A perfect day in the perfect pub - #3

"The Place I love is a million miles away..."

Lunchtime at the cricket, lunchtime in the perfect pub and a distant dream time on the jukebox. The Jam's 'The Place I love'* is playing. One of my favourite Weller songs, it always reminds of George Orwell's 'Coming up for Air'. 

In which, the main character George Bowling decides to revisit the places of his childhood, in particular he plans to revisit a specific pond with a large fish in that he had tried to capture over 30 years ago. When Bowling returns, he finds the whole place unrecognisable. He eventually locates the old pub where he is due to stay but finds it much changed. His old family home has become a tea-shop. Only the church and the vicar appear unchanged. 

The saddest part is when Bowling sees his ex-girlfriend. She has been so ravaged by time that she is almost unrecognisable and utterly devoid of the qualities he once adored. She in turn, fails to recognise him at all.

Thankfully, 'The Place I love' lingers in utopian days of sanctuary despite the fact that: 

"... the place I love is overgrown now
with beautiful moss and colourful flowers
and goldfish that swim in a pool, there's a small brick wall
with neon lighting, controlled by lightning"

As my mind reaches out for the opening salvo of Rick Buckler's drums on A-bomb in Wardour Street that never arrives, a fish finger sandwich drenched in Heinz Salad Cream, Vinegar and Tabasco does. The barman knows to leave bottles of all three condiments on the table too. The thick cut chips were brought here directly from Mount Olympus and melt on contact with my tongue. A second pint of Guinness has also appeared in a blur of efficiency and gratitude. 

The good news from the cricket is that Jimmy Anderson has already bagged three early Aussie wickets. Meanwhile, Internazionale are interested in buying a decent goalkeeper from Genoa and an amateur British cyclist has been tipped as an outside hope for this year's tour. 

All this and it is only ten past one! 

*I know that 'The Place I love' was never released on 7" 

but this is a perfect day in a perfect pub....

Shrove Tuesday (Pancake Day)

You can't make a pancake without...

Pretending you are actually Michael Caine as Harry Palmer in The Ipcress File, it says so, it's in the rules.

Bubble & Squeak

Roast dinner was fine (when I used to eat meat) but it wasn't the highlight of the weekend. The true culinary hotspot was on Sunday when the leftovers from the previous days meal were transformed from horrible cabbage, soggy potato, inedible peas into the gorgeous, nay sumptuous explosion of taste and texture that was/is and ever shall be bubble & squeak.

Doused with gravy and the obligatory mint sauce, not forgetting the obligatory burnt bits. Nothing, no, nothing could beat it. Add to that a lovely yorkshire pudding and some cold cut and I was dining at the Ritz, the Stamford Bridge Cafe and The Grand Hotel Eastbourne all at the same time.

In fact now that the plate no longer has to accomodate beef, lamb or pork there is room for even more!

Wonderful!

Pre-made Sandwiches (M&S preferably)

Aussies don't really do sandwiches that well. Ham, ham & cheese or ham & cheese without the cheese. The seafood options are negligible and as for a vegetarian option - non existent!

What I really want is a West Cornish Crayfish Tail, Russian Tomato and hand-reared Tunisian Cucumber relish with Pomegranate & lemon drizzled wood-fired wholemeal focaccia sliced 97% fat free sandwich!

Honest I do!

Top 3 Caffs

I know that it is all the rage and everyone seems to be blogging about the best café’s, it’s a bit like stand up comics in the 90’s going on about ‘Spangles’ and ‘Ice Breaker chocolate bars’. But I do miss them, café’s (and Spangles too actually).

Sydney has got one or two fine café’s, not least the magnificent and wonderful Maisy’s on Military Road, Neutral Bay (a stumble down the street from The Oaks!). But that is for another day/another blog. So here are three to be getting on with…

ALFREDO’S
My favourite café was Alfredo’s on Islington Green, where I went for breakfast on my wedding day. Despite the obvious last meal of a condemned man scenario, I always loved the whole brilliant approach to how you got served. “Me Mum’s clocked ya”, were the words you longed to hear.

