Food Van, Kingsland Waste Market
Food Van
Kingsland Waste Market
Kingsland Road
Kingsland
E8 4AA (map)
by Hashley Brown
For one night only the LRB team was Jazz. Never had there been such a confluence of breakfasting prowess and free-form improv since, well, Louis was snapped charming some juice out of a New York waitress.
Anyway, in stark contrast to the velveteen interior of Ronnie's, I found myself only hours later hungry, fallen out of bed and in the Kingsland waste market. In many ways a spiritual home this motley assortment of (possibly) stolen power tools, romantic comedy videos and old mens' shoes that lines the Kingsland Road every Saturday morning has all the appeal of a trashy carboot sale, with none of the uncertainty or trudging to Edmonton.
Breakfast is provided by Alan and his wife. At least I think he's called Alan and I'm guessing she's his wife. They sit in a van on the corner, and provide that staple of carboots, amateur sporting events, and any other impromptu gathering: hot, fried solace for waking up so early to get there.
I plumped for that old favourite, the bacon and egg butty, but noticing the option of bubble, added that in on top. I've always been a fan of the double carb sandwich - something the Scots do so well - and with a jazz hangover it seemed somehow apt to bulk up. I sat on the white patio furniture put out for customers, and watched the November sky turn a menacing colour. Alan laughed at me as his wife squeezed all the ingredients into a bun. "How's he meant to eat that?" he chuckled. "To be honest that's not my problem," she laughed back. Tucking in with the hub-bub of the market around me, and bits of fried potato sticking in my beard, I felt full, unwashed, and problem free too.
Kingsland Waste Market
Kingsland Road
Kingsland
E8 4AA (map)
by Hashley Brown
For one night only the LRB team was Jazz. Never had there been such a confluence of breakfasting prowess and free-form improv since, well, Louis was snapped charming some juice out of a New York waitress.
Anyway, in stark contrast to the velveteen interior of Ronnie's, I found myself only hours later hungry, fallen out of bed and in the Kingsland waste market. In many ways a spiritual home this motley assortment of (possibly) stolen power tools, romantic comedy videos and old mens' shoes that lines the Kingsland Road every Saturday morning has all the appeal of a trashy carboot sale, with none of the uncertainty or trudging to Edmonton.
Breakfast is provided by Alan and his wife. At least I think he's called Alan and I'm guessing she's his wife. They sit in a van on the corner, and provide that staple of carboots, amateur sporting events, and any other impromptu gathering: hot, fried solace for waking up so early to get there.
I plumped for that old favourite, the bacon and egg butty, but noticing the option of bubble, added that in on top. I've always been a fan of the double carb sandwich - something the Scots do so well - and with a jazz hangover it seemed somehow apt to bulk up. I sat on the white patio furniture put out for customers, and watched the November sky turn a menacing colour. Alan laughed at me as his wife squeezed all the ingredients into a bun. "How's he meant to eat that?" he chuckled. "To be honest that's not my problem," she laughed back. Tucking in with the hub-bub of the market around me, and bits of fried potato sticking in my beard, I felt full, unwashed, and problem free too.
posted by London Review of Breakfasts |
11:54 AM |
3 Comments:
nice post. love reading your blog, guys. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, don't you know...
alan and his wife lisa, still to this day they are there
This has been a very significant blog indeed. I’ve acquired a lot of helpful information from your article. Thank you for sharing such relevant topic with us. I really love all the great stuff you provide. Thanks again and keep it coming
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