Posts tagged ‘coffee’

Today’s Neighbourhood Guide (yes, that extra U is important here) takes us to London’s East End, where American transplant Meredith Brown walks us through a bustling Saturday market that’s been providing the Brits with global delicacies and some veddy, veddy traditional (but tasty) foods for the past century. Jellied eel, anyone?

Oh, the East End of London—home to the original Cockney, successive waves of immigrant communities, the YBAs (Damian Hirst and his ilk), that scandalous soap East Enders, the Museum of Childhood, the 2012 Olympics, and yours truly.

Since the 17th century, when the French Hugeunots set up camp just to the east of the medieval City of London, the East End has served as London’s working-class, immigrant community. In the 18th century, the Irish weavers moved in, followed by Ashkenazi Jews in the 19th century; the Bangladeshi community arrived in the 20th century and more recently, drawn by the cheap rents and bicycle-friendly streets, artists and their hipster cousins have joined the ‘hood. Each of these groups brought their own vibrant customs and cuisines, and the resulting mix offers anyone willing to venture outside the comforts of Central London a plethora of interesting things to do, see, buy, and eat.

Brick Lane, home to more curry houses than you can shake a stick at, is probably the best-known culinary street in the East End, but there are plenty of other avenues for the dedicated foodie to explore. Take, for example, the cornucopia that is Broadway Market. (If the street looks familiar, especially the barbershop, it may be because it was featured in David Cronenberg’s Eastern Promises.)

Running between London Fields park and Regent’s Canal, Broadway Market (along with my flat) sits at the northernmost bit of the East End. The pedestrian-filled thoroughfare has hosted a weekly food market since the 1890s, and today’s version has more than 80 stalls of fresh produce, organic meat, locally grown flowers, ethically sourced coffee, artisanal food, vintage clothing, handmade crafts, etc.

The stalls officially open each Saturday at 9:00 am, and by noon the street is thronging with local residents buying their weekly groceries, hipsters nursing hangovers with Thai green curry or Caribbean rice cooked on the spot, little kids weaving through the crowds as their parents sample Stilton, Comté, and Emmenthaler from one of several cheesemongers, and tourists snapping pictures of the accordionist busker and his tap-dancing ladyfriend.
>> Get a flat white, a Thai Scotch egg, and a pint in London’s Broadway Market. >>

In today’s guest post, we’re pleased to present you with part three of our intrepid traveler C.C.’s adventures with British cuisine. To catch up, here are Parts One and Two.

C.C. would like to pride herself on being a “good” traveler—curious, respectful, an impeccable sense of direction, a comradely cheerfulness when slaughtering any native tongue, and a fearless approach to food. But the first week in England challenges her assumptions.

C.C. is in Cambridge to work on a video. Cambridge is lovely. Parker’s Piece is verdant, dotted with golden fall leaves. People ride by on granny bikes with twee wicker baskets and C.C. can’t stop herself from recalling Morrissey singing “Stop me if you think that you’ve heard this one before.” In fact, this refrain plays over and over in her head as she runs late to work, woefully in need of coffee, which she had no time to take at the hotel, and let’s not forget she’s operating on an eight-hour time difference.
 
C.C. learns a thing or two at the video shoot. There is no craft services table to speak of. Instead, there are kindly interns constantly proffering chocolate Hobnobs that C.C., who has the snacking predilections of a monkey, is constantly nibbling. The interns also offer tea or coffee, but C.C. pauses for a moment when her choice of coffee is met with the question, “White or black?” C.C. is confused and requests a “coffee with milk,” which the intern in turn translates as “white.”

The coffee arrives in a small mug, like one might find at granny’s house. And the coffee is very, very, very white. So white, in fact, you might say a dot of coffee was added to the milk. C.C. takes a sip. She tries not to make a face…
>> Read on to discover the truth about British coffee >>

Time for a poll — what is your morning beverage routine? Coffee, tea, or something else?

Moto's coffee biscotti dessert, courtesy of Flickr user beuysgirl

Though I try to remain in denial, I’m fully aware there are some of you out there who can’t function each morning without a (gasp) Diet Coke. That seems to be an unholy alliance, but hey, I also like to eat cold spaghetti carbonara for breakfast, so I suppose no judgment should be passed. And I’ve been a flip-flopper on so many levels for so long that I want to hear about the strange and varied ways people use caffeine to start their day.

My personal saga with hot beverages started when my mom introduced me to Constant Comment and a strange concoction called Russian Tea made with Tang and instant tea powder. After a high school crush on Sheetz cappuccinos and Denny’s diner swill, I moved into a full-blown day-and-night coffee addiction from college (complete with an espresso machine in my freshman dorm room) through the next decade.

When I started getting stress-induced heart palpitations, the doctors told me to cool it on the java, so I went back to tea almost exclusively until this fall, when I finally realized it was the job—not the coffee—that was making me twitch and grind my teeth every weekday morning. The affair was back on. Coffee+Casey=True Love 4Eva.

I still switch my morning cuppa to tea every few days (and have discovered that Tazo’s Wild Sweet Orange simulates the citrus blast of Russian Tea without all the fake powder), but most days I’m a French roast in the French Press kind of girl. My sister is psyched to be using her Christmas present of a brand-new Bialetti, my stepmom always burr-grinds her beans fresh every morning, and my mom is still in love with Starbucks. Everyone’s got their own idiosyncrasy.

So, spill the beans—what’s yours and how did you end up with your choice?