Archive for the ‘food’ Tag

Streatham Kebab, Fish and Chips House, Streatham, London   2 comments


Up at 5:30 Monday and out of the house at 7:30 without breakfast, I had a pint at 9 then three more at the tail end of the day’s run.  I was starved as I ran the final segment to the station when the aroma of fetid lamb fat (my favourite!) wafted out of the Streatham Kebab, Fish & Chips House.  “Döner meat and chips, please,” and I waited patiently as the elephant leg spun slowly before the heater.  The chilli sauce could have been thicker and hotter, but I couldn’t fault any of the rest of this divine ½ kg of stomach distress.


Posted July 13, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Food, Kebabs

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Market Gardener, Heathrow Terminal 3   Leave a comment


With Jackie’s flight arriving early, I thought I should get to the Arrivals lounge early, too.  But, I didn’t reckon on the early arrival coinciding with so many other international flights.  She’d be in Passport Control for ages.  I had time for a pint, at least.

I was a little amused that the pub was called the Market Gardener.  Operation Market Garden was the name given to the Allied assault on Nazi occupied Holland following the D-Day landings, àpropos of the D-Day stuff spotted on LOOP Sections 22-24 just the day before this visit to Heathrow.  I knew it would be lost on her (what with the jet lag) but I considered making Hiroshima Okonomiyaki for dinner (but, instead we ordered pizza — a bit out of chronological order, but still within the WW2 theme).



Posted May 28, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Baseball, Hot Dogs, and Beer (Memorial Day Weekend)   1 comment

Fat kids,
Skinny kids,
Kids who climb on rocks,

Tough kids,
Sissy kids,
Even kids with chicken pox.

Love hot dogs,
Armour hot dogs.
The dogs kids love to bite.  (from a long running Armour Hot Dogs commercial with lyrics that could never be aired today)

We don’t have Memorial Day in England, but the last Monday of May is a Bank Holiday so we consider it the equivalent at the house.  The Uniform Monday Holiday Act of 1968 moved Memorial Day from May 30 (regardless the day of the week) to the last Monday in May.  I still find this a travesty and something implemented for the sake of industrial convenience over tradition.  By the time we returned to the States from Australia in 1974, Georgia had adopted this as well so the holiday no longer fell on my birthday but on the 27th of May that year.



It was 2 months to the day until the House Judiciary Committee passed the first of three articles of impeachment.  The White House had been stonewalling the independent prosecutor and the Congressional investigations and trying hard to rewrite the narrative of its high crimes and misdemeanours.  I had been reading the transcripts of the White House secret recordings since they had been published in April and would most likely have had my copy open next to the pond to read between dips.  Does any of this sound familiar?



I don’t know specifically how I spent that Memorial Day but I know I didn’t start smoking pot until the 4th of July that year so I probably just sneaked a few beers from the folks’ bottomless stash and listened to some baseball on the radio (WSB, Home of the Braves with your host Skip Carey, and the Braves, uncharacteristically, won 9-1 over the Phillies).  Inevitably there would be a cookout with ribs, burgers, and of course hot dogs.

We don’t have proper hot dogs here, either, but at least I found some that aren’t in a can (yes, Americans, tinned wieners!).  We set up our network speaker to stream the previous night’s Cubs/Dodgers game which the Cubs, uncharacteristically, lost 4-0.  Everything, as far as we could do it, was like it was in 1974.

Come on Judiciary Committee.  You can do it!


Optimist, Upminster, Essex   Leave a comment


Why is this pub called the Optimist? I hoped the fish and chips would be edible but I didn’t expect them to be good (which, it turned out, they were). By the time my food arrived my glass was half empty (see what I did there?), and I was convinced one of these obese fellows creaking around the grounds was going to have a heart attack at any moment. I just wasn’t getting into the spirit of the pub name.



I finished my lunch and headed out. I needed to cross the road to rejoin the trail and was dashing toward it when I heard the clip-clop of the horse-drawn hearse, stopped at the kerb, and removed my cap until the entire cortege had passed. I hope the passenger deserved this minimal show of respect but I bet he was a complete and utter bastard. Crypt half full, and all that.

Loads of ale (and more guests to come), cheap (my meal and drink was about £7.50), and it was where I was when I got hungry and thirsty.  Not much to complain about, for sure.



Halalhalal Fish & Kebabs, Morden, London   1 comment


On my way to the park in Morden, I stopped for some nourishment in the form of a ‘small’ cod at the Halalhalal Fish & Kebabs.  Remarkably good stuff — firm, perfectly steamed within the tasty batter, and neither too salty nor oily.  Well done.  Perfect for a rainy day out.  Might be found by looking up “Morden Fish & Kebabs,” but I was going by the sign.


Posted May 22, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Fish and Chips, Food

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Royal Oak, Chingford, London   1 comment


The day’s run included a typical, unexpected route change (maps and explicit directions only help if you are any good at using them, I’m beginning to realise).  The additional mileage and the lack of any nourishment — save for 4 beers at other pubs and an experimental algal soup at the Greyhound a few miles back — left me famished as I climbed the hill toward Chingford spotting the 3-dimensional pub sign at the Royal Oak.   For once, the siren song sung by the pub sign was voiced by the ‘GRILL,’ not the “PUB &.”

I hobbled my way to the door expecting to be shown back to the street.  Instead, I was greeted as a long-lost relative.  “You look hungry, sir.  Are you dining?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.  But, let me grab one of these, first,” I said moving toward the bar.

“No need, we’ll bring it over to you.”  Christ.  Good service and I’m welcome here in my sad state of decay and dishevelment.  What is WRONG with these freaks?




The choices that interested me were beef steaks and at the lower price range I had to vote between rump (generally to tough for shoe leather) and sirloin.  “How would you like your sirloin cooked?”  I said as rare as legal and she returned in a moment saying, “you can have grey, pink, or blue,” this last option being where the steak is shown the grill as a threat and to bring it to room temperature.  I went for pink with a jacket potato.

I would have inhaled the plate in less than a minute once it arrived but the first bite was so succulent and perfect that I lingered a bit.  There’s nothing special about the menu, here, but a good kitchen makes a world of difference.  And, had I just hit the bar I would have thought (and probably written) that this was a typical, family style restaurant with a pub theme.  It’s not at all typical…and I bet it was packed an hour or so later (in more traditional dining hours) as it had already started to fill by the time I used the potato skin to mop up the last of the dish residue and washed it down with the last of my pint of AK.

Posted May 21, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Pubs

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Bob Carver’s Fish and Chips, Hull, East Riding   Leave a comment

On my way to the Inkerman Tavern to check in to my room, I came over quite hungry and grabbed the lunch special at Bob Carver’s, a perfect batch of haddock and chips.  I had a recommendation  (from a native with whom I work) to add the ‘spice’ to the fish and chips.  The spice is some sort of paprika and other red powder mixed in with salt and is another of the peculiarities of Hull culture.  And, I can kick myself for not buying some to bring home with me.



Posted May 17, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Fish and Chips, Food

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