Thirsty

Back to Soif on Battersea Rise, the place that is 'bursting with character and atmosphere'. A visit already noticed for the fake at reference 2.

A cool but pleasant day. The new frame house on Meadway had lost its digger, but not its garden container, which was still sitting at the top of the gravel entrance. No access for cars. Three trolleys on Station Approach, two from Waitrose (just across the way) and one from Sainsbury's (maybe a kilometre up the road).

We took a new train to Waterloo to get us to Clapham Junction. A new train with connecting carriages and with a new kind of indicator board. BH thought about leaving her Metro tucked into her seat but I managed to locate a rather small and discrete litter bin for it - a litter bin that would not have coped with many Metros - let alone the Daily Telegraphs of my youth, the days when all self-respecting commuters carried a newspaper which they had paid for - and a good proportion of them left them on the train for people like me. Some of the meaner ones removed or defaced the crossword on the back page - but they were not to know that I don't do crosswords - which is curious, given that I like mathematics and I like words.

While at Clapham Junction some of the paintwork to the fairly newly renovated stairs down to the underpass from the platform was not looking so new at all. Presumably something wrong with the paint, or with its application. A bit poor, since the paint in question looks to have been applied in a factory, rather than on site.

A little early for Soif, so rather than loiter around the shops of St. John's Road, we thought we would take refreshment in the famous Falcon, just outside the station. Famous, but seemingly not visited since mid December, after a previous visit to Soif, noticed at reference 3.

Interested to see that it had been worth their while, say a hundred years ago, to have their clock faces personalised. And reminded that zoom on the Microsoft phone does not buy much, if any, additional resolution. Or perhaps my hands were shaking a bit. Or perhaps I should have tapped the focus ring it sometimes gives you on the screen.

Amused by the attractive young barmaid, in full war paint despite it being a little before noon. War paint which included an elaborate and rather attractive job on her eyes.

So after a decent pause, off down St. John's Road. Where we came across a small terraced house, opening straight onto the street - in the way of a lot of houses, as it happens, in Romsey Town in Cambridge - priced at more than we would get for our rather larger suburban villa - this last being how our entirely ordinary estate house in Epsom, from the 1930's, is described on the deeds.

Just by the big roundabout, tucked in against the railway lines, just west of Clapham Junction. Perhaps on a clear day one can glimpse the Thames.

What would it have fetched at the time in the mid 1970's when we were buying our first flat in Wood Green for around £10,000?

Arrived at a not very busy Soif. Started off with bread and wine, our now usual Montenidoli white from Italy, first taken from the carafe during the visit noticed at reference 4.

Moved onto the lamb dish of the day, a thick slice or perhaps a lump, medium rare as I like it and rather good. Beans, watercress, a thin brown gravy and perhaps other stuff by way of trimmings, plus further supplies of bread, but I forget now what BH took in place of the lamb.

Followed by one of their cook-to-order apple tarts, which on this occasion turned up in Yorkshire pudding format with turned up edges, rather than flat. Wound up with Calvados for me and Expresso for her.

In the margins we learned that at least some of the ovens in the kitchen came with a steam option, used both for the preparation of the chips and the cooking of the bread. But they were far too expensive to think of using one at home.

Some antique cars on the way back to the station. The chap standing by, having a fag, didn't know anything about them, but one was a Rover (left) and the other a Hawker Siddeley (right), a company I know better for its aeroplanes, to be found at reference 5.

After showing me a lot of railway locomotives and carriages. Bing turned up the snap above, from the people at reference 6. A Star Sapphire, complete with lady in period dress. The sales pitch went:

'The Armstrong-Siddeley Star Sapphire was the final car produced by the company, and it genuinely was a case of going out in style. It might have looked rather similar to the old Sapphire 346, the Star Sapphire was a completely different proposition. For a start, it built on the older car's excellent dynamics, but added a considerable amount of performance and dynamics.

