Sunday Roast @ The Charles Lamb

I’d wanted to eat at the Charles Lamb for years and I mean years, probably 3 or 4 at least, but with most things in my life things get changed always at the last minute.

Yipin China

I first heard about Yipin China here, and then I kept noticing it as I walked from Angel Station up Liverpool Road to my fave Pizza Pub, which is where we were going to when a last second change of plan saw us opening the door to this wonderful Chinese restaurant.

Cafe Rendezvous - A Good Ol' Cafe

You get what you pay for at the majority of Cafes in England. Some are good, some are bad, and others are mediocre. Rendezvous is an ok place that serves your traditional favourites plus a few daily specials that may be up on the wall week after week.

I opted for the set brekkie as always. Sausage, bacon, fried egg, fried slice and a mountain of mushrooms. The yolk was runny and the sausage was still juicy. The bacon was a tad tough, but there were 3 rashers, which is a bonus as you normally only get 2. The fried slices of bread was a blast from the past, haven’t had one of those (for good reasons) since the 90’s.

My partner in crime opted for the daily special of the Chicken Curry. Which she says and I would have to agree with her, reminded her of one my dad’s Thursday night currys. Straight from the jar curry sauce, and Uncle Ben’s boil in the bag rice. Do they still make that?

The Rendezvous is a nice place on Highbury Barn filled with locals, workers and some students from the LMU. Friendly staff who provide a cheery service in a nice reliable place. If you are outside and in need of some filling food, then it cannot be beaten.

Gallipoli – A trio of Turkish Delights

I think quite soon we may die form an overdose of Turkish food, but that is the future and we are enjoying it whilst we can.

There are many Turkish restaurants on Upper Street, which are proper restaurants, as we know them rather than the traditional Ocakbasi you may be familiar with in Dalston.

Gallipoli is the first in a trio of restaurants that occupies a small part of Upper Street close to St Mary’s Church. I’ve walked past this trio so many times, with it in my mind to sample what they had to offer inside.

To say Gallipoli is eclectic inside is an understatement. Lamps, car number plates, bowls all hang from the ceiling. The walls are covered with old and new photos from Turkey. Yes it is a tad tacky, but somehow it does work very well. I felt very comfortable here.

At lunchtimes they have a two course menu for £7.50p. A bargain, as a lot of the mains are a tad more than that. So we delved in with some starters and mains.

My starter was a simple bean salad, which would have been a lot better if it wasn’t fridge cold. But it has given me a million ideas for meals this summer I can do for work. Lina’s, what seemed like a spin on a Imam Biyaldi with a yoghurt sauce drizzled over was delish. Really nice. More ideas.

My main of stuffed aubergine with minced lamb and rice was really good. The rice needed a tad more seasoning but that was all. I did see some people have this dish off the mains menu, which was priced at more than our 2 course meal. The portion size was the same but on a much larger plate. Made me feel happier.

Lina’s pan fried sea bream was nice and juicy. The skin was crisp, nice salad as well.

This was a really nice simple light lunch and at less than £8 each was a real bargain. I think we shall have to return to Gallipoli more often, as it is a big change from the Ocakbasi’s we have been frequenting a lot recently in Dalston. 

Trullo - Highbury's Finest

I made the reservation for Trullo about 6 weeks in advance. I’ve never been that organised in my life before, but sometimes you just have to plan ahead. I’ve already made a reservation for the River Café at the end of March, but that’s for my birthday and that’s different.

I’d been wanting to eat here for quite a while, but in some cases I feel it is best to let a restaurant run for a while, before charging in like a bull in a china shop, and criticising it for basic start up errors, which hopefully should iron themselves out over time. So over 8 months since its opening, I thought it was time to give it a whirl.

I had seen the interior of the restaurant from the outside many a time from the 19 bus, but once you are inside, it is surprisingly small but yet still spacious. It has a simple but kind of industrial look about it, with scaffolding planks masquerading as shelves, even a few books on them as well.

