Fox and Pie, 28th February

I don’t want to be smug but there are definite benefits to keeping a physical list of the food and drink places you want to try. Such as when you arrive at your intended destination to find that they are unexpectedly shut when their website says they’re open and now you don’t know what you’re going to do for lunch.

Such was the case when we rocked up to Dog Eat Dog on Sunday in Angel (whose owners are currently considering their proposition) and were left in the lurch. A quick consultation of my blog and we decided to hop on a bus over to the Fox and Pie in Stokey (only just noticed the animal theme there).

This was an excellent decision for a Sunday afternoon. It was bitingly cold so what better than to warm up with some comfort food? I tried to order a savoury pudding but they were out of the chicken and leek one (clearly everyone had the same idea) so I had lamb and rosemary instead. Carolyn had the veggie pie. Both came with cabbage, carrots, some lovely little roasties and a bit of broccoli I happily ignored.

These pies were topped with pastry bursting out of their dishes, straining to reach the sky. Inside was a very flavoursome filling – mine had very tender lamb (and quite a lot of it) sitting in a ‘gravy’ that was not the usual thick and heavy dense stuff but basically seemed to be a stock flavoured through the cooking of the meat. It was very pleasurable.

Carolyn was very pleased to pick out courgette and asparagus in her pie (and supremely pleased that they had not resorted to the tried and tested (and boring) mushroom, or goat’s cheese, or goat’s cheese and mushroom).

And then, because we’re gluttons we ordered a dessert each too. One treacle sponge, one rhubarb crumble. While these were nice enough to eat, they didn’t evoke the same positive reaction as the pies had. We would have liked more crunch in our crumble and the base of the treacle sponge was a little chewy.

Seven Stars, 25th January

The Seven Stars is a dinky little pub behind the Royal Courts of Justice. There’s scant room at the bar or a smattering of tables with green and white chequered tablecloths to sit at and that's it. Barely room to swing a cat, if that's what you're into. 

It’s an odd place – I expected it to be cosier given it is so small, but the tables make it feel more like a little dining room. It terms itself a ‘gastropub’ and I was amused to find that pulled pork had found its way onto the menu at even such a traditional-seeming establishment.

I arrived early and managed to claim one of the small tables for me and my friend. These were soon in short supply so the place was quite full. But rather sedate, and not the sort of place to have the types of conversations I often have without raising an eyebrow if I were overheard. Kinda cute, but I think one visit is enough. 

The Widow's Bun Ceremony, 3rd April

London is full of strange rituals and ceremonies – the Ceremony of the Keys where a Beefeater goes round locking up the Tower of London every night (and you can go and watch) is one on a large scale. At the other end of the scale is the touching ceremony held every year at the Widow’s Son pub in Bow. It also doubles as an exuse for a right ol' knees up.

Legend has it that a woman’s son went to sea and was due to return home at Easter so she baked him a hot cross bun and put it in the window for him. He didn’t turn up, but having faith that one day he would, and not wanting him to think she’d given up hope, each year she did the same. When she died and the place was turned into a pub, the pub upheld the tradition. So, each year, at 3 pm on Good Friday, a hot cross bun is hoisted into a net which hangs above the bar in remembrance of the original sailor and also, as it turns out, other sailors who have passed away over the years. Locals and non-locals alike gather to take part in/observe this East End tradition and it is quite a merry affair with music blaring, and a big spread laid on. At 3 pm on the dot a young sailor is lifted into the air to do the honours and everyone sings along to some sea shanty (I presume) and also God Save the Queen. And then we have a moment of silence as we remember those in the community who passed away, which is quite moving. But they soon lift the mood again with some tunes and that quickly gives way to karaoke.

It provides an excellent excuse to drop into a local pub which still has a community about it. There were the typical East End characters – older brazen ladies all done up in their war paint, hair and nails immaculate. There were attendees young and old, and of course, plenty of sailors. We stuck around for a couple of pints (a round was only just over £6!) and Stephen made sure to sample one of the many, many hot cross buns baked for the occasion and then  we headed off for our normal 'hipster' lives…

Bogan Bingo, 12th March

If there’s one thing that can be said about the Aussies it’s that they now how to party. So as soon as you let them loose on bingo, you know it’s going to get a lot messier than most bingo you’ve ever played (unless you’re familiar with Rebel Bingo).

