I can't stand Hallowe'en. Apart from one great Queens Of The Stoneage concert many years ago and some nifty horror films, the celebration has never held much relevance or enjoyment for me. It's all a bit American, a bit throwaway, a bit trashy and cheap, to be honest. Trick or treat..? I will acknowledge the need for this, but only until one is 8 years old. Any older than that and they ought to be slapped in the back of their parents' car and whisked home with a lecture about acting one's age.
...But that said, as I get older, it's easier to ignore this sort of nonsense and focus on the sort of stuff which does excite me in mid-autumn. This includes in-season game, brisk afternoon walks and leaves in the road. And chestnuts falling from the trees. Now
there's something I want to hold on to as a treasured childhood memory. Much better than tearing around a neighbourhood annoying people.
This particular autumn day - and this particular Hallowe'en - the other half and I popped out to the east end to check out Spitalfields market, buy a few clothes (I was more of a carthorse at this point) and eat a bite or two (playing more to my strengths).
Whitechapel, Spitalfields and most of E1 is synonymous with curry. When once this area of London housed a thriving Jewish community, now it is home to a great many Asian folk, Bangladeshis in particular. What it means is you have a tonne of - by and large - average or below average curry houses trawling for business on Brick Lane, leaving most passers-by entertained or annoyed. (Or maybe just indifferent. Or oblivious? I'm not going to list any more emotions Brick Lane curry promoters might make you feel.)
We walked down Brick Lane and discovered Pizza East. That's not to say I hadn't heard about it before now, but I'd never actually seen it. I didn't realise it was part of the utterly-east-end Tea Building, on the corner of Shoreditch High Street and Bethnal Green Road, former venue of the popular Tea Rooms. Pizza East now takes up the bottom floor of this hulking, lovable monstrosity and people are
flocking in.
And in we flocked. If two people can indeed flock... We ate pizza. We drank water. We had a lovely time. I'd heard from a couple of people that this place wasn't really all it's cracked up to be, but that depends on the result of any up-cracking, really... It's very tasty pizza. And when it comes to pizza, that's all you need to know. It's not classic, in the style of
Santa Maria, but it's good quality stuff. Fresh, rustic, filling, satisfying.
We tried two pizzas. In the true style of a critic - which I am not, I suppose, but what the hell, I ought to be - we tried a margherita (left). Of course, you absolutely have to get the basics right. Without a good cheese and tomato, any pizza restaurant is nigh on done for. Fortunately, Pizza East is alive and well. Top stuff - comforting, crunchy, gooey cheese in the middle and a little basil on top to finish with a zing of peppery goodness. Yes, any pizza eater would enjoy this. And that's good pizza.
Now, at one end of the scale you have a classic done well. So naturally you want to see if they can compete at the top end of the scale too. So we tried a veal meatball pizza (right). Certainly a long way from a margherita in both style and taste. I would usually baulk at the idea of eating pizza without tomato, but when the pizza in question contained veal meatballs, my anger subsided enough to distract me to try a taste. Let's just say I'm no longer wedded to the idea of tomatoes on pizza as I might've been before.
The menu lists ingredients in their pizza the same way all the trendy, up-and-coming places do now; like this: "Veal meatballs, prosciutto, cream, sage". Take a moment to (figuratively) digest those ingredients. Not bad going for a down on the ground pizza place, right? The pizza was as simply delicious and fattening as its description read. Creamy, thick cheese sauce broken up by the meaty, punchy meatballs and silky prosciutto.
We didn't need much after we finished these. A splash of water and a sprinkling of black pepper to help them down was sufficient, which suggests that this brief lunch time outing was a total success. It was relatively quick, it wasn't too pricey and it was actually rather delicious.
Pizza East may be old news to many, but to me it's quite the place to be. With that kind of attitude, coupled with my distaste of Hallowe'en, I suddenly feel comfortably middle-aged and satisfied. Is that a catchphrase Pizza East wants to adopt? Assuredly not, but I suppose what it does tell us is this: they'll add years on to your age, but you won't mind because the pizzas are lovely.
We strolled outside, took in a breath of grubby Shoreditch air and wandered back towards Spitalfields Market. Clearly we had to work off the pizza lunch, so we wandered around some more shops, took in a few more edifying sights and eventually found ourselves at the back end of the afternoon, in the mood for dessert and, well, maybe just another small snack?
Horrendously gluttonous, I know. But in my defence, St. John Bread & Wine made me do it. That's what they do. With the memory of the
4 weeks prior pig adventure still fresh in the mind (and that particular evening's intake yet to relinquish its hefty oppression of my arteries), I just couldn't say no to St. John's sister restaurant, which sits so quaintly on the border of Spitalfields Market. It is just opposite what used to be The Spitz; a classic old London music venue.