The menu is short and sweet and comes in several parts. Beginning with the antipasti, primi, then the mains from the grill or the oven, followed by the deserts and then the finale of cheeses.

I’ve never been keen on antipasti in restaurants, as the price outweighs the quantity of the food that you get. So I always give them a miss.

Tonight’s menu offered us a nice range of offerings, but there were more dishes we were not keen on than we were. Which is a shame, but wrong night I guess. There were a few offal dishes to keep us entertained, so all was well in the Highbury world of Italian restaurants.

So for starters we ordered the borlotti beans with grilled ox heart and the papperdelle with a beef shin ragu. Both were presented nicely, well I thought so. They were very rustic and simple in look, but who needs to be complicated. Both had Parmesan wisps grated over the top. Taste wise, my pasta was silky smooth and had a great feel to it, I just wish I could say the same about the ragu. It was lifeless and boring. The meat had been cooked to the desired tenderness, but it lacked any real flavour at all. Had they forgotten to season it, had they tasted it? Obviously not.

The same disappointment was met after tasting the borlotti beans with the ox heart. The beans were again lacking any real taste. Some of them were chalky and slightly undercooked. The ox heart was perfectly cooked, but again it did not taste of ox heart. It could have won the tasteless ox heart of the year award. A big shame. This did not leave us with high hopes for the mains.

The mains came and looked lovely. 10/10 for presentation for these guys. I had the Venetian calves liver with polenta and a rocket salad. For me, this made up for any shortcomings on the pasta dish. The liver was cooked spot on. I could not fault that at all. Perfect, perfect perfect. Excellent. The polenta had been griddled so was kind of crunchy on the outside, whilst still being creamy on the inside. It did need a smidgen of more seasoning, but the liver was still sending my senses into heaven that I didn’t mind. The rocket salad was as sharp as it should be, anymore and it would have been too much and been totally ruined.

The problem came with the 2^nd main. This was from the grill. The pork chop, potatoes and braised celery. On first appearance it looked great. Taste wise, the chop had bags of flavour and was still juicy. The problem was the potatoes. They were still fridge cold. Unbelievable. Had they forgotten to take them out in time, and just remembered whilst they were plating up and hoping we wouldn’t notice.

We called over the waitress and told her the tatties were cold. She had a most surprised look on her face. She took the dish away without a word, and then we waited. By the time the dish came back we’d more or less polished off my liver. But there was no word of apology from anyone. In fact, more or less after that we were ignored. I’m not sure why, I can only imagine it was because the staff hadn’t been trained how to apologise. It’s like some of the agents I use overseas, when all goes well, all is fine. When things fuck up, they really fuck up, as they have no idea how to handle it.

But for a restaurant that was charging £16.50 for a dish, you’d expect a) the tatties to be hot, b) you’d expect an apology. Period.

I have to say the dish that we got back, and it was a brand new dish was pretty damn good. The chop was as juicy and tender as the last one, the celery had a lovely crunch to them. Even the now warm tatties were nice.

The lack of an apology has left a bad taste with us. We were not expecting anything off the bill, and we never got it, but we expected a simple sorry. Nada.

Trullo does do very good food. Some highs (liver), some lows (ragu) and some schoolboy errors (cold potato’s). But it come across to me that the pricing and the bad service that it is really punching well above its weight here. But when you look around this part of North London, there really isn’t anything that can come close to the quality that it does turn out. But that doesn’t excuse bad service.

I’d expect that in Nando’s (although I’ve only ever had good service there), but not in a restaurant where you pay £40 + per person.

Good food, bad service. I won’t be going back unfortunately. 

Gutted.

Sunday Roast @ Le Mercury

Le Mercury is a good, not too expensive place to go and get some nice nourishing food. What it isn’t, is a good place to go for a Sunday Roast.

The food was good, I mean it best Sunday Roast I’ve ever had, but it also wasn’t the worst Sunday Roast. That still sits with The Bull. Still having nightmares about that.

What really spoilt it was the vibe of the place. If I was pre or post theatre, or on an early date with a girl, then this is the perfect place. It’s all very dimly lit, candle lit, romantically lit type of place.

