Alley Katsu, Hackney Central

With the original burger van maverick, Yianni Papoutsis, looking forward to a second bricks and mortar joint, Lucky Chip soon to set up shop in Soho, Big Apple Hot Dogs popping up everywhere, and The Ribman slinging his infamous Holy Fuck hot sauce as far as America and Australia, London’s street food scene certainly isn’t short on success stories to inspire would-be purveyors of pavement-based gastronomic goodness. Of course, this also means that new arrivals have a certain standard to live up to and, fortunately, the latest wave of mobile eats pushers has, like their predecessors, got the good shit on lockdown.

Recently, I grabbed a cheeky chunk of Al’s lunch from the Well Kneaded Wagon, who offer a kind of flatbread-style twist on wood-fired pizza. In this case, it was a simple yet subtly imaginative and ludicrously effective combination of beetroot, parsley pesto, watercress, and goat’s cheese. Fresh, light, and zingy beyond belief, the quality of the sourdough base and the effect of a proper oven really brought out every last flavour. Similarly, Chula Fused Foods offer a fresh take on that street food classic, the burrito, staying true to the formula but infusing each aspect with well-spiced sub-continental warmth. But while the Well Kneaded Wagon enjoys a fairly wide audience as a result of their eat.st @ King’s Cross appearances, and Vinny of Chula puts in a gruelling four day shift at various locations, it is perhaps the unassuming Alley Katsu that has impressed me the most of late.

Currently trading only on Saturday at the new Hackney Homemade FOOD market, I first encountered their wares a couple of weeks back and was immediately smitten. It really blew me away, so much so that my subsequent tray of Buen Provecho tacos seemed almost lacklustre by comparison. The premise is simple enough: Japanese katsu curries with chicken, prawn, or pumpkin, served in a wrap or with rice. Yet the attention to detail elevates this otherwise humble concept to the upper echelons of London street food.

Al went the more authentic route, opting for an ebi (prawn) katsu wrap. It was one skanking fat rolled up sandwich and she faced a Herculean task trying to enjoy it whilst fending off unwanted attention from both myself and my camera. Readers please note that I only get away with this shit because she’s resigned herself to it after two years. In reality, trying to photograph then eat half of a date’s meal must be a fast rising new entry on the list of Most Bell Endish Ways to put off a romantic interest. That said, I couldn’t really help myself. Proving that street food really is the new crack, I was craving more after just one bite and had to preserve the memory.

The subtly spiced curry sauce was notably deep in flavour and luxuriously silky smooth, while their homemade sweet chili sauce fully highlighted the benefits of composing foodstuffs from scratch. Bearing no resemblance to the sickly sweet, nuclear orangey-pink sludge that accompanies prawn crackers from shady take-aways and otherwise good restaurants alike, Alley Katsu’s version was a much darker, deep red colour and actually packed an OK punch, fully deserving to have the word ‘chili’ in its title. It was enough to pep up my bulldozed taste senses whilst not overwhelming Al’s far more sensible palate.

Mushu, Warren St.

During my brief spell under the tutelage of Time Out’s Guy Dimond at City University, I remember writing up a little place called Wagamama, my first ever review. Either London’s dining scene circa 2004 was at an all-time low, or my recently relocated teenage self was overly excitable when it came to flavours not commonly found in chicken wings or clam chowder. I was reminded of this wide-eyed Massachusetts yokel moment the other day whilst on a lunch date with Al. Chowing down on dumplings and other assorted pan-Asian goodies at Mushu, I remembered how eye-opening a Japanese meal that didn’t feature raw fish seemed back then. As is often the case, this sense of nostalgia existed solely in my over-fed mind – the only tangible resemblances it bore to Alan Yau’s 21^st century Japanese Wimpy Bar was the communal seating and the availability of karaage. 

For Mushu is far superior to the large room above Urban Outfitters on Kensington High Street where I had my first encounter with katsu curry and gyoza – not that that’s saying much. It’s not fine dining by any stretch of the imagination, but it is some of the better fast food I’ve had in this or any other city, the sort of place I wish was on every street corner and in every neighbourhood. The dumplings arrived in less time than it takes McDonalds to accommodate a ‘hold the tomatoes’ request and they were very good dumplings indeed. Possibly not quite on a par with Silk Road but still better than many a dim sum joint in this town. Classic pork and cabbage (top) were reassuringly simple and pillow soft, while beef and kimchi pot-stickers (bottom) had developed the right, slightly chewy texture on the underside and the filling was rich enough to hold its own against their special Szechuan hot sauce. Though the sauce wasn’t as authentically spiced as I would have liked, it was a pleasant, light brow-mopping heat that complemented the fuller-flavoured dumplings whilst not overpowering the more delicate ones.

