Leftovers #90
A perfect long lunch in Shoreditch; the Beaujolais you need to try; an essay on summer crushes (open to free subscribers 4 one week only)
Long newsletter so short intro: I got two rolls of film developed. I had no idea what they were. One was from around 1997 from my brother’s camera, featuring snow-covered images of our family garden and me in the spot behind the woods I still go to now (see below for my snow bunny era). The other was from a trip to the Lake District in 2021 to celebrate my 30th birthday pre-heartbreak. Funny how long you can go without thinking about something or someone and then it suddenly takes over your body, holding you hostage for a little while.
Thinking
– About cooking this cottage cheese bread; growing green garlic at home; and eating a harissa honey chicken caesar salad.
– Whether being called wholesome is an insult (millennial reaction) or a compliment (Gen Z reaction), which is prompting my next Sunday essay.
– Cookie Mueller’s book title, “Walking Through Water In A Pool Painted Black”. My friend Tor introduced her to me – she’s adjacent to Eve Babitz but more of a roaming vagrant, telling stories from her erratic life lived across Baltimore, BC, San Francisco, Massachusetts and New York.
– About my car Paddy (RIP!), to whom I wrote a love letter in my latest newsletter:
Cooking
I’m the sort of home cook that relies on one or two ingredients across a period of time. This week it’s been tahini, which I’ve been drizzling on toast smeared with Bon Maman apricot conserve in lieu of peanut butter (I ran out and it was too windy to leave the house), and also in this pasta dish that brings that tahini’d nutty creaminess with tart preserved lemons, oil-slicked softened garlic and plenty of butter. Like midnight pasta but more complicated. I call it:
Also Rancho Gordo whipple beans brought all the way from Los Angeles to London thanks to my friend Sophia. I knife peeled the zest of half a good Sicilian lemon and added the rinds to my bean pot – it gave it such a fresh and bright flavour. No need to discard the lemon rinds - they sort of melted right into the broth. Added leftover roast chicken to my brothy beans with a heavy garnish of my kinda gremolata (chop up a small handful of dill, chives, 1/2 a red chilli and 1 small preserved lemon, add to a bowl with 2 tsp of preserved lemon juice and 1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil and a little pinch of salt, stir - add more liquid as you see fit) and some tangy barrel-aged feta (I think Waitrose does the best feta that’s not horrifically expensive – if you want that, you’ll need to get the Graceburn feta marinated in oil).
Reading
The Tyranny Of The Algorithm: Why Every Coffee Shop Looks The Same – The Guardian
This piece has been doing the rounds online, and as someone who is morbidly fascinated with the flattening of culture, I liked Kyle Chayka’s take on how the internet and all its trappings has proliferated the homogenous aesthetic that we recognise, buy into and then criticise. He goes on to discuss how it’s connected to our collective obsession with optimisation and ease; craving seamlessness and a smoothing out of any bumps in the road. And how this aesthetic leaked out of our screens and into our physical world, only to be soaked back up by it – and the cycle continues.
The elements of style turned out to be less important than the fundamental homogeneity, which became more and more entrenched. The signs changed, evolving one step at a time over the years, but the sameness stayed the same. It was this sameness that was off-putting, rather than this or that element of the style itself. Homogeneity in a diverse world is uncanny. There could be a disappointment with finding the expected aesthetic in yet another place, as well as a sense of intrusion, that the influence of digital platforms was extending somewhere that it had not previously.
Dining
I’m pulling away from the London restaurant scene, mainly because it’s January and I’m slightly jaded. But I made a reservation at Bistro Freddie before Christmas for lunch with a couple of friends. I didn’t want to like it. It’s been very hyped and I’ve heard lots of mixed reviews but honestly I loved it. I did, admittedly, have great dining partners, but the food was excellent and I thought the Friday lunch time atmosphere was really great. The white paper clothed tables and liberal drinking at 1pm around (and including) us had that late 90s/early 00s feel about it, and as you know – I’m a sucker for nostalgia.
I had two glasses of the grenache which was light with a touch of richness – and went great with the gravy-soaked oxtail and Guinness pie that we shared between three (plus chips, creamed spinach and perfectly charred cabbage on the most delicious tahini butter with hazelnuts). For starters we had leeks covered in a room temp gribiche (sort of like a looser, thinner egg mayo) as well as the house sausage with a homemade relish that tasted like a cross between hoisin and brown sauce. Don’t sleep on the desserts; we shared the poached rhubarb sundae (tart! Fresh! Light! Creamy! Crunchy caramel twill!) and the sticky toffee pudding (indulgent! Rich! Oh so sticky!).
For about £50 a head I thought it was fairly reasonable (London brain), and would definitely go back again. I feel like it would be quite a sexy dinner date spot but I have such a fondness for late lunches in places like this.
Drinking
– Light, bright, a little tart but with enough body to hold up in the cold weather. Best when naturally chilled by a journey across London in freezing temperatures (otherwise pop it in the fridge for an hour). We drank the bottle with a garlic-forward meal of roast chicken, beans simmered in the chicken juices and a lime-miso vinaigrette Castelfranco salad. You can buy it by the case here, or individually here.
Following
If you, like me, have a penchant for modernist wood-clad Los Angeles real estate that you’ll never be able to afford, you should be following Sara Kaye, whose job it is to scope out, visit and sell these absolute beauts:
Watching
My friend Rosianna kindly took me to see a preview of American Fiction earlier this week. It was such a great satire of how myopic the publishing industry can be, reducing people of colour to stories that ignore their breadth and full humanity. But it’s, like, funny. Hilarious, in fact. One part family drama, one part comedy that doesn’t just criticise the industry and its blinkered system but what it does to the people who play a role in upholding it. Go see! (It’s out on 2nd Feb)
Listening
Forgot about this playlist I made that has been soundtracking my working days:
Love the music you shared! And the writing! Now is that a griled gem lettuce you have shared? Or what is it!? Bonne Maman Apricot preserve is the best. I use it fir Sacher Torte! Even when those chunky fruit bits make it uneven…