The service is a little more than you would expect in a place such as this. It’s all a bit formal. It’s all a bit pre or post theatre.

It’s not for a Sunday Roast.

Saying that, the roast wasn’t bad. Nice cut of well cooked, juicy beef. A bit tight on the roasties, but they were good none the less. Well cooked carrots and broccoli. Pretty tasty gravy. The plate was restaurant plated, not Sunday Roast plated.

It’s just the vibe that killed the roast. I’m not really into eating Sunday Roasts in the evening, although I’ve done it a few times recently and there is something about it, that isn’t right.

It’s not for a Sunday Roast.

I want to go back during the week, and have a romantically candle lit dinner with the wife, and I know we will enjoy it.

It’s just not for a Sunday Roast. 

Foto Friday # 31

One of the many street stalls outside the Emirates. This jerk chicken stall is one of the better ones. It was even tastier after our 3-1 win over a certain Russian owned south of the river team.

The Beach Hut – My Local Chippy

Fish and Chips were a Friday regular in my household as a child, until my dad decided that the other British staple of spaghetti bolognese was to be the choice for our Friday night dinner.

A lot of the local fish and chip shops in Basingstoke became Chinese takeaways, instead of banishing this traditional food and replacing it with their own culinary treats, they actually improved the quality of the fish n chips. They also provided us with that so needed added extra, Curry Sauce. I recently had some chips with curry sauce in a pub, and it rolled back the years. It’s crap we know that, but it’s also pretty addictive. One of the good things to come out of the 80’s.

Islington has its fair share of fish n chip shops. Some ok and some not ok. I think I’ve tried most of them now to be able to say that. That would explain my ever increasing waistline then.

The newly opened Beach Hut on the site of a one time closed fish n chip shop has brought life back into an odd stretch of road. There is a quality butchers, a good Italian deli and a fantastic cheese shop (even if the staff are rubbish), and some not so good cheap take away joints. Somehow they shouldn’t mix, but they do and it works. Kind of.

I think I’ve sampled the fish n chips enough times at the Beach Hut to know they are the bees knees. Unlike the fried fish of my childhood where the fish was cooked hours ahead of service and left in those traditional warm counters to sit and sit and sit until wanted. These little beauties are dipped in batter when you order them and they are fried before your very eyes. It makes all the difference.

The fish comes out lovely and crispy, the soft flesh is perfectly cooked and is a delight to eat. You can actually taste the quality of the fish. A rare thing these days.

We’ve eaten in and had take-away a few times. The décor is truly like being at the seaside, lot’s of pastel colors, wooden tables and chairs.  The menu is displayed on a chalkboard behind the counter.

The portions are truly on the large side. We made the mistake of ordering a large portion each first time round, well I was seriously hungry. One would have been enough for us both. They are that big.

The chips are good and comforting. Nice and floury on the inside, although not being as crispy as I like on the outside, but still very good.

They have a good selection of sides, the mushy peas are particularly good and go well with the mains.

For some reason I prefer having a take away rather than eating in. The only downside to this is the fish and the chips are a little bit too greasy and being in the bag for the short trip home sweats them a tad, but a quick blast in a hot oven dries them out enough. 

I’ve found out something in life the other week. Martini’s and fish n chips do not go together. A night of too many cocktails at 25 Canonbury Lane, a great cocktail bar just near Union Chapel told me this.

There is something about de-stressing out over a few perfectly made and alcohol laden cocktails that puts you in a good mood for the night ahead.

Things have a changed there a bit, it used to be more cocktails than beer, but on recent visits it’s more beer than cocktails. Seems the locals now, scoff at the idea of a well made mojito or martini. Actually on our last drunken visit, only women were drinking cocktails, and me. But it’s still a good place to chill and drink. Good mix of well heeled and not so well heeled people.

But after a night of strong vodka martinis, hunger always creeps in and as the Beach Hut is on our way home, we stopped in for some grub to quench our hunger. Martini’s good. Fish n chips good. Together. It just didn’t work. But I’m sure if we hadn’t been so drunk we would have realized that beforehand.