It received a lusty 4.0-litre straight-six saw the car top 100mph – and, finally, the four-speed all-synchromesh gearbox was joined by the option of a Rolls-Royce Hydramatic automatic transmission that made driving this swift saloon genuinely easy. Even today, a well-sorted Star Sapphire will surprise other people on the road. And anyone who's seen these cars in action on the circuit, will never forget the improbability of something of its bulk being able to run rings around more nimble sports cars'.

Back on the platform, a cold east wind, no aeroplanes and no seats.

But there were a few books at the Raynes Park platform library.

Probably the first page of the book on the right. We opted instead for the seemingly brand new Good Food Guide for 2020, somehow mixed up with Waitrose, top red. Quite a nicely produced catalogue, complete with useful maps and indexes, a catalogue which reminded me of the National Trust Handbook. We were assured that no money changed hands in the course of selecting fooderies for inclusion. Inner and outer London accounted for about 150 of the 500 pages. Sold at £17.99. But who on earth would buy such a thing?

The new Samsung phone, noticed at reference 7. Early days yet and my hands have yet to learn where the lens is, but such as it is, the snap turned up in gmail, accessible from my laptop in a few seconds. We are getting there!

And there seems to be quite a lot of zoom power.

PS: interested to read in yesterday's Guardian that, if I were an Italian conceptual artist of standing, I could stick a banana to the wall of an art gallery with duct tape and sell it for more than 100,000USD. See reference 8. Our Damien of the dead sheep has clearly missed a bit: why bother with blood and guts when you can do it with bananas?

References

Reference 1: https://www.soif.co/.

Reference 2: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/04/fake-157.html.

Reference 3: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/12/soiffed-again.html.

Reference 4: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/11/bread-and-cheese.html.

Reference 5: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hawker_Siddeley.

Reference 6: https://classics.honestjohn.co.uk/.

Reference 7: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/05/samsung-day-one.html.

Reference 8: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comedian_(artwork).

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.

Soiffed again

A week or so ago, back to Soif of Battersea Rise, my last visit being noticed at reference 1 and the subsequent purchase of wine at reference 2. A cold, overcast day, but not wet, so fine for cycling. Travelling via London Bridge and Bullingdon was indicated.

On the way to the station, I found that a good start had been made to the rendering of the new frame house in Meadway, last noticed at reference 3. As far as I cold make out the gear was being knocked in a bucket, on the scaffold, with something rather like a large food mixer. Not knocked up in a mixer down below and hodded up at all. Perhaps it was not the sand and cement render that I am used to. They were also using the sort of edging strips that I associate with interior plaster work. Possibly something like the offering from Screwfix snapped above. Or possibly something more complicated, as offered by the integrated insulation systems.

Thinking to use the conveniences actually in London Bridge Station, rather than one of the neighbouring pubs or hotels, I found that I had let myself in for a long walk in the lower regions. It would not have done to be in too much of a hurry. Eventually emerging near the old operating theatre of reference 4. We have visited in the past, but while I remembered the connection to St. Thomas's Hospital, I had quite forgotten that it was actually much nearer what is now Guy's Hospital. Marked down for another visit in due course.

However, checking this morning, the notice at reference 5 suggests that I had only thought about visiting the place. Perhaps I had conflated this museum with the Florence Nightingale Museum which is at St. Thomas's, which we visited back in 2014 and I noticed at reference 6. Much more the date which memory had suggested. Must consult BH.

Pulled my Bullingdon, and was soon engaged with the low flying sun, on this occasion bothering to don my shades. Young lunchtime footballers still on Clapham Common and I nearly got near enough to ask a supervisor what was going on, but not near enough. Maybe next time. No trouble on this occasion with the two sets of lights letting me into Battersea Rise and swung into the splendidly named Lavender Sweep without incident. The Limburg of the snap from TFL having been given sufficient notice in the postscript to reference 7.

Into Soif, where we took bread and butter, some sort of pork stew with polenta and gravy, pumpkin on the side and an apple pie. With a 2016 Riesling to drink.

The pumpkin was rather good, only bearing a distant relationship to the sort of large yellow pumpkins I used to grow for Halloween purposes, or indeed, those used at the inferno in Canada, back in 2014. Although, it comes to me now, and reference 8 confirms, that the pumpkins used for these shows were not real pumpkins at all. Replicas carved better and lasted better than the real thing.

