Thus far and no further

Seriously, just fuck off

Five pounds fucking 50 for a pint of lager! That was the astonishing deal I was bummed with on Saturday eve. I was meeting Mrs Biff for some grub in Shoreditch's trendy 'Shoreditch' and had 20 minutes to kill so nipped for a quick pint.
Found some gaff called the Redchurch Bar on Redchurch street. Looked okay inside, quite dark, lots of deep red furnishings. Gang of girls to the left as I went in, couple of blokes to the right, few people scattered around the back by the bar, to which I headed.
One pint of Sierra Nevada lager ordered and the fella drops the price bombshell on me, prompting the now customary 'how much?!'
He repeated the price and all I could stammer was 'why?'.
And it's a fair question - what possible business has anyone asking £5.50 for a pint? They've not even paused to admire the view from £4 a pint mountain - which is outrageous anyway - they've just hurtled on, busting straight through the previously-theoretical £5 a pint barrier and landed plum 'twixt a flim and six pounds UK.
I bought it like because I didn't want them thinking I was poor or a mingeo, both of which are true.

Fold

The thing with this gaff was, the crowd didn't look particularly well off or even very 'Shoreditch'. And there was at least one student in (I heard him talking about his course) so how can he afford to sup there?
This comes tepid on the heels of being charged £8-odd for a pint of Peroni and a small Baileys at the Hen & Chickens by Highbury Corner - a scandalous amount for two drinks but a bargain compared to the Redchurch deal.
These places are supposed to be - at least nominally - neighbourhood establishments but they're charging the sort of prices people who've visited Scandinavia come back weeping about.
Presumably it's an aggressive move to ensure people like me don't go in places like that. Well that's fine, but eventually more people will start thinking, is this really worth it?
I've lived in London 11 years and I'm braced for the price of most things but if we're seriously saying that a tenner might not be enough to secure two pints then the whole thing's gone to shit. This should be hover-packs-for-all in the future, not here and now.
Anyway the grub at the Hoxton Furnace was dead on - pizzas were v tasty and passed the fold test. Rubbish picture I know. The service was pretty hopeless though. Slow drinks, slow bill, not a huge deal but a bit wearing.

Funster in 'da house'

Then it was off home and a chance to marvel at this idiot's shoes - he was being loud and wacky, even by East London Line standards. I think he was foreign.

'Well you should call it a courgette pizza with some seafood then'

Red

These were my parting words as I left Deptford's Big Red pizza bus thing, next to the Bird's Nest pub (ace) just by Deptford Bridge DLR on Saturday eve.
I'd been there once before and had this mega ace pizza with sausage (I think) and black pudding - I know! - so had returned with hopes way north of high.
Like a fool, I let my fiery Latin nature interfere with the ordering process and, instead of sticking with the clear winner of the previous visit, my eye was taken by the seafood pizza. 
The menu boasted 'fresh squid', prawns and courgettes, and that was good enough for me. 
A Meantime Pale Ale later the grub arrived and I prepared to tuck into my feast with extreme prejudice. Imagine my horror when I saw the plate before me - I was so enraged I forgot to take a picture.
Three prawns, two bits of squid (which were rather tough but then that is the nature of the beast), and courgettes all over the show - scattered around with gay abandon. A sea of green disks mocking my heartache.
The pizza was alright but, unlike the previous visit, this one didn't pass the fold test - namely you should be able to cut a slice and, just folding it slightly upon itself, it should remain straight to the tip. 
This enables smooth mouth eatage - anyone eating pizza with a knife and fork wants locking up in sandpaper-and-nail prison, something I've just thought of where everything is made of sandpaper and nails, including the toilet paper. Which also has tabasco sauce in the fibres. And knives. 
On lesser topped pizzas - your mushroom, for example - you really should be able to just pick a slice up. Yes there will be droopage towards the end but you get the point. This one was flacid. The base, tragically, was too thin to maintain the toppings. My previous visit the base was good. The service on both visits was fine and the place itself is nice.
But I was gutted.
On leaving I said to the fella: 'You know, the seafood pizza is a little light on the seafood.'
'How do you mean?' he replied.
'Well, three prawns?'
'But they're real prawns.' (I didn't quite get this bit)
'Lot of courgettes though, maybe you should rename it'. And you know the rest. I shall return once more before registering my definitive view of Big Red Pizza, which is at 30 Deptford Church Street, SE8 4RZ. 

