Firstly, Bank Holiday readers, let me assure you that I am a reliable source of culinary information + restaurant industry goss. Because – It may shock you to learn – I was once an eminent London food blogger, regularly writing lulzy reviews that could easily receive upwards of 15 visitors per post. As I usually only constituted about 9 of those visits myself, I was actually one of the top 3000 food blogs in the city.
Despite this success, I soon had a realisation that caused me to stop the whole thing. I was all set to go to a trendy street-food event in Dalston when I received a Skype from my old man. When I told him I was heading to an East End parking lot full of transit vans and white people, all of whom would be surreptitiously taking photos of the event, he naturally assumed that I was heading to watch some pikeys punch the shit out of each other in a bare-knuckle boxing tournament.
Then it hit me. Life’s too short to write about something as trivial as food. I should be focusing on the myriad tribes that stitch our great country together through unique rituals and tradition. A bit like when Jonathan Meades stopped reviewing restaurants for theThe Times and started making shows about povos in Essex for BBC 4 instead.
While I may not be narrating acerbic docs for a culturally enriched TV audience, I have become pretty skilled at including Meek Mill Lyrics in stories I’ve plagiarised off Gawker, so I feel the career (lol) change was worth it. Yet the recent surge in discussion over London eateries has inspired me to set the record straight on the city’s best grub-zones. Mainly due to my extensive knowledge of London cuisine, but also because you guys are the best <3. So listen up, because the food Tupac Back, and I’m about to reveal The Hottest (restaurants) in the City. You best Believe It.
STR8 LOST IN THAT REETO BOI
Despite London’s worrying lack of Mexicans, there are still a bunch of passable latino dishes all over town, like those tacos from Wahaca or the Margaritas from Vodka Revs. Wahaca is a perfectly acceptable place, and is usually full of enfuego babes on sophisticated day trips from Hertfordshire. However the portions are too small, meaning you’ll never balloon to a waist-size necessitating a pair of XXXL Dickies shorts. No XXXL workwear = no es authentico mexicano gringo! I’ve also heard that there’s a high end Mexican ‘bodega’ in Soho, with no name on the door and a long waiting list.
Unfortunately, anything Mexican that possesses an air of exclusivity isn’t Mexican at all, you only have to see how far $20 will get you in a bar in Tijuana to know that. So my first pick goes to Chipotle, the delicious burrito chain. Like the state of Texas or the Sheen family, America stole the humble burrito from Mexico and made it way better. There’s no finer example of this improvement than Chipotle, where the friendly staff load your tortilla with traditional mexican flavours, then muscle it up with chill American shit like cheddar cheese and Corona.
My fave Chipotle spot is the one next to all the theatres on Charing X road because it’s always full of tourists. What better validates a restaurant’s quality than people travelling from all over the world just to visit it?! A quick warning to all you latin lotharios out there tho. NEVER TAKE A BISH HERE: There’s a reason ChiBROtle is a muy serioso festival de chorizo, and that’s because no lady wants to stuff a kilo of sloppy pork into her mouth for £8. However, if she does seem willing to do this, she may be willing to perform similar acts between the sheets. You know what I’m talking about! Dios mio!
Lads + Spoons + banter = preservation of public health services
Did you know that Wetherspoon’s gives a healthy discount to all NHS staff? Do you think doctors and nurses would still be able to get 25% off Tuborg and Mixed Grills if David Cameron successfully sells the NHS to private companies piece by piece? I doubt it, and god knows how they’d handle the stresses of their jobs without discounted gammon and cut-price Monster Jagerbombs. By going to Spoons you’re making a political stand against the privatisation of our healthcare system while supporting the over-worked NHS staff. Even if you’re just going in there to hoover lines off the impeccably clean toilet seats.
Keeping it trim with Buxtonz son
Like Apple or BAE Systems, McD’s has stayed at the top by consistently putting out the best product on the market. While a Big Mac may not be as useful as an iPhone or as cool as a carpet-bombing, it’s just as reliable – and much quicker. I wouldn’t waste my time queuing for hours at Honest Burger in Brixton Village; I’m not a busy man at all, but I at least want to feign the kind of urgency that suggests I’ve a job that negates certain luxuries – like waiting for food: “Hey that guy doesn’t have time to queue. He must be too busy making bank. I hope he’s single”.
Instead, I’d pop to the 24 hour McD’s across the street, get 2 Quarter-Pounders (aka Q-£s) with 20 McNuggets, and take comfort in the fact that I’ll be able to get this same meal here everyday for the rest of my life if I so pleased. This is particularly soothing if you’ve realised that your lack of skills mean you have no prospect of financial mobility like me, and McDonald’s may be your only eating-out option for as long as you live. McD’s also allows you creative types to really experiment with the menu: A day doesn’t go by where my m8 and I don’t mention the LOLs we would get on Youtube if we filmed each other attempting to eat 100 nuggets. We just haven’t got around to trying it yet! :p
I BE LIKE THEIR SON AT MORLEY’S NAH MEAN
Morley’s is a British institution, particularly if you consider Britain to encompass Peckham, Catford, Brixton, Lewisham and the greater Croydon area. As I’ve now been ‘Freelance’ in my Peckham house for about 6 weeks, SE15 has become my Albion, and I am a little boy lost in Morley’s Fried Chicken. For a reason that I’m not quite sure of, the franchise on Brixton High Street really takes Morley’s reputation to a new level. Maybe it’s the increased competition caused by that show on Channel 4 about Rooster’s in Clapham. But Roosters is full of trannies and Australians, whereas Morley’s in Brixton is full of safe bros skinning up massive zoots with their wings and chips:
STFU Channel 4 Way 2 Faded 4 Lyf
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