The name of the game is Aussie chavs, or Bogans, and our hosts for the evening really ham this up. Honestly, they are so immersed in their roles, high-octane the whole time, I don’t know how they find the energy to do it on a weekly basis. The Slug in Fulham is completely taken over for the evening by the Bogan boys and their bingo ballerz and there are lots of drink offers on as well as some dude food to soak it up. Thirty wings for £7.45? FIFTY for £9.45? What a bargain! We got there quite early and apart from the cheesy songs being played, wondered where the 'bogan' was going to come in. That is, until Trevor and his co-host come in, fully ‘okkered up’ with mullets, vests, denim cut-off shorts and strewth! some fruity language to get you going. Music is full throttle and you just have to be even louder to compete and claim your prize (though luckily they use microphones so you can hear the numbers being called).

There are a few rules. Or should I say rituals. To do it right, if you got bingo you had to do rock horns, grab your crotch, clench your butt and shout ‘BLOODY BINGO!’ And that was just to start. For any number ending in one, you were encouraged to shout ‘up your bum’, for 55 you gave everyone near you high fives, for any number ending in 3, one half of the room drinks, any number ending in 7 the other half does. Six meant ‘your tits’ and if any girls actually got them out, you got a drink for each nipple. This number didn’t seem to make an appearance until near the end of the night when plenty of people were liquored up enough to actually do it!  What with all of this, plus the music blaring and the Bogan Boys dancing, there wasn’t much time to play the actual bingo, so it was limited to two games. Usual rules applied – you were looking for a line, two lines and then full house. And yes, professional dabbers were used.

We were heartily and strenusouly warned - this is all about winning. Taking part counts for nothing! If you weren’t a winner, you were a loser. And who would want ot be a loser when there were such fab prizes as a framed photo of a panda on a slide, and a cereal dispenser, not to mention a Rick Astley dustpan and brush! But there were serious prizes on offer as well such as bottles of wine, £25 bar tabs and a real trip to Egypt!! To win a prize you first had to get bingo, and then you were invited up to pick from the board of famous bingo bogans including a fat kid of the week and Jesus (long hair, sandals, water into wine – of course he’s an Aussie!).

Then at half time there was an air guitar competition (though no one really beat the hosts at their own game) and there was also a round of guess the 80s or 90s theme tune for a free drink.

The music wasn’t necessarily my thing but it was hard to fall for the sheer brute charm of the event and the music all adds to the theme. It was mainly 80s and 90s cheesy rocky anthems like Black Betty, Dancing in the Dark, Summer of 69 which you can bop to while the hosts dance around like loons. Everything is turned up to 11 – this is ROCK bingo. They don’t just spin those balls, there’s a smoke machine and plenty of tongue action!

The grand prize is well worth entering for that alone (as usual I won a sum total of nothing – bingo is not kind to me) but it is an absolute blast. The pub stays open way after midnight and you’re encouraged to stay and keep the party going. But unfortunately, it was on the wrong side of town for me (it’s one negative point) so I couldn’t stay to see what kind of carnage it descended into.

The Warwick, 2nd September

I rather amusingly found myself in one of the worst examples of a typical West End bar the other day, shortly followed by another!

Every now and then I go through my list of bars to check none have closed before I’ve had a chance to get there. I came across The Warwick, a bar I don’t remember putting on the List, but whose website promises to let you ‘escape the West End bustle at The Warwick. Surrounding you with a genuine laid back ambiance that perhaps country retreats are renowned for, we pride ourselves on our friendly atmosphere, tasty food and great range of wine & drinks.’

How had I never noticed this pub before, right by Piccadilly?