Tennis - it's not just for girls!

Bosh!

Bobbed along to Wimbledon yesterday, joining the riff raff in the queue. Got there at 4.50pm and was in for 6.15pm, which meant I'd easily get in my two hours of top level tennis (any more than that and I get bored).
I think most people just assume there is no chance at all of getting in so they don't bother, but there were loads in the queue when I got there and loads behind me by the time I got in.
Ground passes are only £14 after 5pm (£20 for the day ones) so you can't go wrong, unless it's bad weather. The plebs entrance is gate three and as soon as you get in you see the massive Centre and Number 1 courts, around which the outside courts are scattered. It's an odd sort of place and feels like a very posh housing estate with a load of tennis matches going on.
After a bit of mooching and a beer I watched some Yank playing a Croat (the Yank, pictured right, was a whiner so I took against him) before moving on to see what else was afoot.
I watched a chick game for a bit - like most people I was hoping it would dissolve into a colossal lez-fest. Disappointingly it didn't.

Woman's very lifelike hat

What's most impressive about Wimbledon is the slickness of the operation - I wouldn't be surprised if there are Yanks actually running it. The queue is well organised, with plenty of stewards on hand to help, and there are plenty of places to get food and drink or go the bog while you're waiting (they give you a queue card so you don't lose your place if you nip off).
Once inside there are food and drink sellers every 20 yards or so, and lots of toilets. My only comparison here is football matches and there is no comparison at all - these things are gleaming. I didn't get any grub but it looked half decent, and the beer wasn't bad - usual plazzy cup festival type affair (£4.40 a pint of Grolsch).
Obviously it's very white and very middle class but not particularly snooty. Worth a dig if you're curious, although the first week is best if you're going late (more matches, duh).

Ticket information and other stuff here

Hit that ball!

Saturday at the Kernel brewery, Bermondsey

Well, it is a toilet (I decided to hang on)

All hail the Kernel Brewery in Bermondsey! I'd heard this place was good - and their grog is being stocked in the sort of place I never go to because I'm common - but I'm always wary of praise. I can report though, after a successful Saturday mooch, that it is spot on.
With the sun out and people slurping beers sitting on old gym benches in the shadows of the railway line it's an odd but enjoyable environment. It feels like a secret drinking club set in a post apocalypse future. It's probably less fun if it's pissing it down.

You can have a look at their website to see what's currently on offer - when I went it was dark beers mainly. Not my scene man, but I had a bash anyway. And I'm glad I did. 

There were a couple of pale ales on draft so the lad gave us a taste before we got stuck in. It was very nice so we had a couple there and got some bottles to take home. The homesters were IPA Citra (7.2%) and a pale ale called Herkules Centennial (5.3%) - coincidentally that is the exact lettering of the tattoo I have on my back, illustrating a 1:3 ratio picture of the wrestler Kendo Nagasaki's 'game face'. 

The kiddy

I'm no beer expert so really I treat it like wine - I'm after a nice taste, cold and with a good booze content. And as the plan for the day was to put beer where there had been no beer before - both my tum and my fridge - it was a resounding success.
Of the two types of beer taken home, the citra one's the kiddy. Really nice, strong but smooth. Perfect for sipping on a warm day.

It's quite a nice layout up there on Saturdays, when it's open to oiks, with the brewery sharing an arch with someone selling ham and cheese - served up on a plank of wood. And there's a few other gaffs selling stuff too. 

After that it was a plod round Bermondsey Street before catching the arse end of Borough Market to watch people pay ludicrous amounts for cheese while trying to out-buggy each other, kidwise.
The Kernel Brewery is open to people like you on Saturdays. Visitor entrance is at 1 Ropewalk (just off Millstream Road). The official address is 98 Druid Street, SE1 2HQ. Five minute walk from London Bridge station. http://www.thekernelbrewery.com/

Don't tell me what to do - maybe I want the sediment?

That gas bottle has the evil eye!

Leathermarket Gardens in full bloom

Some weird splodge stuff on the posts holding up the roof on Borough Market 

#Meateasy

Yummo!

