Tag Archives: Brixton

They’re not lying

31 Oct

20121031-015354 PM.jpg

I get it. I get the hype. After months of reading and hearing others rave about Honest Burgers, I finally experienced it for myself this weekend, while in London to see both friends and some wonderful noise in the form of Japandroids. (As ever, I suppose, this delay is what I get for not living in the capital.)

20121031-015408 PM.jpg

Caerphilly rarebit is a beautiful thing in itself. Sitting atop of a juicy, medium-grilled burger, it’s practically obscene. With braised leeks, smoked bacon and pea shoots, as well? Cor. And let’s just say that I want to make some very grovelling amends for the 24 years of my life spent unaware of the existence of crispy leeks.

20121031-015416 PM.jpg

Unless you want to be here all day, it’s best not to get me started on the rosemary-salted chips or the home-made lemonade, served in jam jars with twee straws.

20121031-015427 PM.jpg

Oh, and the fact that we had an hour-and-a-quarter wait after putting our name down for a table, meant that we were veritably compelled to tide ourselves over with these snack-sized tacos with beef and pretty much everything else from the incredibly cheerful man running the stand outside El Panzon.

Double win.

Brixton Village: hangovers and crêpes

22 Jul

20120722-091709 PM.jpg

For a girl who resides precisely nowhere within the embrace of the M25, I have a disproportionate number of hangovers in Brixton. (See also: Kentish Town, but that’s a whole other blog post in itself.) It’s where some of my worst-influence friends live, and visits to stay with them usually culminate in a less-than-pleasant morning after. Still, there’s always Brixton Village.

20120722-091716 PM.jpg

I’d love to pretend that I’m au fait with every nook and cranny of this lovely little warren of cafes, restaurants and shops. But that would be a lie; despite my best intentions, I’ve still yet to even make it to Honest Burgers. It’s always Senzala and its amazing crêpes for my friends and I. It’s pretty much our Bar Italia.

20120722-091722 PM.jpg

Most of the menu looks incredible, but my favourite is the Picante: spicy minced beef, red onion, peppers and a generous blaze of jalapeños. It’s got enough zing to cut through even the most horrendous of hangovers. Teamed with a glass of refreshingly minty homemade lemonade? I’m almost a functioning human being again.