Well, probably because it’s a total craphole. As I neared the corner I saw what looked like a typically country-type pub and assumed I was going there. No – that is the Leicster Arms. The Warwick is the one with the silver lettering opposite. Silver lettering. Already I thought I had made some mistake. I entered anyway. Some dreadful mainstream pop was blaring and on my way to the loo I noticed one of the rooms was called ‘The Crystal Lounge’. Oh dear. I waited for my friend, apologized, and we left without even staying for a drink.

 

She suggested the rooftop bar of the Sanctum hotel instead so we went up there. And promptly left without even staying for a drink. For a rooftop bar, there isn’t much open air, meaning all the smoke from cigars etc clings to the area. We actually did try to order a drink but the poor barman was being harangued and abused by a woman and her friends and that was enough for us to decide we didn’t want to mingle with that crowd.

Instead we went to the Urban Tea Rooms, a charming little coffee shop/bar that had bottles of Prosecco on sale for £18. A lovely little place. We then tried to get into Spuntino but that was full and ended up passing by Polpetto which was decidedly not. I hadn’t been too in awe of Polpo but I really enjoyed my meal at Polpetto – some very lovely Italian cooking, especially the Welsh lamb papardelle with it's huge hunks of lamb and the bobby beans in garlic and white wine. The gargantuan pieces of focaccia deserve mention as did an exquisitely cooked piece of octopus, crunchy yet tender, which I managed to eat some of before the tentacle reasserted itself and I couldn't bear to put it in my mouth again. Fantastic!

The Culpeper, 7th August

After our lovely drink at The Discount Suit Co we went to the newly opened Culpeper (where the Princess Alice once was, on Commercial Street). Their USP is having a garden on the roof from which some of your dish might be made but other than that they’re basically a pub in the front and a gastropub in the back and I’d read really good things about the place. 

For some reason it wasn't quite as satisfying as I'd hoped. Perhaps our choices didn’t give them a chance to show off their flair, but when it came to choosing, there weren’t that many items on the menu I was particularly taken with. Fish and chips seemed a little too boring (and didn’t look anything special when I saw someone get them). The pie looked quite good but I don’t like mushrooms, and it was one of those where you only get a pie topping, not the whole pastry shebang. I don’t like sardines. And I don’t really like mustard either but I thought ‘how mustardy can they really make potatoes?’ so ordered the pork chop. Stephen had the sardines.

To start we got some of the porkcorn. This was good if slightly chewy but basically just tasted of pork scratchings. I'd like to fool myself that it was healthier than actual pork scratchings though. 

Stephen got the anchovy salad and I had the artichoke with crab butter because it sounded the most interesting.This dish is not made for one person to eat. It is basically liquefied butter with crab meat in it and is one of the richest things I’ve ever eaten. It tastes good with the artichoke leaves but they don’t provide enough ballast to counter the grease and I began to feel a bit queasy as I neared the end. I more than encouraged Stephen to tuck in and have his fill as well. What we really could have done with was some house bread to dip in it, and fill my stomach so that all that butter wasn't sloshing around in there - but if I wanted bread I had to pay for it. Why don't we get free bread anymore? When did it become a 'starter' or part of a 'cover charge'? It's only flour and water. (Ok, ok, oftentimes a sourdough starter as well.) I feel this is stingy on the part of restaurants these days. While I’m at it, I kind of feel the porkcorn could have been a freebie too – such gestures are appreciated!

Anyway, Stephen was more than happy to give me a hand with this as his was a little underwhelming. He described it as a caesar salad without the good bits. I’m sure that all the ingredients were of the highest quality and fresh as a daisy, but I guess we’re just the kind of people for whom quality isn’t the thing that makes you say ‘wow’ when you’re eating a salad (unlike a steak, say, where quality is everything) - we want some more interesting ingredients as well.