A mainly green pumpkin, a slightly flattened sphere, perhaps six inches across, with the stump of the stem sealed with red wax. Something to do with them drying out in a more controlled way. Grown by the Zerbinati family in Mantua, a region seemingly famed for its pumpkins. More precisely, what they call at reference 9, the people responsible for our pumpkin, a Zucche Stagionata. Probably getting to Battersea Rise via the people at reference 10. Which would be of a piece with the organic, natural flavour of the wine list.

The apple pie was cooked to order. Again, rather good. Plenty for two, probably enough for three. Have yet to consult BH about how exactly it might have been made. Perhaps the answer is to take her there.

The wine was also good, a 2016 Schiefergold Purus from Rita and Rudolf Trossen, a slightly cloudy, almost fizzy white wine, of a sort which the Les Caves de Pyrene - the owners of Soif - seem to sell quite a lot of and which I rather like. Assuming that is, that I have not confused the glass of wine which came with the pork with the wine which came in the bottle. Perhaps they were both cloudy? Plenty of life on the Internet, but I was unable to find a website for the Trossen. Perhaps they really are a small outfit and have enough to do to grow the wine without bothering about websites.

Wound up with a drop of their excellent Calvados, then down to the pet shop across the road to inspect their Christmas geegaws. I settled for a rubber chicken, apparently intended to amused bored dogs. The salesgirl was impressive, because it must have been a slow afternoon, but she was still able to turn on the full sales experience without missing a beat. She knew her work. After which I retired to the Falcon to recover - along with the half cooked bread already noticed at the end of reference 11.

The bookcase in the snug had vanished, but alternative entertainment was available from one of the various televisions scattered about. Giving rise to the commonplace but true thought that the World Cup was a good way to vent of bit of nationalism in a safe way, in a safe space: we can all scream for England then go to the pub with the fans for the other lot afterwards. The football people at the Blenheim had told me in the past that this was the very much form in the good old days, when they used to travel Europe to follow their teams. Hooligans not that much in evidence at all. While I only got as far as wondering why the Korean men were wearing what looked like black sports bras under their shirts.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/11/bread-and-cheese.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/11/more-complications.html.

Reference 3: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/11/a-proper-programme.html.

Reference 4: https://oldoperatingtheatre.com/.

Reference 5: http://psmv4.blogspot.com/2020/01/not-for-squeamish.html.

Reference 6: http://psmv2.blogspot.com/2014/02/diy_20.html.

Reference 7: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/09/cheese.html.

Reference 8: https://psmv2.blogspot.com/2014/10/so-off-we-went-to-upper-canada-village.html.

Reference 9: http://www.zerbinatiagricoltura.it/default.aspx?lng=IT#.

Reference 10: https://natoora.com/.

Reference 11: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/12/impromptu-guard.html.

Celebration with soif

Towards the end of last month we took a celebration meal at Soif's of Battersea Rise, a place last visited a little before Christmas. See references 1 and 2.

Proceedings started with an advertisement for a show at the Saatchi Gallery near Sloane Square, last visited in connection with some expensive jewellery. Is the snap above anything to do with Alberta's Red River, home to lots of coal and dinosaurs? In any case, an exhibition which appears to have a Canadian connection and which we might get around to visiting. See references 3 and 4.

On the train we were entertained by a lady and her daughter who spent their entire journey, at least as far as Clapham Junction where we got off, engrossed in their telephones. I noticed just the one inter-personal event. Perhaps people of the telephone generation are forgetting how to do this last; they have become lost in a virtual world which protects them from the real world by putting them in a cloud of electrons.

Along the way I had trouble recovering the phrase 'few and far between'. After several failed attempts, BH came to my rescue and told me what I was trying to say. All very odd.

First stop was the Wetherspoon's at Clapham Junction, a place I first knew as a Yate's Wine Lodge and which the helpful heritage sign told me had once been Clapham Junction's only big bit of interwar retail architecture. Hastings for furniture, once Allpass for perambulators of Victoria Street in London proper. Bing doesn't seem to know anything about the place, but Google comes to the rescue with Bartlett of UCL - previously used in connection with Wigmore Street - at reference 5.

