Ye Olde Panny-cakey

Pancakes. You would have to be a complete asshole not to like them. What's not to like?! They are fluffy, friendly, sweet little circles of joy that can be embellished with anything from fruit to chocolate or yoghurt to ice cream. Ok, so if you don't like sweet things, you're kind of forgiven, not so much forgiven, but I'll at least understand your argument, and feign acceptance. 

I like to think of pancakes as being like one of the Latin European languages, and Latin as a metaphor for their ingredients. French, Italian & Spanish all have Latin roots; Pancakes, Crepes & Pikelets share the same base ingredients, and although they're distinctly different, they really are part of the same family.

I had a go at making American style pancakes for the first time, which are much fluffier than the standard. Once complete, I finished them with bananas, strawberries, blueberries, icing sugar, Greek yoghurt & a drizzle of manuka honey for that distinctly wild New Zealand flavour. Perfection.

I also have to give a little thanks to my formerly local Hackney cafe; Mouse & De Lotz, for inspiring me to make my own pancakes, because I was thrilled when they brought  theirs out in this little cast iron skillet, it's just too cute. 

Another Hackney café (or Islington if you want to be über pedantic) that's making some sexxxy pancakes (and naturally, amazing coffee) is Tina We Salute You. I had the pleasure of rediscovering physalis berries via their pancakes, as it's the crown jewel on the cascade of fruit. (I had my own photograph of these pancakes, but my camera got stolen before I could download it, so this photo is borrowed from City Owls)

Upon receiving these pancakes, I rushed to the barista to ask if she knew what this mystery fruit was called, babbling and probably looking slightly maniacal, I explained that I was just excited because I had only ever seen physalis once when I was 8 years old on a summer holiday in Motueka, & it was extremely nostalgic to bump into what I had almost believed to be a figment of my childhood imagination. Strangely enough, she knew exactly what I was going through, as she also hadn't seen them for about 10 years until she started working at TWSY, but fondly remembers eating them a lot as a young girl when visiting her Grandma to South Australia. Stories about Grandmas and physalis. Better than Grandmas with syphilis. Definitely better.

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Tiki Taster - Pacific Social Club

When winter arrives, & London turns it's lights down, it becomes one fuck of a dreary place. The sky turns to stone, the grey expanse of tenement houses & asphalt roads all unite in drab homogeny. Grey, dark, dark, grey. Just as you're giving oral sex to a shotgun, ready to paint the skyline with your own grey matter, you remember that other people have been feeling the same way in this city for centuries, & that some have had the initiative to craft escape-pods, incubators & time machines to hide from the oppressive dark seasons. Nestled in a Hackney side street, I found my own little parallel world to escape the London doldrums. Pacific Social Club is an all in one incubator/time machine/escape pod. Stepping into this little cafe, father-time's whip was suddenly too short to reach my back, I felt calm away from the hustle & bustle, I was at ease amongst the colourful bunting, 78-sleeve wallpaper, pacific island tiki carvings, wood panel transistor radios, the LP player wooing me with it's warm analogue patter, the gentle clatter of antique cups & saucers, straight out of a time-warp. This felt like home, & I didn't want to leave.

Now it's all very well & good having a carefully crafted aesthetic, but it can easily look trite or hackneyed (double-entendre) in an age where "vintage" is the old new. This place not only brims with authenticity, but it has two other key ingredients which really give it the trifecta: friendly staff, & most importantly, great food. I was fairly ravenous when I arrived, as I hadn't had breakfast or lunch, & it was already 1pm. I settled in to the Venezuelan sandwich with chorizo, beans, avocado & cheese. This toasted treat was so packed with flavour, I had to curse Jesus aloud. Once my savoury craving was satisfied, I whet my appetite on the carrot cake with cream cheese icing (it might have had cinnamon on the icing, I think?), to be honest I was still so blinded by the afterglow of that toastie, that I could've been spooning dogshit into my gob & still been happy, but nah, the carrot cake was actually great too. In the word of California's former Governor, I'll be back...Pacific Social Club...

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Wilton Way Cafe

I've been in need of a sleep in all week, and after a relatively early night following Plaid's album release for Scintilli, it was exactly what I got. Peeling my lazy carcass out of bed this morning, I went about the kitchen in search of victuals. It was Old Mother Hubbard all over again, I was hungry & angry, but decided to forget about grocery shopping for breakfast & just set out on my bike in search of a delicious lunch (it was no longer morning, & I was about to rape someone if I didn't get a coffee). I had remembered that Wilton Way cafe near London Fields had been recommended by Time Out a while back, so it seemed like the perfect destination to venture on an empty stomach.

Now, I'll be honest, I approach many places around London Fields with an air of caution, as it's well known as a spawning ground for annoying, vacuous, trendy-cunts...not an ideal crowd if you're starving & about to brave the public to breakfast alone. I had every hope that this wouldn't be the case at Wilton Way Cafe...and thank fucking god it wasn't! I was greeted by an affable young lass at the counter who was not only friendly, but patient with my misreading of the menu (I had asked for the chorizo, rocket & roast capsicum on sourdough instead of ciabatta, but she told me I could have it on sourdough if I wanted, which I did want!). The interior of the cafe is beautifully styled with warm raw-wooden furniture & floors, corrugated iron, white walls, colourful DEVOesque lampshades & their own radio station apparently!

There is a variety of seating to accomodate people eating/drinking alone or in groups, & there is natural light coming from both ends of the cafe, as well as a few tables street-side. My flat white arrived, after my first sip, I was convinced who ever was at the controls of their machine must have divinity in their DNA, because it was PERFECT. Next up, my sourdough, chorizo, rocket, capsicum sandwich. It was almost bordering on epic in size, & everything tasted super fresh. It was delicious, & also very well priced (I got at least a few pound change from a tenner for the lot). The whole package of this place had me quite tickled; the staff, the food, the atmosphere - Time Out was really on the money with this review, & will be revisiting for sure. Well done Wilton Way Cafe.
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