Whilst London's plan to seemingly rid itself of pop cultural institutions (The Spitz is one in a long line of charming places which don't exist any more) continues on relentlessly, its urge to throw great restaurants and successful restaurateurs' empires at us all warms my heart slightly. St. John, as I fawned a while ago, is just about as positive as you can be when describing London's eating scene. It is impeccably conceived, so absolutely I fancied some late afternoon refreshment at the secondary restaurant in St. John's armoury.
Now, when you've been sauntering around the east end of London all afternoon, having taken in an impressive but not gut-busting pizza lunch and are subsequently ready to eat some more a few hours later, you are absolutely looking for impeccable conception. Folks, I give you the St. John Bread & Wine menu. It seems pretty pointless linking it here because it changes daily.
Try your luck if one happens to be online today.
Basically, they offer three main courses for the evening menu, plus a load of other stuff. It's more or less English tapas. And though that may sound absurd, ill-conceived and pretentious, if there's one franchise that can carry it off, it's this one. A list of around a dozen small plates and ten desserts was pretty much exactly what I was in the mood for come six o'clock.
We shared some bread and butter (of course - this is the sort of restaurant that prides itself on such basics) followed by pink fir apple potatoes, wild sorrel and a poached duck egg (left). It was heavenly.
So simple but undeniably perfect. Unspoiled ingredients and unpretentious execution are possibly the two most important features of modern British cuisine and this dish was right on the money.
These were the best new potatoes I have ever eaten. I don't know if they should be technically labelled such, they were a little misshapen and bulky to pass for traditional news, but they tasted outstanding. Coated in a thin sheen of butter, they were nearly sweet in their
al-dente glory. The sorrel was pretty, adding some green flourish to the dish, as well as softening the potatoes' taste a little. The egg was perfectly poached; a silky, slightly gelatinous centrepiece which would've taken first prize off most plates, but not with these potatoes.
We then decided to try a couple of desserts to finish our day of eating in style. The other half ordered us a chocolate terrine with milk ice cream, whilst I was champing at the bit for some jam roly poly. The former was chocolatey in the extreme, which I suppose is what you might expect, but the massive rush of cocoa from the terrine overwhelmed the milk ice cream and any subtleties in the dish were lost. Fortunately, the roly poly was a stormer (right). Served with a quaint jug of custard, the slice was piping hot, perfectly balanced and further justification that the folks at St. John know their stuff on all three courses.
Two meals in four hours; two great restaurants. I'd go back to both of these places with little provocation. Great pizza, great small plates and a great day in the east end. Sometimes it seems like the only restaurants you'll ever need are in London. Last Hallowe'en was one of those times.
Pizza East
St. John Bread & Wine
The variety on the Pizza East menu is always a pleasant balance between exotic and familiar. There's never too much choice but there is just enough to make the first read through the card an enjoyable debate. I decided to push the boat out with a pizza and a side dish. The main event was topped with squash, pancetta, parmesan and stracchino cheese (left). This was a hearty, thick and creamy pizza. One perfect for a winter's day walk around London. The stracchino, a cow's milk cheese I had not eaten previously, contributed the creaminess without overwhelming the base and flavour elsewhere. The parmesan's sharp acidic notes gave some zip to the whole thing whilst the meat and the squash sat perfectly as the main flavours: salty, savoury and deliciously soft.
My side dish was cauliflower cheese (right). Given that I was eating a cheesy pizza it seemed a little indulgent but the fact that it was also still technically the Christmas season meant I had impunity to order all the dairy I wanted. The dish itself was a delightful mixture of both white and green cauliflower, both of which were perfectly cooked. The different types of vegetable lent a necessary textural variation to the dish and the overall effect was wonderful. Another dish perfect for a winter afternoon.
In the event, we went for a sample of dim sum dishes which started with an assortment of dumplings (left). All steamed but containing different fillings, these were a lovely way to start. All the fillings, from scallops to pork to mushrooms, were excellent. The soft, supple dumpling casings were steamed to a smooth texture which meant the whole tray was devoured in minutes.
We also ordered soft-shell crab (right). This was clasically deep-fried to crispy, greasy satisfaction. Not at all heavy or cloying, the meat was soft and sweet with a hint of saltiness to bring home the sea flavour. A dish like this is so pleasurable by its very nature that it becomes easy to dismiss it as a constant winner. However, Imperial China is the kind of place where it starts to become something a little more special than the closest one gets to Chinese fish 'n chips.
Our final main dish was a plate of pork gyoza (left). These were properly crisp, chewy and slightly soft dumplings which had been pan-fried to a perfect bite. With soy sauce on the side, these didn't last long and the fact that we'd had pizza for lunch suddenly seemed a distant memory.