So, our mains. My pork was cooked to almost rare in some places, which was a touch underdone for my liking. I know the trend is to cook it pink these days, and I’m pretty okay with that, but towards the bone it seemed to get a bit mushy and hard to cut and it didn't look that appetising. I am happy to report I didn’t suffer any side effects from this though! The potatoes were pretty full-on when it came to the mustard. They were thickly coated in a mustard sauce, rather than a mustardy vinaigrette as I’d expected. I could bear with them with the rest of the meal but couldn’t eat any of it on its on its own. Even Stephen, who loves mustard found them a tad overwhelming. 

Stephen’s sardines were fresh and cheeky-looking. But, in a similar vein to the pork, they were a little underdone - there was some blood towards the spine, and apparently one or two of them didn't seem to be properly gutted. He also didn't like the romesco it came with, which he thought was too sweet but I thought it was really good and kept nicking it to dilute the mustardiness of my potatoes. He got some chips on the side and of course I had to have one or two but I can't remember much about them. They definitely weren't bad but they weren't stand-out either.

We weren't even tempted to have a dessert, instead deciding to head over to the Peg and Patrio to finish the night. 

I've been back to the Culpeper since for a drink mid-week and enjoyed the light and airy space, with only a few people having a quiet drink. This in contrast to the Thursday evening we went when it was so busy, with people dribbling out to the pavement outside, that we were quite lucky to get a table (it doesn't take reservations). It doesn't exactly feel like a proper (read - old man's) pub, but nor does it seem to be just a restaurant with a bar attached. It's two very separate spaces and I would happily go back to share another bottle sitting in the window, but am in no hurry to get back to the other side for food. 

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INK and The Palm Tree, 29th July

I love being part of the Zomato community. Not only do they do great blogger events, they’re not shy about giving away prizes. Just recently I won Foodie of the month and a £75 voucher for Ink, a restaurant I already had on my List. It is fairly new and has opened up about 15 minutes by foot from my flat. It looked modern European and definitely a cut above anything else we have in the area (mainly chicken shops and kebabs, so not difficult).

Our host for the evening (whose name I didn’t catch) was friendly and charming and also a little silly which is always welcome. He was very good at being there when we needed him but also disappearing when we wanted some time to think over our choices.

£75 may sound like a lot, but at Ink it doesn’t stretch very far. However, as it was somewhere I’d wanted to go anyway, we didn’t mind putting in some of our own cash to make the most of the dinner. So we had a cocktail each to start – a whisky sour for Stephen, a classic champagne cocktail (suggested by our host) for me. It could have been a little colder but I liked the sweet/bitter taste. My other drink for the night was a robust picpoul while Stephen stuck with the sours.

The chef is a great fan of ‘textures’ – the word festooned the menu. And of course ink featured – once in the starters and once in the mains in the restaurant’s signature dishes. Burnt onions were also conspicuous.

Choosing was an enjoyable hardship. I got the scallops with peach puree, with pork scratchings crumbled over them and burnt onions. Two fat scallops were perfectly cooked and the other flavours were exquisite. The scallops were so soft that I really appreciated the extra texture (there’s that word again) from the crunchy scratchings.

Stephen had finally decided he wanted the bone marrow and then we were told it wasn’t on the menu for the night. He quickly chose the stone crab with textures of cucumber. Cucumber isn’t something he usually likes but it was done in such a way that he was happy to eat it. Flakes of potent crab sat on a sharp cucumber jelly and pickled cucumber, providing a punchy gherkin tang.

For our mains I had the signature dish of salted cod with textures of tomato, ink soil and confit potatoes. The textures in this case were confit tomato (scraped of their annoying sludgy insides), a tomato puree that tasted like tomato soup (a good thing) and crunchy, tangy tomato salsa. On the side were the spheres of potato confit and there was also a light lemon oil that was startlingly good on the tongue. Before I ordered it, I was warned – it was very salty. And it really was. For the most part, the rest of the dish balanced out the salt, but by the end of it the salt was rather overwhelming. I’m not the biggest fan of salty things in the first place! But the salt had done its job – the fish was nice and firm.