Thankfully the Beach Hut is doing good business, so it won’t be joining the vast majority of restaurants that close within their first year. Hoorah.

Delhi Grill or Delhi Let Down

I have to say with all the hype surrounding Delhi Grill, I was expecting more, much more. I was hoping for something that I had been eating in India those past months. Alas all I got was better than average typical Indian restaurant fare. Very disappointing.

I had eaten their kebab wraps before on Sundays, as once in a while I do a bit of shopping at the weekly Farmers market on Chapel Market. Those I found to be ok, but way to much rabbit food for my liking. Plus I wasn’t overly keen on them squirting sauce on the kebabs. Surely any flavour should come form the lamb itself. Shouldn’t it.

They have being doing some good PR recently, as the place was pretty packed, and I think it’s the first time I have been asked if we had a reservation in an Indian restaurant. Damn good PR work.

Thankfully there were a few seats available at the far end of the narrow restaurant, as only a sandwich had somehow sustained me all day. Shame we were so far away from the good vibe of the place, but we were content to sit next to a couple who were talking about what great business deals they had done recently. Boring.

I like the décor it does look quite funky in there, lot’s of pre-made newspaper clippings on the wall. This wouldn’t look out of place in a trendy Delhi or Mumbai cafe. They call themselves a dhaba, which I’d love to see one as clean and tidy as this on any Indian highway. Plus there were no fat Punjabi truckers loitering around sipping cups of chai, talking to all and sundry and trying to put the world to rights. A shame.

Thankfully I find a restaurant that knows its limitations and have done the sensible thing and kept the menu pretty short and sweet. I only wish a lot of other places would learn from them and do the same.

What we had was a pretty mixed bag really. The chutneys were pretty much the highlight of the show. A shout goes out to the beetroot chutney, and also the carrot chutney deserves a special mention. The papadums were pretty good also. Straight from the oven. Well an Indian meal isn’t complete without papadums is it.

After a brief scanning of the menu, we ordered the lamb chops as a starter, and prayed they were as good as the ones in the New Tayyabs. Sadly they were just above average. Nicely cooked but lacking any real flavour, and no hint that they had been cooked in a tandoor. Boo Hoo.

As we seem to be eating a lot less these days, we only ordered some naan, the chicken karahi and the tarka dhal. The dhal tasted as good as I make it, but it was too much like a soup rather than a dhal. It had that raw spice flavour I like so much in Indian food. The Karahi was nicely flavoured but far too watery. It doesn’t take much to cook the sauce down a bit more. The Karahi was far too reliant on chilli to give it life. Shame.

I have to say that some silly schoolboy errors let this place down. The naan was pretty nice, but I don’t think it had seen the inside of a tandoor oven.

I will return, as I could see there was room for improvement here, and hopefully next time all will be better. But based on this visit, I’d rate the Delhi Grill as an above average modern Indian restaurant. 

Tube Strike Wednesday @ Ossie's Jerk Chicken

These tube strikes are becoming a little annoying now. Well only because I now have an extra days work to do and one day less to do it in. What a pain.

So with no way of getting to work as that damn Piccadilly line was suspended all the way out West, I was left with a free day. What to do, what to do.

After some house cleaning and a little washing, I was feeling a little peckish, actually I was bloody hungry. So I found myself in Chapel market buying some veggies for the next few days, and lo and behold I was standing outside Ossie’s Jerk Chicken. Lunch sorted.

I’d eaten in there a few times now. It’s a small shop with a few tables if you decide to eat in. There are no plates, everything is served in plastic containers with plastic cutlery. It may sound pretty crap but the service is friendly, the lunch specials are very well priced, and the food is great. What more do you need.

I’m not much of an expert on Caribbean food, but I’ve eaten enough Costeña food from Colombia to know how things should be.

My sister in law cooks the best coconut rice on the planet, although they don’t put beans in their rice along that coastline. That is left to the mountain folk of Medellin to mix rice and beans.