In all the times I went to Alfredo’s, I never once got short-changed, forgotten, the wrong order, offered an egg-plant on crusty ciabatta, was kept waiting for a seat longer than 10 minutes, could see out of the steamed up windows. It was the ideal place to hide away for mornings on end in a fog of toast and the sports pages.

MACARI’S
At the top of Terminus Road. Macari’s was the place to go before the beach and Macari’s was the place to go after the beach. Two fried egg, two slices, mushrooms, beans, fried bread and a cup of tea. Sit down on the orange seats either with friends or a copy of ‘Moonraker’ and prepare for the joys of sunbathing ahead. When the day was done we’d repair back to Macari’s for a cappuccino and maybe an ice cream or some more toast, the juke box would play ‘Theme from Mantrap’ by ABC and we’d plot and play the evening ahead.

Check out Macari’s at the excellent http://www.classiccafes.co.uk/eastbournespecial.htm

THE SPARTAN
Run by Tony & George. We lived in the Spartan Bar & Grill in the early 80's. Hunched over a coffee for hours on end or demolishing a plate of toast in double time (Giro day!). We spent so much time in their, sitting in the window seats, smoking for England, spilling sugar/coffee and tea all over the table, folding and refolding the serviette’s, bouncing on the brown vinyl seats or just watching the comings and goings at Chaterlands.

We became part of the family almost. A mate moved into the flat over the café, we had poker nights, strange trips, early mornings and lazy afternoons there. We even recorded an album of background music under the name ‘The Blue Curacao’ that they actually played over the tinny sound system. (Track names I can vaguely remember were; ‘Two Coffees please Tony’, ‘Can I pay you next time I’m in’, ‘Hey, get your feet off the seats’ and the epic cocktail jazz psych freak out ‘Spartan Special Grill’!

Decent tomatoes

Hard as it may seem, in this land of milk & honey, the tomatoes are decidedly lacking. Neither crisp nor particularly flavoursome. The humble English tomato leaves them flailing in its wake. Whether as a salad component or indeed pasta accompanying sauce, the pom tom wins hands down!

British Rail Toast

To be honest, I missed BR toast even when I was living in London. Because for the last few year the only food available on trains has been an 'edamame granary bap with honey drenched quails eggs and steam fried rocket and parmesan dressing'.

That being said, my memories of the perfect round of toast still remain. The toast had become an integral part of the going to London ritual. If it was for a Chelsea game, we'd meet at Eastbourne station at ten to nine and have blagged the 'not really first class' single six-seater compartment, before making our way to the buffet car. For some reason, still unclear even after all this time, the buffet wouldn't open until we'd departed Polegate (waving to Roly the incredibly rotund guard as we departed).

The shutters would open up and we'd all proceed to order, "four cans of Special Brew and four rounds of toast please" much to the obvious annoyance of the buffet steward. You see the problem was that toast took a long time to serve and as soon as the smell wafted down the carriage everyone wanted it. In fact for the last few years they didn't even put it on the menu! It became even more of a secret ritual for the chosen ones.

Once the toast was ready, normally by about Lewes, it was served without a flourish but with the tiniest serviette and we'd return to our compartment and stare in wonder at the piping hot lakes of butter that sat bubbling on the perfectly toasted (and never, ever burnt) thick white slices. After taking the first sip of brew, we'd proceed to demolish the toast with unadulterated joy.

It was then and still remains the finest toast ever made.

When BR was broken up and sold off to Network SouthEast it was one of the first things to go. Sadly but unsurprisingly Roly was next to be shown the door - a rather wide door in his case actually! However, occasionally when boarding the late train from Victoria, we would wander into the buffet, recognise the older style compartment that had yet to be refitted and have the grill removed and nod to each other in complete agreement. Our eyes would meet the Steward's and he would acquiesce gracefully to our simple question:
"Don't suppose you still do Toast, do you?"
"Not really supposed to lads, but if you just give me 5 minutes..."