With the text snapped above being close to that used by Wetherspoon's. But we do get a bit more context.

BH learned how to use the never ending coffee machine, while I took a drop of their Villa Maria - a wine which I took to buying from Majestic for a while, after I learned about it at the Tooting Broadway branch. An interesting mixture of old, new and fake is snapped above. The place was quite busy by the time we left, maybe around 12:30.

Soif turned out to be quiet but not empty. Pretty much what we have come to expect on the weekday lunchtimes when we visit. One hopes they do a better evening and weekend trade, because they do not appear to be making much when we are there, despite there being a fair number of staff on duty. BH opted for the set lunch - which are decent enough, but which I find a bit too small to be satisfying - while I went à la carte. 

The bread was OK rather than good. Sour dough OK, brown soda bread not so good, white bread, maybe foccacia, rather oily. Their bread was better when they used to get it from Paul's, an option which is apparently not available up the junction.

My starter - not having not read the menu very carefully - burrata, broad beans, pickled artichoke & mint - was cheese rather bean. But not bad for all that.

My main was the new-to-me veal chop. Potatoes right were good. The chop left, which reminded me more of pork than beef, was large and satisfactory, but rather expensive. I don't think I will be taking it again. And I was annoyed that I had forgotten to bring in my real Laguiole clasp knife, with which to upstage the fake provided above.

BH like her meal well enough - but I can't now remember what it was called or what it was made of.

All helped along by a spot of white. I think we have had the vigneron before, but not this particular wine, which went down very well. For once, the telephone let me down and my snap of the back of the bottle is quite illegible, despite having three goes at it; but at least on this occasion Bing tracked it down fast enough to reference 6.

A relatively unsophisticated website compared with those of the big producers, but I was amused by the use of 'bar' and 'lounge' in the snap above. See also reference 7.

Supplemented by a spot of Calva. As good as that which they used to serve in Terroirs.

On the way out we chatted with a Japanese gentleman eating at the bar who explained to us that until the 19th century, Japan was a very isolated place, with its own diet, subsisting mainly on fish, vegetables and rice. Meat of the sort we are used to did not arrive in any quantity until later. I think that he had enjoyed his veal chop rather more than I enjoyed mine.

The swanky old cars of Barnard Road were still there, as noticed nearly a year previously at reference 8. From right to left, Armstrong Siddeley, Rover and Bentley.

From a country platform back at the junction, from which we caught a handy train to Horsham, we were struck by the elaborate fire escape, red centre in the snap above. Why would a relatively new building need such a bolt on?

From there, to ponder about why some social media venture launched by Trump should be worth billions on going public, despite having only clocked up losses so far. As far as I can make out, a social media operation to sell the world Trump Truth. But maybe since then the world has rumbled that Trump Truth is a bit overrated as the shares have taken a tumble - to the point where Trump has been ejected from some rich list.

We had a good day out, but looking back on it, not sure when we will be back. Perhaps a bit betwixt n'between metropolitan London and suburban Epsom - between the bright lights of town and the convenience of Epsom - between town and country.

Wound up the proceedings at home with some rather splendid cakes from Yuatcha of reference 9 and Broadgate Circle in the City, very handy for UBS, should you happen to bank with them. Which I assumed to be Japanese, but which is actually Chinese.

PS 1: later: BH was able to recall what she had when I asked, without the aid of the snap above. Polenta, spiced up with a bit of oil, topped by fried breadcrumbs. According to Bing (or perhaps Copilot) a relative of the grits of the southern states, while according to Wikipedia '... before the introduction of corn (maize) from America in the 16th century, polenta was made from starchy ingredients like farro [the collective name for three obscure varieties of wheat, favoured by orgo-foodies], chestnut flour, millet, spelt, and chickpeas...'. I remember a correspondent almost buying a brick of the stuff, mistaking it for cheap cheese, from the indoor central market in Florence. Stopped in the nick of time by BH.

