanan, Tapa Organic bakery, Peckhams (Glasgow), Bonhams (Edinburgh), The George Hotel (Inverary)
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