Real Ale and Rockin' Blues Festival, Sebright Arms, Bethnal Green

One of the hazards of formally announcing the arrival of Britain’s craft beer revolution is that it puts heaps of pressure on the business and small upstarts in particular. It’s a double-edged sword. Healthy competition and a desire to stand out by way of genuine innovation is obviously a good thing, but there’s also a danger of stagnation: either dozens of Brew Dog clones announcing themselves, or long spells with nothing worth shouting about because potential brewers don’t want to risk paling into comparison to the Scottish mavericks. At present, these are thankfully just minor unfounded fears to bear in mind for the future, as a recent tasting of three new London microbreweries revealed the next wave of the capital’s craft brews to match the quality of their predecessors.

The star of my Saturday afternoon spent drinking – ahem, researching - at last weekend’s Real Ale and Rockin’ Blues Festival at the Sebright Arms near Bethnal Green was undoubtedly the Weird Beard Brew Co’s Single Hop No.7 Summit IPA. Lightly hazy in colour due to the dry hopping process, its subtle nose belied a truly explosive palate: slightly sweet and delicately floral, it was packed with exotic fruit flavours. Perhaps it’s just my imagination, but I was getting serious hits of kiwi and guava from that bad boy. Comparisons are lazy but inevitable: its quality couldn’t help but remind me of some of Kernel’s single hop offerings, but don’t get me wrong, this was no mere knock off. It was as fresh, unique, and vibrant a bottled beer as I have had the pleasure to sup in a long time, and if this effort is anything to judge by, then Weird Beard Brew Co look a good bet to take a seat in Britain’s pantheon of elite craft brewers.

The London Drinker Beer and Cider Festival, nr King's Cross

Most people who have shared a drink with me will know that I have an ambivalent attitude towards CAMRA, something that inhabits a bizarre psychic territory somewhere between a classic love/hate relationship and a blatant case of biting the hand that feeds. Frequently deriding those who help enable you to obtain something you desire – a quality pint - is contradictory at best and a bit mean, not to mention arrogant, at worst.  Perhaps it’s the fact that the real ale ultras are so opposed to keg beer, or maybe it’s just that my frequently sozzled mind needs on-going sources of light-hearted amusement. Much like Hackney’s hipster contingent (if they’re so offensive, why exactly did I move to East London again?), the CAMRA crew are a good bunch to poke fun at, especially when you moonlight as a bartender at a reputable pub specialising in cask beer. 

But whatever easy jokes and bold statements I make at their expense need always be mitigated by two admissions. Firstly, that they a thing or two about good beer, a beverage I am quite partial to. I have never been served a dud pint at a CAMRA endorsed or frequented establishment and I don’t believe I will anytime soon. And B, that it is entirely likely my beer belly will have one of their membership cards or t-shirts glued to in the next twenty years. A third indisputable statement is that they put on bloody good drinking events. 

The Great British Beer Festival is one of the highlights of any beer enthusiasts’ calendar, whatever stance they take on the Great Carbonation Debate. The selection of rare American bottles alone is enough to keep me going back year in, year out. Now, I don’t know whether the London Drinker Beer & Cider Festival is a long-standing occurrence or a new invention and frankly I don’t care. But what must be said is that it’s as comprehensive a selection of top-quality ales as the capital is likely to see until SW5 in August and a must visit for all crusaders of the pint.

Granted, when CAMRA members congregate in such large numbers, the atmosphere often makes me wish I was locked inside an abattoir with a mentally unstable, pissed up pig farmer. And the venue itself, like the Earl’s Court Exhibition Centre, isn’t exactly character personified. In fact, if Earl’s Court resembles an abandoned sweatshop, then the Camden Centre is somewhere between a dilapidated masonic lodge and a slightly grand AA venue. But the epic selection of beer enables me to happily relax in this otherwise unremarkable environment.

Camden Town Brewery Bar

Along with the venerable Brew Dog, Camden Town Brewery is one of the leading ambassadors for Britain’s burgeoning craft beer scene, their wares now commonly stocked in good London boozers. Fortunately for the capital’s microbrew fanboys, a full range of their beers will soon be available straight from the vat when they launch an on-site bar later this month. Saturday they opened their doors to offer a taster of what is to come, and while it was evident that a few finishing touches were needed here and there, the space and concept itself seemed well thought out. For one, they had gone through the trouble of recruiting the inimitable Big Apple Hot Dogs to sling stomach liners on the day, something that you cannot help but hope becomes a regular feature.

The outdoor space under the arches near Kentish Town West is hardly scenic, but it’s got bags of potential on a pleasant day, which Saturday was. There’s something reassuringly simple about supping a fresh brew seated on top of a keg near DIY wheelbarrow fires, the basic set up inviting you to focus on your drink rather than what pretentious song choice the Skins wannabe behind the bar is contemplating. Of course, the centrepiece of the day was the beers and, more specifically, their new limited release USA Hells. We managed to get through nearly everything on offer, from their supercharged Ink stout to their beautifully cloudy and floral Gentleman’s Wit by way of the perfectly refreshing American-style pale ale. Yet it was the USA Hells that I kept coming back to. Unfiltered and unpasteurized, it bore about as much relation to commercial lagers as Russia does to a democratic nation.