Then, Stephen made a mistake. He didn’t order a dish which had the word ‘textures’ in it. Instead he got the braised beef with peas, broad beans and potatoes. Apparently this beef had been braised for three days but it was surprisingly dry and solid. For that length of cooking the meat should have fallen apart merely under a stern glare. The potatoes were strangely delicious though – a slight crispiness to them.

We had already decided not to have dessert because we’d both eaten bad stuff earlier (me my Crosstown Doughnut) but we couldn’t say no. So we got one to share. Our choices were basically textures of chocolate or textures of vanilla. We got the chocolate. Always a risky choice for presentation but they did quite well, creating bit of a woodland tableau with the two types of chocolate, the chocolate soil (reminding Stephen of chock-lick and consisting of chocolate and hazelnut puffed crumbs) and the pretty mint leaves and flowers (a bit of a theme).

You can’t go wrong with what is basically pure chocolate and this dessert did well enough to almost make Stephen forgive them his main, although I think I would have enjoyed something a little lighter, or with yet another texture to it (namely cake).

Ink is certainly ambitious, perhaps a little too much so. While I welcome having a good restaurant in the neighbourhood I would welcome one even more that I didn’t feel I had to wait for a special occasion to visit. Despite the beauty of the dishes, Ink was just a touch too expensive, and the dishes a tad too small to win my frequent attendance. If they could shave a couple of quid off the starters and/or make the mains big enough that you could come for just a main and leave feeling sated, I think they’d be on to a winner. As it is, they’re not in a well-trod area and they’re not quite spectacular enough to be a ‘destination restaurant’. I'm not confident that many people who might not otherwise have gone to Mile End will venture here for Ink. And the lack of diners when we were there would back this up, even if it was just a Tuesday. There were only four other covers the whole time we were there and despite the easy listening background music and the canalside setting, it was rather too quiet for my liking.

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The Palm Tree

When I first moved to Mile End, my friend gushed to me about The Palm Tree and how lovely it was to sit outside by the canal. I’d only managed to get there once before, after Field Day when it was absolutely packed and far too late and cold to be sitting outside. It happens to be practically opposite Ink, so we thought we’d go along for a drink after our meal. Of course, by this time, even though the day had been bright and hot, it was starting to get a chill in the air and we didn’t want to sit outside anymore. But that was fine, for the inside has a charm all of its own. There is something Victorian about it, with chandeliers sending out eerie gloomy light over the china on the walls. The circular bar juts out into the rest of the room, turning it into a centrepiece. The red lighting brought to mind David Lynchian dream sequences. It doesn’t have a huge selection of beers but it’s reasonably priced – a wine and beer came to just over £8. A hidden gem. 

Stories and The Souls, 25th July

Last time I went to the Cat and Mutton I made the mistake of not having any food there. And this time – I kinda did again! Fate had determined that I was to have a work lunch that day and it kept me surprisingly full for so long that by the time we went to the Cat and Mutton for our dinner reservations, I wasn’t hungry. We did manage to fit in a couple of things, but first, we went to Stories.

Stories

There seem to be some places that you just instantly like, without even knowing why. Stories was that kind of place. It’s the sister venue of the Book Club and has that same kind of laid back, light and airy feel to it. Long tables in the middle and smaller ones round the edge are all loomed over by huge white lamps. 

We were there for drinks only but we saw other people’s food and it looked great. It also wasn’t too busy for a Friday night, meaning we could get a table and have a catch up without feeling cramped and without having to shout. We stayed for about an hour and had two cocktails, although the last one had to be gulped down rather quickly. We ordered at the bar but the drinks were brought to our table and I must admit the last one took so long to arrive I began to worry they’d forgotten about us.

Drinks were good – Alison had the Naughty which she wanted me to mention was possibly the best tequila cocktail she’s ever had. It was tequila, apple, cucumber, chili and lime. I had the Kiss and Tell – gin, strawberry and balsamic syrup, lemon and cucumber. I thought this was summery and fresh but I would say that the ingredients sounded more interested than they actually taste. However, for my next – a Likely – I was wowed. This was basically a rum and coke but with the addition of Disaronno, giving it an extra dimension. I could happily go back and while away a few hours sipping on these.

