Step out of Finsbury Park Station (Wells Terrace exit) on any evening and turn right towards Stroud Green Road - you can't help but get a whiff of the sweet jerk chicken aromas wafting through the air. It's a nasal delight, a perfect accompaniment for a summer sunset; and it's provided by the hot griddles of the yellow shack on the corner, Big Dada's BBQ (open 10am-midnight everyday).
One fine April evening I stopped off here for a touch of nourishment on my way up the hill towards home. I asked the chef behind the counter for a saltfish patty and made some preliminary enquiries about the establishment.
'So do you cook all your patties here?' I asked, as he took the yellow pastry off the incubated rack and slipped it into a paper bag.
'No, no, they get made in a factory', he said, smiling, '...they come from a factory near Heathrow Airport.' How intriguing, I thought. Why so far away? Are the raw ingredients flown in direct from the Caribbean? Presumably somebody is lugging sackloads of hot patties up the Piccadilly Line everyday.
Fumbling for change, I realised I only had £1.31 in my packet, and the asking price for saltfish patties was £1.50. Seeing my struggle, the seller said not to worry and let me off the difference and handed over the patty. So far, so great! Clutching this cutpriced prize I wandered off up hill.
The lukewarm yellow half-moon pastry was flatter and floppier than I'd had before. Taste-wise, too, I was left surprisingly underwhelmed. It took me three bites to get a tangible grasp of the saltfish's presence. The remainder of the filling was composed of moist mushed pea, sweetcorn, carrot, and red pepper. Only when I reached the mid-section did the flavours break through and liven up my tastebuds. That was the best bit, the pepper and hot spice complementing the saltiness of the fish (cod, I think). Good stuff. Once I'd passed the patty's halfway point though, the spiciness went away again, and I was left struggling on with a mouthful of dry pastry and soggy stodge. To wash it down I went to a newsagents for a can of Orangina (39p).
Overall, I had no major gripes with Big Dada's - it hit the spot, eventually, and I got a discount after all - but as I continued up the hill I felt the pastry/seasoning/filling ratio needed minor adjustment to justify the regular £1.50 pricetag.
Big Dada's BBQ, Finsbury Park Station
Tuesday 14 April 2009
Saturday 4 April 2009
Talking cobblers, patty meltdown at Nag's Head
I woke up this morning to discover I'd lost the heel of my left shoe.*
So today I took said damaged sole to a key cutter/trophy engraver based in the covered market on the corner of Seven Sisters Road/Holloway Road, north London. When I got there, the man in behind the counter, who had a physique resembling a rugby ball, was preoccupied with sculpting a doorkey. Not wanting to distract him I sheepishly placed my stinking Balmoral on the counter, pointed to the heel, and hoped for the best. Clocking me, he yelled 'Alright mate, come back in an hour!' from the back of the workshop. I think he got it.
So with an hour to spare, and a dazzling sun in the sky, I decided to go to work on rooting out the best takeaway on the Holloway Nag's Head junction. The streets were alive with early summer heat and floods of Friday afternoon A1 traffic. The fine weather and last-day-of-term buzz brought out the best in everyone: schoolkids, commuters, workmen, geriatrics, Community Support Officers, even three old blokes that stood outside the bookmakers staring into middle-distance seemed to be having a good time.
My first port of call was the Percy Ingle Cafe on Holloway Road. Despite having a teapot on its signage Percy Ingle is really more of a bakery than cafe. It's glass shelves are full of breads, muffins, spongecakes, doughnuts, and pastries - it obviously caters for the calorific sweet-tooth. I wasn't sure this place could provide what I hankered for, and when I asked the red-faced lady behind the counter if she sold samosas, she became flustered and yelped 'Who!?!', as if I'd uttered some dreaded codeword. I tried to reassure her, told her not to worry, thanked her for her troubles and moved on. Back to the junction.
As the name suggests, Manhattan Bagels just up Seven Sisters Road does a big line in ring shaped bread rolls - you can get virtually any savoury filling you want here. My only gripe with shops like these is that I'm sometimes unsure about their pre-prepared filled bagels (those wrapped in clingfilm). Several times I've bitten into a dry/stale bagel stored in this way. Best to go for something off the menu I suggest, or add an slightly offkey filling (eg. smoked salmon, cream cheese, and cucumber) then you'll get fresh bread from top of the pile, and you see it all being put together for yourself. You can always take the unwanted ingredient out. Something else to note about this cafe is that there always seems to be two elderly Italian men sitting at a table here, sipping coffees and watching the world go by.