Ossie’s rice has some great coconut flavour and with the beans are sublime. It goes particularly well with the yummy brown chicken stew, the unxious oxtail stew and the thick mutton curry. I’m pretty sure it does, although I haven’t tried it yet, but the jerk chicken must go well with it as well. Kind of criminal really, that I haven’t eaten their star dish. But it does mean I always have a reason to go back. Although with what I have eaten there already I will always be a good customer.

The Stringray Cafe

I had never expected much of the Stringray café mainly because of the name, but also the look of the place didn’t feel with me with culinary delights. I’ve no idea why but I knew one day we would give it a try. It was just too close to our house not to.

The day had come. We arrived late from work, tired, hungry, couldn’t be arsed to cook, and didn’t want to go far to eat.

Stringray is the nearest place to our house. Just beating the Beach Café and Iznik by only a few metres.

The menu is Italian. I am always dubious of eating Italian food in restaurants, mainly because I know I can cook it better myself. Arrogant, no. Truthful. yes.

So looking down a pasta driven menu, I opted for a pizza. I still need to find a good pizza close to the house, after moving form Liverpool Road and the Regent. I need good close pizza.

So a margarita pizza and a calzone were ordered along with a glass of house red and a leffe. Something about continental beer and pizza just clicks for me.

The interior of Stringray is rather homely, nicely coloured walls gives a cosy feel to the place. A good cheap neighbourhood restaurant, which every street needs really, rather than those bloody chains. So glad I do not live in Chiswick.

The pizza was ok, nothing special. Thin crust, nice tomato sauce and quite a bit of mozzarella on top. The calzone was a bit doughy but again was quite good. Huge portions.

The bill came to £20 with added tip. So all in all not a bad option if we are find ourselves in a position where we in need of a quick bite to eat.

But I am still looking for that close to hand good pizza. 

Zigni House - A Little Bit of East Africa in North London

A dull Friday afternoon at work with me watching the clock, and twiddling my thumbs with nothing to do. This is a common theme with me at work at the moment.

My ramblings on skype were not going down to well with my friends who had things to do at work before the weekend.

Then a crazy message came from Lina.

“Diana wants to meet up with us tonight”

“OK, where?” I replied

“No idea, but she likes eating different foods”

“Well what about Baozi Inn in China Town?” was my reply

“Nah, she mentioned African food, what about that place on Essex Road?”

“Ahh yeah, Eritrean I think it is. OK, I’m sold”

So that was how we came to eat at Zigni House. I love the spontaneity we have sometimes. Keeps you alive.

Zigni House is kinda baffling. On the one hand it is a good restaurant serving from what I can make out pretty authentic and tasty Eritrean cuisine by very friendly staff. On the other hand it was a Friday night and there was only one other table occupied. Odd. A few people came in for takeaways, but it was pretty dead. I know the stretch of road that it is on, is a bit of a nightmare, but surely word must have spread about this place. Obviously there are too many people not willing to leave the comfort of Upper Street and venture further a field. Shameful.

Our lovely host who offered us tips on what to order was very patient with us, as one or two of us were pretty slow in ordering. She was also very proud to tell us about each and every dish, which was good, as we knew nothing about Eritrean cuisine.

It does seem that everything and I mean everything comes with Injera, a sour bread, more like a pancake than a bread, but its sourness goes so well with the curry’s. I was a very happy man.

You learn a lot about people when you are put in a situation where you have to share your food. Me, I love to share, as I love trying different things. Other people do not like to, so I never got to try all the food on our grand platter. A shame.

Our food came on a massive tray with the injera on the bottom and the food was ceremoniously put on top in our own little corners.

Between us we ordered a Begi Curry with Zigni sauce. (An on the bone lamb curry in a semi hot sauce). It was really unxious and using the bread to eat it was a pure delight, especially as I was now a kind of an expert at eating with my hands. So those 10 weeks were good in a way.

Goden Tibs (spare ribs fried in garlic, rosemary and spices). This I never got to try, but I was told it was very good.