The lack of meddling, along with the juicy American hops, meant it almost resembles a kind of strange pale ale, wheat beer hybrid – tropical fruit flavours, especially grapefruit, were dominant and complimented amply by the subtly spicy hops, with a hint of bitterness on the finish reminding you that, yes, keg beer can be real beer. There’s little question that Camden Town favours more approachable styles of beer and this isn’t at all a bad thing. Not least, it encourages a more egalitarian drinking experience: more women tipped up to enjoy a bevvy in the early afternoon than probably pass through the Earl’s Court Exhibition Centre during the entire four days of the (totally awesome) Great British Beer Festival.  

That’s not to say that cask ale is or should be the sole preserve of obese middle age men - just that more where traditional methods and styles dominate, said demographic tend to congregate in especially large numbers, flocking to the dark mild end of the bar like paedophiles to playgrounds. Nor is the fairer sex inherently put off by the cask. Indeed, there's some great, forward-thinking real ale coming out of Britain at the moment, with Dark Star consistently good and Redemption a new favourite. But there's also a lot of lazy choices being made by brewers, publicans, and punters alike. So the growing diversity of the craft brewing scene can only be a positive omen as more and more drinkers - male and female - will be lured away from the tight grip of Carling. People can get hung up about technical distinctions between different kinds of beer and methods of brewing, but it really is as simple as good beer is real and real beer is good - presence or lack of carbonation is largely irrelevant.

Similarly, the range and inventiveness of somewhere like Brew Dog is pretty mind boggling, especially when you consume more than a couple of them. But sometimes you just want a tasty, easy-drinking beer – a lager even - that isn’t going to leave you knocking over chairs at your local and thinking that the rather special bottle of Icelandic porter you bought is a great match for a chicken doner. Camden Town Brewery fills this niche in style, their combination of classic German and more modern American influences proving an inspired synergy. Their new bar looks set to be a stellar addition to London’s reinvention as something of a discerning beer drinkers’ paradise.

Citrus and herb panko crusted red tilapia with bastardised nasi goreng

Weekends are a special time for culinary fanatics. Without the hustle and bustle of the working week to distract us, we are able to dig deep into the larder to eat something special or try something new. It’s when we whip out the liquid smoke, fire up the blow torch, and share our passion for food with those closest to us. In the Scavenger Gourmet kitchen, there’s inevitably a bit of tug-of-war that goes on: I crave fry-ups, steaks, and game stews, while Al usually wants something along the lines of poached seaweed with an air jus. Our efforts to compromise and maintain a relative amount of domestic harmony – as well as our passable environmental awareness – means that I find myself cooking a lot more fish these days.

Now, I’ve never been one of those people who always seems to fall back on the tested but tired routine of salmon with new potatoes and rocket salad: mackerel, sardines, monkfish, cod, swordfish, mussels, prawns, and scallops are all well within my comfort zone, and I like to think that I’ve got an especially deft hand when it comes to tuna. Even beleaguered salmon has its place as a quick mid-week supper – it is fantastic perched on top of some nice and light, primavera-style pasta and also works very well with couscous. But the fact that my at-home diet now almost resembles pescetarianism means that my weekend exploits are typically a matter of finding new ways to pervert the simple pleasure of fresh fish.

This weekend I wanted to distance myself from the usual suspects. A fun but gastronomically atrocious meal at Huong Viet in Dalston as part of the annual JT staff lash-up the weekend before left my mind flirting with exotic ideas. While I didn’t know exactly where this would lead me, a quick Google turned up a good guide for nasi goring, or Indonesian fried rice. Now, all I had to do was totally bastardize it.

As much as this post is largely driven by the fact that I was quite pleased with the relative success of my culinary exploits, it’s completely dependent on the Fin and Flounder fishmonger in Broadway Market, one of the jewels in Hackney’s gastronomic crown. It is the best urban fishmonger I have ever set in foot in by an Irish mile: the crustaceans are still moving, the fish have that awesome ‘I’ve just been whacked’ look in their eyes, and staff are effortlessly helpful as well as knowledgeable.

My aquatic local, The Fishery on Stoke Newington High Street, is highly commendable and great to have down the road. But comparing it to Fin and Flounder is like equating Huong Viet with Viet Grill. The Fishery isn’t nearly as bad as Huong Viet, of course, but the gap between the two is comparable. If you haven’t been, you owe it to yourself and whoever you’re frying Blinky up for to make the trip to London Fields. They’re open most of the week so you don’t even have to run the risk of being blinded by a hipster’s beard at the weekend. If these words of praise don’t convince you, then the following picture certainly should…