PS 2: now taken a look at Trump Truth at references 9 and 10 - at which last I read of a connection to Putin flavoured money. Then there is the special-purpose acquisition company (SPAC) used to take it public - with a SPAC being a rather odd contraption for extracting money out of the investing public on the strength of promises made by a whizz from the world of private finance. With the whole venture looking very murky.

Maybe this whizz is whizzy enough to explain to me what this odd looking chart for the Trump Media & Technology Group Corporation (DJT) is all about. DJT being the company which created Truth Social, a wannabee Twitter or Facebook and whose entire revenue is from advertisements thereon.

References

Reference 1: https://www.soif.co/.

Reference 2: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/01/thirsty-again.html.

Reference 3: https://www.saatchigallery.com/exhibition/burtynsky-extraction-abstraction.

Reference 4: https://www.edwardburtynsky.com/.

Reference 5: https://www.ucl.ac.uk/bartlett/architecture/sites/bartlett/files/49.10._shopping_chapter.pdf.

Reference 6: https://www.les-vignes-de-paradis.fr/.

Reference 7: https://psmv4.blogspot.com/2019/11/lincolnshire-poacher.html.

Reference 8: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/05/thirsty.html.

Reference 9: https://yauatcha.com/. Described as an 'accessible fine dining experience that fuses dim sum, mixology, tea, and European patisserie to create a unique and social experience that reflects the spirit of a modern-day tea house – or a chatter house...'. Possibly starting out as a dumpling joint in Chinatown in Soho.

Reference 10: https://truthsocial.com/.

Reference 11: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Truth_Social.

Bread and cheese

About ten days ago, time once again to replenish cheese supplies. A cold, clear day, but not cold enough to deter the bearded indigent from his station outside the station. Where he appears to sit, cross legged, for hours on end. I couldn't do it.

There was a Waitrose trolley nearby but in these days of half hourly rather quarter hourly trains, I left it. Still there when I got back, some time later. Still there the following morning when I arrived to gather it up, as per reference 1.

Cheese cut very straight and neat on this occasion, with the experience counter-hand getting the weight at 10% more than I asked for. Which she may have rightly thought was about as far as she could safely go. She also observed that some new team members took a while before they were able to wield the cheese wire in the approved fashion.

Pulled a second Bullingdon for my run down the super highway to Clapham Junction. Low flying sun a bit of a nuisance, sun glasses notwithstanding and I almost missed one of the turnings on the Elephant & Castle by-pass. But, in the event, all was well.

Along the way noticing that Clapham still rates a Post Office which does not double as a convenience store, while we in Epsom lost ours years ago.

On this occasion, settled for Soif for a spot of lunch. Their bread seemed to have improved since last time, so that was good. Two portions taken with mussels which were very nicely presented, including a sensible amount of white sauce. That is to say, not a lake of the stuff. Mussels also pretty good to eat, with just somewhere between 1 in 5 and 1 in 10 having the bleached colour that I associate with elderly mussels. But I came to no harm eating them. Italian white wine rather good, in carafe format, but probably something to do with reference 4. Almost a slight fizz, the sort of thing I used to like about some of the white wines from Terroirs.

The only real downer being a large chap sat about 12 feet in front of me, dressed for the beach and rather spread out. With his rather more dainty and rather more properly dressed lady and her 12 week old baby - not that I would know, so I asked. She also had a rather dainty way of eating her mussels, as if they were oysters. While he had one of those very large city voices and I took an instant dislike to him. I suppose that lots of people like him have moved into the once ordinary, not to say blue collar. housing of Battersea Rise.

By the time I had finished my wine, I was very puzzled by the large glass container full of raspberry liqueur or something of that sort, the bottom third of which appeared to be full of some rather large and very white popcorn. Closer inspection revealed this to be a trick of the bubble glass from which the bottom of the container seemed to be made, its impression of something (I forget what) behind. Or maybe it was the something behind that was made of bubble glass.

I also puzzled about my table number, which, with the split four, I found very difficult to read upside down. I also puzzled about what sort of place would run to 242 and more small tables.