Derho Cotelete with an Alicha sauce (fried chicken breast in a mild sauce made with onions, garlic, turmeric and curry powder). The sauce was very subtle and was a nice combo with the juicy chicken.

One of us had a small combo with about 4 different items form the veggie and curry menu. I only got to try the dhal, which was really rich and filling.

The best thing about all of this, that being served on the injera as you worked form the outside in, the bread was soaking up all the sauces and it was purely unxious and dreamy. Every morsel of the last bits of bread was soaked with the sauces that it was very difficult to stop eating it. I mean very difficult.

All this was finished off with some traditional coffee. The beans are roasted in a clay oven and brought round for us to smell. Oh my god I was in heaven. It is served in a traditional coffee pot made of clay with a little bit of hay stuffed in the spout to keep it hot. The coffee was pretty strong, and had such a lovely nutty flavour that I had to have some more. Actually polished off 3 cups. Maybe that was the reason I could not sleep that night.

We chatted with the owner for a bit afterwards and from what I can gather they are just surviving. Which is crazy for such a great restaurant. A big pity. But it is all down to location. Shame really, but I will be returning for more of that bread.

I hope you will give it a try also. 

Garufa and Still Turning Down Baby Sitting Duties

The good thing about being away for 10 weeks, well apart form being away for 10 weeks, was getting to meet up with lots of people upon my return.

One of the first we met up with was Lina’s cousin, his soon-to-be-wife and their little or now not so little baby Emma. She had grown. Last time I saw her she was a tiny two month old insect. Now she is a large seven month old eating machine.

Her parents have taken on some new ideas to heart. They basically feed her what ever they are eating. And I mean anything.

I was joking when I suggested Garufa, saying that it was about time that she started on her first steak. Little did I realise that she was an old hand at this. I was disappointed that she hasn’t mastered the knife and fork yet, but she certainly showed her love of a lovely medium rare piece of steak.

After 10 weeks of eating really nothing but curries in one form or another. Ranging from those lovely south Indian fiery curries in Oman to the watery ones in Bhutan, I have been in craving everything but spiced food.

I’d been thinking a lot about Argentina as a friend was telling us spring had nearly arrived there and he was getting ready to wear his sandals everyday. To say Lina was slightly upset was an understatement. She is still clinging to summer like a crazed person.

But it got me thinking, and I got to craving milansesa. A dish that Gonzi had got me addicted to way back when in Buenos Aires. It was probably this that got me eating katsu curry in the Tokyo Diner the night before.

Obviously the katsu wasn’t enough for me and I wanted that milanesa in Garufa. I needed that milanesa.

We’d tried to eat at Garufa earlier this year, but it was a Friday or Saturday night and they were busy, and we hadn’t made a reservation. So we ate elsewhere. For some reason after that we never got round to going back, plus me being away on hotel inspections for 10 weeks. Well now we had an excuse.

The menu at Garufa is pretty standard Argentinean restaurant in London. They have their cuts of meats, bife ancho, bife de chorizo, lomo and cuadril. All these come with a side of salad or chips.

They also have their mixed parilla, which comes with an assortment of meats, sausages, black pudding and a portion of provolone cheese. A must for any parilla. Normally the provolone cheese is for the veggie that always turns up to an asado in someone’s house.

Ordering was pretty simple 3 bife de chorizo all medium rare, 2 side orders of chips, and my milanesa, which came with chips. Plus a pre order of provolone cheese, moron asado (grilled red peppers) and a couple of what turned out to be very dainty empanadas.

It’s took me a week or so to calm down over the empanadas. They were titchy, and I have to say not that good. The meat one lacked real flavour, plus it was fried. The locro (sweetcorn) one was just so so. The corn needed the creaminess of a Tucuman empanada. Plus as I said they were really small, and at £5 for two. Not very happy. I have to say Lina could and should make them for the restaurant. Hers are so much better. This was the low point of the meal.