"What's the grub like," I demanded of the woman kindly offering her chair. She looked at me, then at her fella, then back to me, and said: "You know when you have a dream and..." before tailing off in apparent delirium. The bar was set high.
And justifiably so. What was a few weeks ago London's hippest gaff (my visit means it's clearly passé), nestling on top of the former Goldsmiths Tavern in New Cross, is fantastic (if you want the back-story about the van and that, google it, lazy arse).
From the moment you walk in you can tell it's a bit good, the service is spot on and the waiting staff excellent. You get a number, get a drink, (eventually) get a table then put your order in when your number's called. It's a nifty trick to make something which, on the face of it looks fairly shambolic, run so smoothly.
But this is a slick operation - and it starts with the bar. Bottled Meantime lager, and fair play that amber stuff is nice, or cocktails. You tell them the sort of stuff you like and they knock something up. Mine, some sort of whisky sour thing with an egg in it, was ace.

I dined with a guest, it's not all mine

And so to the food. Pictured right is a bacon cheeseburger, onion rings, and a cheeseburger (chilli chips are out of shot). Taking them in order, the burgers are amazing - big and not remotely greasy, despite how they look in the pics. Really well packed so there's no collapsing like you get in some big burgers. And the taste - man alive, they're superb.
The onion rings are great too, really light and tasty. If you go, you have to have them. The chips are last - a real afterthought. I'd seen a few plates of these skinny wretches being dished up so went for the chilli-cheese option, which was - again - delicious. The chips become something for the chilli to stick to. Probably the chilli was the thing that pushed me over the edge. We ate at 8pm and I was still stuffed at 1am.

It had an egg in it! It wasn't this bright though

An interesting crowd in there, and pretty much as I'd expected. Seemed Goldsmiths-ish but the prices are not really student friendly (£7 for a burger, similar for a cocktail, £3.50 I think for a bottle of beer).
On my visit, the punters were almost exclusively white. There were a lot of thick-rimmed specs on display and, I suspect, a lot of people drifting down on the East London Line.
One lad said to his chum, whose haircut was the equal of any CBeebies presenter: "At last! New Cross is connected to the rest of London!" Ignoring the high frequency train services which take five minutes to get to London Bridge, by "the rest of London" he meant "Highbury & Islington".
Apparently they're finishing for good on 16 April, with rumours of a switch up the road to Greenwich (but that's not even on the tube! How will Dalston Ted get there?), but Lewisham council should be moving heaven and earth to keep this thing in the borough. To let something as good as this slip away would be insane (you can follow them on Twitter, @themeatwagonuk, to get the latest). Recommended.

Why is Meantime draft lager so bad?

Schonramer - as it arrived

Meantime is a Greenwich-based brewery that has two pubs in the area. I've been to both a few times, and I really want to like them, but I just don't.
Actually it's not the places themselves - the Greenwich Union on Royal Hill, and the Old Brewery at the Old Naval College - because they're both smart. Really nicely done out and the Union, which for me used to have a bit of a pong about it, is a really nice pub.
It's the draft beer I don't like. Maybe I'm doomed to suffer because I don't like ale and stout and all those drinks that beer bores slurp down. I like lager.
I went to Bruges recently and one of the things that sticks out is how much better the beer is there - all kinds of beer.
They take it seriously, and the people at Meantime clearly take it seriously too, but their lagers - and variants thereof that I've tasted - are hopeless. At best, not bad-ish and at worse, really, really awful. And expensive.
When I was in one of their gaffs the other day I started with a pint of Schonramer (£4.35, I know) and it was alright. Mrs Biff had a Meantime Helles, which in her words tasted 'like water'. I had a sip to confirm. So far so ho hum.

Five fucking quid

Next up we went for broke with a trappist beer cos we're mad like that. Westmalle to be precise and it was ace - 9.5% and a cool five pounds a bottle (I assumed the glass was a prezzie). It seemed to work at an accelerated rate as I had a monster headache two hours later. 
The grub is ace at the Union by the way, although it's not cheap at £11.30 for a burger and chips. But back to the beer, lastly I had a London Lager, a Meantime-brewed beer. I'd had this before and didn't think much but I gave it another bash.
This was the worst of the lot. It tasted like a bad Kronenbourg - no life at all. That seems to be a trend with the Meantime lagers, they're dead flat and have that sort of bad-Stella taste to them.
These places are charging top dollar for what is, in my opinion, mediocre at best lager. You can get a good drink there, and the Westmalle was spot on, but why should we have to pay a fiver (!) to get a nice beer? It's insane. I don't want much and I don't claim to be a beer expert, I just want want the Belgians get. And that's not a phrase you hear often.

