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.

The Bell and Brisket, Soho

I'm not trying to make a habit out of it, honest, yet I can’t help but notice that my blogs frequently extend beyond the boundaries of linguistic decency. Two thousand words might be fitting for an obituary to Marie Colvin but possibly not for a post that can essentially be summarised as “Pitt Cue Co good” or “Newpub in East London bad.” In the end, it turns out that there are things in life more important than eating, even if people like me are generally loathe to admit it. So in the interest of not punishing reader’s attention spans – and the fact that a ‘waste liquid removal’ is presently encamped next to me outside The Euston Tap – here’s an exercise in marginal brevity.

The Bell and Brisket is a new salt beef pop-up run out of the The Queen’s Head in Soho and it is very good indeed. At £7.50 for a sandwich or around a tenner including chips, it’s not the cheapest sandwich in town, but it is one of the best and a reasonable price for a sit-down lunch: an overly generous pile of juicy, well-seasoned brisket spilling out of one of the UK’s better attempts at rye, topped with liberal amounts of gherkin and an ample spreading of English mustard. American mustard, of course, would have been preferable as it is mild enough to be applied in industrial quantities, but after the first bite I honestly forgot about my lone compositional quibble. 

The pub itself was a more than ample venue for London’s latest great pop-up: a small but well-kept establishment that featured a very good guest ale and a decent take on the capital’s latest drinks craze, the pickleback. Not quite up to the standard of Pitt Cue’s dangerously moreish beetroot brine version, but nevertheless a thoroughly enjoyable if potentially inappropriate lunchtime digestif. Of course, it should really have been a bourbon rather than Jamesons, but possessing the shamrock streak that I do, I’m hardly one to complain.

There's no doubt that I'll be back. Not only is the simple concept of a proper sandwich in a proper pub such a rarity on these shores, but salt beef is an especially hard number to master, especially if New York delis are used as your benchmark. Perhaps pop-up formulas are the remedy because these guys got it seriously right. The last eye-opening meat-and-bread combination I got in a pub was at The Jeremy Bentham, one of my former employers, where the Kiwi landlady knocks out an audacious meatloaf, mustard, and beetroot number. Thankfully, it looks like she’s finally got some real competition in the centre of town. Here's to hoping there's more to come from intrepid sandwich artists like The Bell and Brisket this year.

Chula Fused Foods, London

So-called fusion food rarely impresses me. Partly, this is because it’s a label that is abused nearly as badly as the gastropub designation: liberally distribute sweet chili sauce, coconut milk, and harissa across your menu and apparently you’re serving up a culinary revolution. Yet at its best, fusion really can work and is capable of elevating food to new heights. One of my most memorable dining experiences in London was at The Providores, while probably the best restaurant meal I can remember (admittedly, there are some I can’t) was at Paris’s Ze Kitchen Gallerie.

Balancing flavours that don’t normally happily co-habit the same kitchen, let alone plate, is a delicate art. As a result, it’s something that you’d think is ill-suited to the rough and ready street food scene. Yet anyone who has sampled a Korean-style slider at Kimchi Cult will tell you that this is not an iron rule. Sticking to the basics and doing the simple things very well, anything is possible anywhere. If ever this conviction needed validation, then my experience last Saturday at a slightly bitty new churchyard market on a mind-numbingly miserable afternoon provided it in droves.

Like burgers, I have a bit of a fetish for burritos. And like the market for beef patties, London’s burrito scene is getting increasingly saturated. That’s not at all a bad thing – I’d honestly like it so saturated that there was a Burger & Lobster or Lucky Chip on every corner. But it does mean that the excitement value that came with, say, the brief appearance of #Meateasy in New Cross is slightly diminished. So while I’m itching to get me a Mother Flipper down in Brockley, too many more bright young burgers and I won’t be able to make the most of finally having Ben Denner’s creations on my doorstop. So too with the great Tex-Mex export. On the street, it’s pretty much neck and neck between Luardos and Daddy Donkey; in the bricks and mortar realm, there’s a plethora of options, with Chilango and Benito’s Hat being particularly memorable, and Tortilla especially bad, of late.

I don’t eat as many burritos as I do burgers, so I’m less assertive when it comes to declaring what kitchen produces London’s best. At the same time, my wet-socked Saturday afternoon jaunt through the new Hackney Homemade FOOD market and, more specifically, my munch at Chula Fused Foods may just have provided me with the answer, or at least an opinion on the matter. For sure, Vinod Patel, Chula’s head honcho, makes a mean-ass burrito. It showcases both his Indian roots and his appreciation of the form, which he developed in San Francisco and honed during a stint at Chipotle in London. More than that, it’s a thoroughly well-developed concept. If you think about it, there’s no reason why the burrito, when you strip it down – rice, beans, and slow-cooked meat in a tortilla – wouldn’t translate perfectly to an Indian reinterpretation, as all the ingredients are staples of (or closely related to staples of) the sub-continental dinner table.

The Market Porter & Brindisa Grill, Borough

On my most recent trip to Borough Market, I found myself in a reflective mood, contemplating some of life's big questions. Chief among these: is there a better real ale pub in London than The Market Porter? Regulars at The White Horse in Parson’s Green will surely stand up for their local. My boss at The Jerusalem Tavern might well draw up a rap sheet laden with various treason-related charges. And sure, The Euston Tap, Rake Bar, and Craft Beer Co all offer a more diverse and eclectic drinking experience. But for a classic pub atmosphere and an immense selection of rare ales that you’re unlikely to find anywhere else in a major metropolis – a recent visit turned up Harvey’s Bonfire Boy, which I’ve previously only ever encountered in the brewery’s hometown of Lewes...on Bonfire Night – it’s hard to argue with. But I sincerely hope you do, as I always love an excuse to go check out a new boozer.

And also: where do you find the best sandwich in London? Quite possibly at the Brindisa grill just over the road. Open lunchtime Tuesday through Saturday, it serves chorizo sandwiches and only chorizo sandwiches: sweet red piquillo peppers contrasting with the spicy, top-quality sausage still sizzling from the grill, everything stuffed into a soft toasted ciabatta roll and brought together with a simple drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and finished with some crisp rocket. There are various, semi-comfortable places to perch outside the MP where you can drink and munch your meaty masterpiece free from persecution, a really attractive proposition in June if not December.  If it came smeared with a good glob of alioli, it would almost certainly top the John Montagu list. It might do anyways – at least until I finally get my hands on one of Mark Gerveux’s creations. Or until someone says: "Hang on you pleb! What about that place that serves the amazing bánh mì out in East..."

The Market Porter and Brindisa Chorizo Grill, Borough Market, Stoney Street side, SE1