The provolone cheese was really nice. It had been grilled over the coals and came in a dish to be shared, as all good food should be. Equally good were the peppers. Nicely charred and drowning in olive oil. Fantastic for the bread to soak it all up.

But the star of the show was the mains. My milanesa was a flattened rump that had been breaded and nicely fried was the size of my plate. The chips were knock down gorgeous. I wish some chippies would do chips this good. Lovely and crispy.

The steaks all 300 grams, were just awesome. Unfortunately I only got to eat a little, as my wife was enjoying hers too much to share. Even with me offering her vast quantities of Milanese. She wouldn’t budge. But I did get a small taste, and it was juicy and the taste of the charcoal came through in bounds.

Since I haven’t eaten a steak since god knows when, this was top of the shop by a long way. Prob the best since we left Argentina. Even better than the disappointing one we had in New York.  Actually that doesn’t count as we had it at Newark airport.

All in all it was a really good meal, and since we only live 5 minutes away up the hill I think Garufa is going to be on our list as our local. Especially as the have choripan for £5. Life is good huh?

The other star of the show was definitely Emma. Our 7 month old eating machine. The only thing she never ate was my milanesa, as she wasn’t willing to swap her steak with me. I’ve never witnessed a baby eat so much food, and none of it was puréed. I always pitied my nephews having to at that junk they were given as kids. These new fangled ideas on how to bring up babies seem to be pretty good.

We also seem to be pretty good at still managing to turn down baby sitting duties. I’m not so sure how many times we can claim that she is too small for us to look after. Emma will one day be forced upon us for the night. Until then we enjoying our baby free life. 

Tube Strike Tuesday at The Banana Tree Canteen

Was I the only person in London gutted not to be able to go to work on that fateful Tuesday? The sense of disappointment I had upon waking up and seeing that the entire Piccadilly line was suspended. I really cannot say how I felt. STOP. My boss isn’t going to read this. So was I like everyone else who could not goto work that day. Very bloody happy. I am fully beginf tis strike, as long as it continues to give me days off.

Both of us were pretty happy to go back to sleep and snooze for another couple of hours. It makes all the difference to wake up around 11 o’clock mid week. A magical feeling.

Islington is always busy, except when there are no tubes. I never realised how many people come to Angel for work, mainly because I live the other end and only come down this way at certain times. Plus as I work in west London, I am rarely here during the week.

A day off, the sun was out, and I was hungry. I was in no particular mood for anything special, but felt like somewhere new. Somewhere we’d never eaten at before.

As we were wandering down an empty Upper Street nothing we saw grabbed us. Then as if a sign from up above, the Banana Tree Canteen came into mind. Well not really, I could just see it in the distance.

We had pondered about eating at The Banana Tree for quite a while now. Well it is on the route of the number 19, so I’ve passed it on countless occasions, but never ever got round to eating there. Maybe there was a reason for that. Even as we were crossing the road, I was thinking about going to Song Que for some Pho. Now that was a sign.

The Banana Tree reminds me a lot of a chain called Wok in Bogotá, Colombia. It promises so much with its large menu, but really delivers a watered down version of what it promises as good Asian food.

The menu is to large for a single kitchen to make, so a lot of stuff is either made off site either by themselves or by a catering company, and there are a lot of them around these days.

I ordered a Malaysian lamb curry, which was nicely cooked and quite tender, but pretty flavourless, and no heat at all, as you would expect from a Malay curry. The portion of rice was a good size and came with a small salad that was actually the nicest thing on my plate. Do love peanuts.

Lina’s Mee Goreng with a slab of char gilled pork was an interesting plate of food. The pork had been smothered in a honey dressing that I thought meant it had been charred to death, but it was quite moist. It was just plopped on the side of the plate and there was no room for anything else, so a simple salad was on top of the noodles. Not a good way.

Somehow I wish we had gone to Song Que. The Banana Tree serves the local office lunchtime crowd very well, and those folks that congregate around this end of Upper Street at night.

After this visit, I now know why we never went in there, damn those striking tube drivers. Well not really, I am looking forward to the next one. But that time I will goto Song Que instead.