I ended up going to J's Supreme Cuisine, a Carribean catering trailer parked in front of the Holloway Road Seven Day Adventist Church. This kiosk has been a fixture at Nag's Head for many years. I got chatting to the lady proprietor who told me how she was fundraising for a children's charity and how she was looking forward to the weekend. She was full of life and seemed to have many regular customers from the college nearby. After checking the menu against my change I asked for one of her finest saltfish patties and a portion of macaroni cheese. Out they came, served with a smile. I bit into the patty first, it was good, evenly spiced warm filling, with tender pastry. The macaroni cheese was worth it too - a big slab for £1. It could have done with a sprinkling more seasoning perhaps, but no major qualms. A veritable energy boost for the stroll back to pick up my repaired footwear.
Sipping a can of 7up on my way to collect my shoe from the rugby-ball shaped cobbler, I basked in the knowledge that I'd only scratched the surface on a world streetfood on this fine London junction.
*I'd unexpectedly become involved in a frenzied effort to rescue a pair of small dogs with extremely waggly tails that were scampering around at 3am on the disheveled streets of Camden Town. Our good intentions were misconstrued by the authorities as an attempt to kidnap somebody's beloved pets. Rest assured, the dogs have since made it safely back to their alarmed owners.
So today I took said damaged sole to a key cutter/trophy engraver based in the covered market on the corner of Seven Sisters Road/Holloway Road, north London. When I got there, the man in behind the counter, who had a physique resembling a rugby ball, was preoccupied with sculpting a doorkey. Not wanting to distract him I sheepishly placed my stinking Balmoral on the counter, pointed to the heel, and hoped for the best. Clocking me, he yelled 'Alright mate, come back in an hour!' from the back of the workshop. I think he got it.
So with an hour to spare, and a dazzling sun in the sky, I decided to go to work on rooting out the best takeaway on the Holloway Nag's Head junction. The streets were alive with early summer heat and floods of Friday afternoon A1 traffic. The fine weather and last-day-of-term buzz brought out the best in everyone: schoolkids, commuters, workmen, geriatrics, Community Support Officers, even three old blokes that stood outside the bookmakers staring into middle-distance seemed to be having a good time.
My first port of call was the Percy Ingle Cafe on Holloway Road. Despite having a teapot on its signage Percy Ingle is really more of a bakery than cafe. It's glass shelves are full of breads, muffins, spongecakes, doughnuts, and pastries - it obviously caters for the calorific sweet-tooth. I wasn't sure this place could provide what I hankered for, and when I asked the red-faced lady behind the counter if she sold samosas, she became flustered and yelped 'Who!?!', as if I'd uttered some dreaded codeword. I tried to reassure her, told her not to worry, thanked her for her troubles and moved on. Back to the junction.
As the name suggests, Manhattan Bagels just up Seven Sisters Road does a big line in ring shaped bread rolls - you can get virtually any savoury filling you want here. My only gripe with shops like these is that I'm sometimes unsure about their pre-prepared filled bagels (those wrapped in clingfilm). Several times I've bitten into a dry/stale bagel stored in this way. Best to go for something off the menu I suggest, or add an slightly offkey filling (eg. smoked salmon, cream cheese, and cucumber) then you'll get fresh bread from top of the pile, and you see it all being put together for yourself. You can always take the unwanted ingredient out. Something else to note about this cafe is that there always seems to be two elderly Italian men sitting at a table here, sipping coffees and watching the world go by.
I ended up going to J's Supreme Cuisine, a Carribean catering trailer parked in front of the Holloway Road Seven Day Adventist Church. This kiosk has been a fixture at Nag's Head for many years. I got chatting to the lady proprietor who told me how she was fundraising for a children's charity and how she was looking forward to the weekend. She was full of life and seemed to have many regular customers from the college nearby. After checking the menu against my change I asked for one of her finest saltfish patties and a portion of macaroni cheese. Out they came, served with a smile. I bit into the patty first, it was good, evenly spiced warm filling, with tender pastry. The macaroni cheese was worth it too - a big slab for £1. It could have done with a sprinkling more seasoning perhaps, but no major qualms. A veritable energy boost for the stroll back to pick up my repaired footwear.
Sipping a can of 7up on my way to collect my shoe from the rugby-ball shaped cobbler, I basked in the knowledge that I'd only scratched the surface on a world streetfood on this fine London junction.
*I'd unexpectedly become involved in a frenzied effort to rescue a pair of small dogs with extremely waggly tails that were scampering around at 3am on the disheveled streets of Camden Town. Our good intentions were misconstrued by the authorities as an attempt to kidnap somebody's beloved pets. Rest assured, the dogs have since made it safely back to their alarmed owners.
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