After which I thought I deserved a spot of Calvados, which turned out to be rather good. Again, rather like the stuff I used to get in Terroirs. And in a well polished glass. The waiter explained that Soif was actually owned by the wine people in Guildford that we had used during the plague, not just connected with them. The people at reference 5; people who believed that the point of wine was to be drunk and who tried to price in a reasonable way, with a smaller mark-up than is normal in the trade, to try and reach as big an audience as possible. Maybe it is time for me to see if the discount code I earned during the plague still works.

Then just as I was leaving, I spotted a chef carrying a large head of greens into the kitchen. Someone, somewhere was using a proper green vegetable, which is unusual in the sort of places that we usually patronise. But definitely a good sign.

From a short stroll up to Clapham Junction, stopping on the way to admire the branch of Metro Bank, large, same format as Epsom and not very busy. More or less opposite the Falcon. Are they still haemorrhaging money at the same rate as they were the last time I read about them? How long can they keep it up?

Viewing conditions for aeroplanes on the platform good and I managed to find the right lamp post, so that the aeroplanes dropping down the flight path to Heathrow just dropped down the post, make it easier to keep track of them while swinging around 180° to try and catch the next one. But just the one two and a couple of ones. One of which managed to come in over the Junction from a direction which I was not expecting. Always room for surprises in the aeroplane department.

There was also the lifetime first spotting of a class 73 loco, rather unusual, as explained at reference 7. Unusual that it can run using the third rail system which dominates suburban railways south of the Thames. This one well out of the third rail zone, in Dawlish, and lifted from reference 8.

Managed to give someone directions to someone for the Shepperton train without explaining that they left from the platform next to the (Epsom) one that we were standing on. Hopefully he worked it out eventually.

Home to bleed the bedroom radiator, which failed to give out the usual, tell-tale hiss while I was so doing. But the bleeding seems to have worked as the matinal bubbling noises have vanished and the radiator still gets hot.

PS 1: not just here in the UK that we have lost all kinds of once grand public buildings. The building above, started life as the Milan Stock Exchange before becoming something postal. Now sold off, with one of the occupants appearing to be Starbucks.

PS 2: not clear why Google has just sent an advertisement to my gmail box about what looks like an expensive restaurant chain. Not as if the advertisement included a bogoff coupon or anything like that.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/11/trolley-540.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/10/cheese-and-other-matters.html.

Reference 3: https://www.soif.co/.

Reference 4: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vernaccia_di_San_Gimignano.

Reference 5: http://lescaves.co.uk/lescaves-home.

Reference 6: http://lescaves.co.uk/assets/files/wine-list.pdf. 416 pages of wine list and tasting notes.

Reference 7: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_Rail_Class_73.

Reference 8: http://www.dawlishtrains.com/class-73.html.

Battersea Rise

We paid another visit to Soif last week, from the people who brought us Terroirs near Trafalgar Square. The place on Battersea Rise which gmaps seems to know as the South Circular Road, the A205 or the A3. Next to the place called 'The Address'.

Impressed that senior return tickets to Clapham Junction cost roughly half what our usual Travelcard would have cost. A saving worth changing the usual order for.

Arrived at Soif, where the first business of the day was to choose our wine from their extensive list of the white wine which is our staple these days.

Not completely clear whether this wine was exactly the same as the one with a yellow label bought at reference 3, now nearly finished, but it went down well enough. We shall probably buy some more.

Two rounds of their improving bread while we thought about what else we wanted. BH settled for the leg of rabbit dish of the day - rabbit which I suspected of coming from China, at least of being a large farmed rabbit rather than the wild variety - while I settled for leg of lamb, medium rather than medium rare. Which came with what I think are called Boulangère Potatoes, that is to say thinly sliced potatoes baked with onions and some stock. A sort of foreign take on the potato pie served up by BH.

All very good. With my lamb taking the form of a two inch cube of lamb, cooked just right for me, still pink while not oozing (see reference 4 for where it was just wrong), plus some rather fine kale and some power gravy, mostly mopped up with bread so as to keep it off the meat.