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Licky Chops (Pearl's) at Cat and Mutton

And so, we arrived at the Cat and Mutton and went straight upstairs to Pearl where we joked with the host about our need to make a reservation (it was empty). We got a bottle of wine to share – a nice picpoul, after much debate about trying the one recommended by our host until it turned out they didn’t have it! And then we still weren’t really hungry so we decided to get another bottle of wine. But I really wanted to try some food despite my lack of appetite so we also got some bread with smoked butter and the beetroot hummus with homemade vegetable crisps. As far as ‘nibbles’ go these were some high-end fare. The bread was amazing – chewy, dense. The butter was so thick it was like clotted cream – I never before have scooped bread into butter as if it were a dip. I loved the veggie crisps even if a couple were a tad chewy rather than crispy, and the hummus was lovely and light (though the beetroot seemed to mostly add to the colour rather than the taste). And our waiter was just lovely the whole time. I already liked the downstairs part of the pub but climbing those beautiful wrought-iron stairs is well worth it too for a less pub-like atmosphere.

The Souls

We ended the night on a high by dipping into The Souls (where Portside Parlour used to be). It’s still without any obvious sign it exists and is still incredibly dark down there, but it feels completely different to Portside cos now it’s all about the dancing! I would no longer use terms like ‘drinking den’ and ‘illicit’ instead I would say ‘party’ and ‘disco’! We ended up chatting to the guy who runs the place and his wife who’d been roped into working for the night but seemed to be having a whale of a time. Apparently his friend comes up with the cocktail concoctions while he concentrates on the ‘audio pleasure’ which is meant to be the main focus of the place. We had a taste or two of their frozen margarita which was great but for our nightcap I chose the fiery Fire and Ice - a dark and stormy with added storm (chili bitters). I would have happily stayed until it closed (about 2 am) – it was like stumbling on a private party getting into its stride (complete with resident cat uninterested in anyone) – but I had to get home. I was driving to Dorset the next day for a wedding! But I know I’ll be back.

Lovebox, 18th-19th July

For the first time (I’ve only lived in East London 7 years, and literally down the road form Vicky Park for 4) I went to Lovebox. And I was gonna do it right – that meant both days back to back. Previously it has been a Friday to Sunday event, but they decided to condense this year and concentrate the quality into two days. By going both days we noticed a marked difference in crowds and vibe.

Friday was the young, dancey, druggy day. The place was awash with gurning students, all doing that weird shuffle dance, like it was some big musical and everyone had spontaneously broken into a choreographed dance. It was actually rather eerie to watch sometimes. Everyone dancing in exactly the same way like robots. It was also one of the hottest days of the year – merely standing still caused an obscene amount of sweating. So there was a LOT of demand for the free water taps. Which were a great idea, but: 

a lot of people chewing their faces off 

+

the hottest day of the year 

=

queues for water that were half an hour in duration. 

Not pleasant. By the time you got to the front to fill your water bottle, you were thirsty enough to empty it again. We noticed later in the day that on top of the number of bars (of which there seemed to be a plentiful amount) they had some guys with portable tanks of beer and cider, filling up pints on the go. Oh, if they had only done that with water as well!

There were a lot of artists I wanted to see, but I also just wanted to soak up the festival atmosphere so we got there early and wandered around the whole site before getting into dance mode. My favourite tent in terms of aesthetics had to be the Red Bull tent – it was like a tiki beach hut in there!

There were also cocktail tents, a pirate ship and a dance off stage where we learned and then watched some belly dancing, and then a dance troupe killing it to African beats and Drums of Death. And there were some tents that weren’t tents at all, but areas for dancing cordoned off by a wall of music. Such was one of my favourite sets of the day – Shy FX at the Bearded Kittens manor, treating us to some jungle, drum n bass, reggae and hip hop. And the headliners Chase n Status were phenomenal. By this point a few drops of rain had started to fall but it was welcome relief after the immense sun of the day, and made Chase n Status cool in more ways than one.

