The Princess of Shoreditch: spoiled, superficial and inconsistent.

Feckin fitting. The darling gastropub of Shoreditch is just as much a vacuous wannabee as the crowd that now infests the neighborhood.

Just as the gritty, cool, authentically care free and creative generation that made Shoreditch is now copied by empty, overly produced shells, so is the Princess of Shoreditch a try hard, mediocre place to eat.


Yeah, there's some nice fluorescent portraits, and everything is in the de rigueur shabby chic, muted style. But the food is crap. I mean, the sticky toffee pudding was great, granted. But I've pulled better things out of my own ars£$%$. My friend had this ravioli, which turned out to be this doughy, oversized, clumsy mess.


The roast was £15 quid, and I can get better for half the price around town. The bloody mary was appalling.


And Mischa Barton, darling, you desperately need a new colourist.



Blargh.

Counter Café, Brunch aaall the way in Hackney Wick

I finally made it to Counter Café. Hell, I've been reading about this place for a bloody epoch. But each time I decided to go, checking the address on Google maps left me completely deflated. The gnarling pangs of a hungover Sunday morning demand immediate appeasement.

And yet this Sunday, by a random conjunction of stars I finally made it. Yes, me lads. The intrepid blogger has once again prevailed.




Veni, vidi, vori.

I came, I saw, I devoured.

I'm reticent to utter this on the unerasable WWW, but the vibe upon entering the place was amazing. I'm sorry. I'm not usually this corny.


Said conjuncting stars had granted us a further happy coincidence, a hippie quirky danish festival on the grounds. There was some folky live music, people selling stuffed birds in cages. I admit by the end of the visit the folky music felt like somebody had put a feral cat into pillowcase and was batting the shit out of it. But that's what all folky music does to me after a while, so no offense taken.



The food was what you would traditionally expect of these industrial, rustic hip places that have popped up in East London recently. Eggs benedict, chorizo, arugula, cherry tomatoes, artisan cheese. All rearranged in someway or another on these menus, in one order or another, but samey samey. Sorry, I'm doing a quick rant about the easy formula that is unfortunately homogenizing the restaurant scene in Britain. Bear with me, it's almost out. I would just like for someone to say fuck understated and go nuts, not in a ponsey Heston Blumenthal kind of way.


The eggs were cooked to absolute perfection, and of a fluorescence of orange only the Kobes of chicken can procure. Regular pat downs, the odd shot of bourbon, I surmise. The latte was a bit watery. As usual.

Hackney Wick, it turns out, isn't that terribly far. There are two buses that make the trek from Stokey, and I suppose other bits of the East. The Counter Café is in a warehouse space, on the canal, exactly opposite the Olympic Stadium. It's a great little cycle along the canal. Quite the nice change of scenery. There are several sofas and tables across which sprawl a mix of patrons, from the eccentric to the decidedly suburban.



A great little escape. Highly recommended.

Infos
Counter Café
4a Roach Road
City of London, Greater London E3 2PA
07834 275920

Hackney commuity website

I LOVE LOVE this website. It's a Hackney community website, with forums on all sorts of things for people from the area. If you're an East London chap, so well worth a visit....



http://www.yeahhackney.com/

The Anti-Hispter Backlash

This is a link to a piece regarding "the anti-hipster backlash".

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/oct/14/hate-hipsters-blogs

I guess people are just a wee bit tired of all the posing, all the attitude. But in all honesty, aren't all youth movements like this? Weren't the hippies so much more about long hair than big ideas? What right do past generations to criticize this movement for its pretentious, superficial esthetic, when they have left us this messed up world to contend with?

I've lived in Hoxton, and Newington Green is quite close to hipster central, and so I truly understand how annoying this all can be. But so is the twin-set crowd. All forced labels and tribal associations are stupid by definition.

But can't we just let kids be kids?