London lager

For the prices they're charging (Meantime, not Belgium) - and getting, these places are busy - I can go elsewhere and get a crap lager for cheaper.
And I don't want to do that. I want to support places like this, and I don't mind paying for good stuff, but I always feel like I've been mugged after a visit to either of Meantime's gaffs.
These pretzels are making me thirsty.

Some ace things about Bruges (in Belgium)

An alley

Gruuthuse Hof, Mariastraat, is where we had our tea the first night. Very nice it was too, although I got the idea the waiter was growing weary of his lot in life. Not helped by me swinging my arm into the too-low light-shade and bringing a massive card disc tumbling out of it. I caught it because I'm ace, and it was mildly diverting I suppose, but not as exciting as the assembled diners' reactions suggested. 

Probably out with their husbands or wives as part of a last-gasp attempt at saving something that's been dead for years - trying to use the electrical charge of my presence to reanimate the corpse of long dead love. Yes I saw you, sitting in silence, praying for something to happen. And then you saw me with a sleeve-full of light shade and thought 'this is it! Look, Sheila! Sheila! Did you see that? That bloke just hit the lampshade! Ha ha ha! You see - life isn't so bad after all! Look at him! He's trying to dislodge himself and he stood on that woman's foot! Now the waiter's involved and he's saying the bracket's missing and the shade won't go back in without it! He has to find the bracket and the bloke's saying well he hasn't got time for that and the waiter's saying he can't get another one because they don't make those shades any more! Sheila, are you watching this love? Oh I do love you, my darling! I've been a fool to doubt it. To hell with it, let's have pudding!'

Sheila's leaving you.

Look at the flash on that!

It's obvious but bears repeating - the ale is so much better than the shite we get served in this country. You can order a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g in a Belgian bar and it will be, at worse, half decent. 
That cheap stuff they have - Jupiler - is better than the draft lagers in our pubs. Step up to the local brew, Bruges Zot (the only one brewed in the city apparently) and it's miles better. Up it again to any number of ace ones - just take a punt, you can't miss - and you see just how shit British pubs are. As Mrs Biff said, beer in British pubs is merely functional. Cue some beardy nob, saying 'actually that's not beer, old titsonians scribbleplop is beer, you're on about lager.' Stick it up your tank top, wanker.

Tom's gaff

Tom's Diner, West Gistelhof 23, is spot on too. Small restaurant out of the city centre (about five minute walk north from the market square) which does a small selection of top grub. I had the meatloaf because it said 'LOCAL' next to it on the menu, and it was ace. Good starters and pud, nice beer, good service.

Also ace for beer, but less so for the beer-bores it attracts, is t Brugs Beertje (beerhouse, I think that means), Kemelstraat. They have tons of beers, including some real super strength gateway-to-hell stuff. There was a real disparate bunch of English oddballs when we were in there. One lad, as soon as his beer came (in half a coconut shell) declared the smell alone was 'to die for'. Don't be fucking stupid, egghead. 

A canal

There were five lads and one girl and each was more nerdish than the last. Slightly disappointed they didn't try and recruit me. Only downside of this place was the lad serving - he seemed a bit of a nob. 


And lastly, cycling is ace beacause it's actually pleasant. It would never occur to me to ride my bike in this country for leisure, at very low speeds. But it's perfect in Bruges, big old cycle lanes with plenty of room for walkers and bikes. And, like Amsterdam, the cars give way to you because the law's on your side. Biking round by the windmills on the east of the city and then coming back into town was just brilliant. 
There's a bike hire gaff on Mariastraat, it's €4 an hour, €8 for four hours, and I think €12 for the day.

Curried mussells and chips

Oh aye, I got to see Arsenal tumble out of the European Cup with a typical display of grace and dignity from Arsene 'it wasn't me' Wenger. And there seems to be a fair bit of free wifi around, if like me you don't fancy paying O2's outrageous rip off roaming prices. They also sell Bugles - dead nice crisps - and the people seem to be generally friendly too. Also ace.

A thing for horses to drink from that's shaped like a horse's head