Saturday had a completely different feel – more a bands festival than a rave. On the Friday I think we only heard two live voices all day, Saturday was awash with live acts and bands. And a much different crowd – the drinker crowd. Suddenly the bars we thought were plentiful and easy to get to the day before seemed far less bountiful and all completely rammed. And everyone was being asked for ID, even though half the crowd were in their 30s. Same as the day before, there were a few random things happening as well as the main areas – we caught the burlesque parade (above) as we made our way to the main stage, and Little Gay Brother were once more set up at the Cider Tent. Saturday’s highlights had to be watching Soul II Soul in the sunshine – a perfect afternoon activity and they were just brilliant. Caron Wheeler looks like she hasn’t aged, and her voice was as soulful and mellow as ever. Nas wiped the floor with his set and M.I.A turned the whole place into a party with her amazing lightshow – both on stage and created by handing out glowsticks to the crowd. We unfortunately didn’t see all of her set though as we wanted to leave to go out partying at the Queen of Hoxton… among others (see below).

Food

I don’t know what the food has been like previously but this year there were some serious eats to be had. There was a whole BBQ area where you could choose from Miss P’s, Smokestak, Smokey Tails and Kurobuta, and I noticed Spit and Roast, Bonnie Gull and Mama’s Jerk elsewhere. I had decided on my list were Kurobuta and Miss P’s but in the end I didn’t get Miss P’s – I had a Popdog instead, which was great – you choose your frank: pork or beef, and then it’s up to you to load it up with toppings. I smothered mine with jalapenos and sauerkraut as well as some ketchup and mustard.

But on the first day I made a beeline to Kurobuta to try some of their buns. Big, crispy on the edges slabs of pork belly came with pickles and this amazingly, fiery, nutty sauce on the side. Plus onions and cucumbers in the buns. Fabulous food.

We also had a Crosstown Doughnut as we chilled out listening to the pumping tunes from the Roller Disco, curated by It’s Supa Dupa Fly. Kind of a shame they didn’t have a proper tent to dance in!

Afterparty

What’s a festival without an afterparty? Well, in this case we eschewed the official ones and went to Queen of Hoxton for Artwork, Logo etc. But it shut at 2 and we never go home that early. Instead we found ourselves in the Joiners Arms, a gay pub recently threatened with licencing issues and saved with a loving campaign. This place did remind me a little of Ye Olde Axe – it’s just a large pub, but it was a lot of fun, and friendly, and not at all full of men just on the prowl, which is what I’d heard before. We made friends and when that place shut we went where everyone else apparently goes after – East Bloc by Old Street roundabout. Don’t ask me what that was like – by the time we got there my brain cells were just about functioning enough to keep me upright, never mind retain information!

The Cat and Mutton, 18th June

The Cat and Mutton recently opened under new management. That management being the people responsible for Ruby’s and also initiating a partnership with Licky Chops (the alterego of Lucky Chip), I was keen to get down there as soon as possible.

As with so many things on my List, asap turned out to be longer than I wanted but last week I finally got there. Unfortunately, we went there because we were booked in for a steak dinner at Buen Ayre, which means I didn’t get to try any of Licky Chops food, though I must say everything I saw going out looked gorgeous.

No, we just had a couple of drinks inside before moving on. The place has been given a distinctly pub feel but also one that is quite ‘clean’ and airy. There are some cute little touches that you might not at first notice, which give it its own personality. Like the table legs being made from vices. It’s very far from Ruby’s shambolic décor but it hasn’t gone completely the other way – there’s nothing sterile about the place.

I had a pinot grigio which was one of the nicest I’ve had in a long while. Incredibly pale and way too easy to drink. I had joined my companions partway through their pints yet finished my large one before they’d finished their drinks, that's how easily sippable it was.

It was a Wednesday evening so the place didn't have much custom, and therefore a direct comparison to the last time I was there under the old management, late on a Friday night, is hard to make. I can imagine that not much will have changed - it will still be full of people, still a great place to hang out, but perhaps a touch more grown up.

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