Same apple pie as last time and it was just as good the second as the first time. Except that they had rearranged the apples into a quite different pattern: perhaps the apprentice was had been let loose on them. Except that when I come to compare and contrast with those at reference 2, I can't see much of a difference. Odd that I should have thought that there was. Perhaps if one could get them side by side I would see what was going on.

Winding up the proceedings with a spot of their fine Calvados. The waiter explained that the marc which crops up a lot in Simenon, along with the Calva, is not as popular as it was in the middle of the last century, not even in working class bars. Or perhaps popular bars would be less old-speak. But you can still get it easily enough - if you like it that is. Which I don't think I do - unlike the Italian grappa which I do like and which I believe comes from the same family. For the ladies, the waiter suggested something called Chouchen - reference 5 - although I don't remember whether he actually had any.

He told about the organic virtues of our wine, about the many years since the vigneron was weaned off chemicals, and when I queried the presence of sulphites, he explained that without something of that sort it was very hard to control the maturing of the wine and one was apt to end up pouring half of it away. Which didn't really do for someone hoping to make a living: so not very organic, but probably the least bad option.

We also learned, that in common with many people in the hospitality business, he had a long commute, in his case from Walthamstow. And as it happened, the taxi driver we had later at Epsom commuted there from Brixton. She shared her cab with another driver, parking her own car in our own Manor Green Road during the day. I forebore suggesting that she might like to pay to use the multi storey car park intended for her and her kind.

But before we got back to Clapham Junction, we took in the fancy trim to the window arches opposite. One supposes that to put such trim in now would be a lot more difficult and expensive than it was at the time, over a century ago.

And then there was a curious building opposite TK Maxx in St. John's Road. A building with upper pretensions and one wondered what it was originally used for. Then, mindful of the possibility of a new jacket, mentioned at reference 7, we paid a visit to the TK Maxx itself.

A great barn of a place, with nothing much of interest in the jacket department, but there was something, a bit slim line for me, but which I thought that might do as a dressing gown. BH did not agree, but I dare say she would have gone along with twenty quid or so. It turned out to be priced at £999.99. I had no idea that TK Maxx sold stuff at that sort of level. On closer inspection it came from an Italian house called Dolce & Gabbana, to be found at reference 8. Curiously, while they did sell men's coats costing a small number of thousands of pounds there, you could more easily spend twice as much on a jacket. And to judge by today's headline picture, they also do expensive & exotic lingerie for ladies.

The day closed with the graffiti snapped above. It seemed to me complicated enough and carefully enough executed to have been planned out beforehand. Somebody had made what would, in the olden days, have been called a cartoon. And the chaps involved saw fit to sign it at the bottom. I seem to recall that in parts of New York, such things have been raised to the level of art and are taken very seriously by all concerned.

PS 1: a couple of days later I tried the TK Maxx at Epsom, as advertised at reference 6. There were some jackets there, but the only one that attracted me was a long black and white job, half wool, more the length of a car coat than either a jacket or a real coat. It was only £20 or so, but I don't think I would have got my money's worth, so desisted there too.

PS 2: I have now had an opportunity to inspect the wine with the yellow - or rather off white - label. Apart from the colour, the labels are pretty much identical, except that the white on black label above is for the 2021 vintage, whereas my black on white label is for the 2020 vintage. Perhaps they alternate to make things easy for the people working in the various sheds and warehouses between San Gimignano and Epsom. And in the margins, I learn that San Gimignano includes half a dozen or more of the medieval towers that I associate with Florence, not that many of them survive there. Titbits at reference 9 about the efforts of the medieval municipal authorities to get a grip on tower excess. Such things don't change very much!

References

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

Reference 2: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/12/soiffed-again.html. I had not thought that the last visit was well over a month ago.

Reference 3: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/11/more-complications.html. The home of the wine with the yellow label.

Reference 4: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/02/southwark.html. Where the meat was just wrong.

Reference 5: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chouchen. An alcoholic confection of apple juice and honey.

Reference 6: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/02/crocus.html. TK Maxx.

Reference 7: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/02/a-busy-day.html. Tweed.

Reference 8: https://www.dolcegabbana.com/en/. Expensive Italian gear.

Reference 9: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Gimignano. The towers of San Gimignano.