Thirsty again

A little before Christmas, back to Soif on Battersea Rise for a spot of Christmas cheer. Rather to my surprise, the last visit turns out to have been last May (reference 2): I would have guessed six months later than that. There must be so many other places worthy of our attention.

On the way, we wondered whether one of the bungalows on Meadway was going to be reborn as a house, the fate of a number of bungalows on the estate, but Downs Side now seem to have retreated. A false alarm.

Then a senior moment regarding the price of tickets to Clapham Junction relative to a Travelcard. It turned out I was comparing the price of two tickets to the price of one Travelcard. But it took me maybe a minute to get there.

Called in the Turkish convenience store outside the Grant Road exit from Clapham Junction. Flat bread, figs from Greece, and Turkish delight. As it turned out, the bread was good, if a little past its first freshness. The figs looked good, but were not quite as dry as I like them. But BH was well pleased with her Turkish delight. And it cost a lot less than you can pay for it too.

A fine Christmas tree outside Wetherspoons. And they had not seen the need to give it an ugly skirt, like the one in the market place in Epsom.

A little early for lunch, so we carried on up the rise, past the splendidly named Lavender Sweep where I park Bullingdons from time to time, on to what we thought might be an interesting modern church. Despite appearances, it was no such thing, at best a church hall, now colonised by a child minding operation.

Still a little early for lunch, so we then tried 'The Merchant of Battersea' next door to 'Soif' - BH having been tempted in by my offer of mulled wine. The door was open, so we went in, sat down at the bar and examined the challenge card while we waited to be attended to. The challenge card appearing to be a form of loyalty card, with nine spots to be stamped. But no-one appeared and we decided that the place was not really open and the door had been left unlocked by mistake; just the kitchen staff prepping for later. And I now see from reference 3 that the place does not open until 16:00 on a Wednesday, so we would have had a while to wait. In any case, it had the look of a joint for young people who liked lots of noise.

And so into Soif, where it was clear that the booking system (OpenTable) had been a bit overdoing it with its talk of two hour slots at this busy season. There was a substantial Christmas party at the back, but there was only a couple of other tables besides ourselves at the front. Two very young waiters, quite possibly students on their Christmas break, looked after by an older waiter who might have been French.

We opted for bread while we waited for our chicken-of-the-day to be roasted in the cupboard on the little terrace out front. Bread which was mixed, adequate and filling - but still not as good as the bread from Paul's which they used to serve in their William IV Street restaurant in town.

We started on the wine while we were waiting, as good as we have come to expect from this company. A 2017 Mâcon-Chaintré from Maison Valette. Not Domaine Valette?

One supposes one of the smaller producers favoured by Les Caves de Pyrene, no website but possibly operating out of the yard snapped above. Plenty of the wine available on the Internet, even if there is no website and no Street View visible signage. 

Next time I must remember to take the real thing, taking care not to get stopped with it in my pocket and drink taken, which might lead to trouble, even when folded away.

The chicken came dismembered, which I had not been expecting. Plus chips with plenty of salt. Plus salad with plenty of dressing. Having not thought to ask them to dispense with both, or at least have it on the side. The gravy with the chicken was innocuous enough, and the chicken itself rather good. There would have been enough for three of us, but we managed just the same. After which we were far too full for solid dessert; far too full for one of their fine apple tarts.

We wondered what happened to the carcases. Did they bother turning them into soup, or were they just chucked? I don't suppose the pigs get a look in these days, with the ten year old piece from the Guardian at reference 4, suggesting that pig swill succumbed to a succession of animal health hazards. My money is on it not having made it back.

When we tired of discussing whether the tree trunk was fake (BH) or real (your truly), we were entertained by smoking visits to the terrace. Male and female, vape and fag. There might even have been the odd cigar.

And then there was a loud gentleman behind me braying at the two young ladies he had brought out for lunch. He was into property and I thought that the young ladies earned their lunch - not just by dressing appropriately for the occasion. BH was not so sure.

On the way back, I picked up a Guardian and BH picked up some Christmas tree lights. Which in the event were disqualified from deployment because of their fast flicker.

Onto the platform at Clapham Junction where, despite the low cloud, I scored two easy twos with the prospect of plenty more if the Horsham train had not come in.

And so home. It was surprising how good plain cold water tasted later that evening. Must be the restricted fluid diet.

References

Reference 1: https://www.soif.co/.

Reference 2: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/05/thirsty.html.

Reference 3: https://www.themerchantbattersea.com/.

Reference 4: https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2013/jul/14/food-waste-fed-to-pigs.

Reference 5: Meat: A Benign Extravagance - Simon Fairlie (Author), Maddy Harland (Editor) - 2010. Mentioned by the piece in the Guardian above. One can pay a lot for this book, but at £6.09 including postage, second hand from the World of Books, I thought I would see how well it has worn in the years since it was written. Possibly by a pal of George Monbiot.