Wycombe bites: The Works

In anticipation of our extended holiday to the Southern hemisphere - to meet the latest addition to the clan and celebrate an auspicious birthday – I’ve given up booze and sugary stuff and pretty much anything worth eating or drinking. It’s boring, and joyless, and I’ve already found myself having a two-pint Guinness lunch ‘cos it’s St Patrick’s Day’ and eating a steak and kidney pudding for breakfast ‘just because’.

Thankfully, as the salad-eating regime has been less than half-hearted on occasion, there's still been plenty of opportunities to support the Works, the latest indie offering on Wycombe’s high street. With its selection of - temporarily verboten - ice creams, cookies, pancakes, waffles and milkshakes, and their lovely staff who bring a little extra sweetness to the proceedings.

It’s not all kid’s stuff, with a drinks menu that includes beers such  as the peerless Beavertown Gamma Ray and Meantime, boozy shakes, cider, wine and champagne. The prosecco comes on tap and can be ordered with a variety of different fruity adornments or even with their homemade sorbet for a decidedly grown-up slushie. Perfect for taking pictures of people taking pictures for Instagram.

After visiting their original branch in Aylesbury for a deliciously ostentatious golden Ferrero Rocher ice cream sundae the Christmas before last, their most recent festive offerings included a turkey dinner, complete with stuffing, bacon and cranberry sauce, stuffed inside a Belgian waffle. As much as I love the combination of sweet and savoury, I would have preferred the advertised gravy rather than a slick of maple syrup across the top. Otherwise, top marks.

Other fillings I’ve enjoyed, which can be served on either a freshly made waffle or crepe, include chorizo and roasted pepper; classic mozzarella, mushroom and spinach; and a dissected hot dog with beef chilli, jalapenos and onions (undocumented as I was sitting next to my boss while I was eating it, trying to avoid the inevitable grease stains down my shirt and salad in my teeth).

As good as the savoury offering are, and most are pretty good, it’s impossible to ignore the fridge filled with a cornucopia of different coloured gelato as you walk in. Available as individual scoops, with a variety of customisable toppings, or bring your appetite (or a a friend) and try one of their sundaes, which can all also be ordered on top of a waffle of crepe.

While there are a myriad of different combinations, including banoffee pie, hot apple caramel crumble and eton mess, my favourites are choc-based. Although a minor criticism is the low melting point of some of the flavours I’ve tried, notably the chocolate which seems to liquefy before you’ve stuck your spoon in the sundae glass. A small trade-off for such light and creamy gelato, I suppose, but dig-in quick (not a problem if you're with the Ewing) if you don’t want to drink your desert.

One of the ‘firmer’ flavours - and now a firm favourite after trying (several) helpings when they had their recent pound a scoop promotion – is the Peanutella, peanut ice cream swirled with a ribbon of melted chocolate and whole nuts. This is genuinely one of the best ice creams I have eaten and is particularly good in the Nutty Professor sundae; with pistachio and chocolate ice creams, toffee sauce and extra nuts; or, even better, served as an affogato with a double espresso.

Not only is it torturous that I frequently have to walk past, I now see on social media that their range of gelato has been joined by a salted peanut butter chocolate pretzel flavour and they have a new Easter Egg Hunt sundae on waffle - topped with gelato, whipped cream, Malteser bunnies, Creme Eggs and a 'surprise'. Maybe there's time for one last blowout before I have to fit into my beach wear...

More Buildings and a Camden Bird

 

So I came back to Camden; the scent of poppers and jerk chicken; the bobbing sea of electric-dyed hair and shiny piercings that glint in the sunlight reflected off the Regent’s canal. It’s almost enough to make me feel nostalgic for the mornings spent pouring over bootlegged records and cones of chips and afternoons drinking lager in sticky-carpeted pubs. *almost*.

On this occasion there was little time for reminiscing as we were heading for brunch at Bird – the third branch of the fried chicken and doughnut mini-chain - before schlepping out to the far North west corner of the borough for the second stop on the Brutaltour.

Even better, they were having a delayed soft launch on our visit, with 50% off food for the weekend. Although our eagerness to eat chicken and drink beer, coupled with a delay in opening their doors, meant we had half an hour to browse the market and reminisce about our misspent youth. Although in my heyday it was more about Cyberdog and Nirvana T-shirts as opposed to the posh coffee and nitrogen ice cream I enjoyed on my last visit.

Anyway, back to brunch, and Bird stands out on the Kentish Town Road with its bright orange crest of a sign. Inside is kitted out with all the exposed brick and strip lighting you could wish for, although the tunes were resolutely old school, the highlight being Ja Rule and J Lo’s ‘I’m Real’ a song that not only does The Ewing know all the words to, but had also invented a little dance as she sang along. The best entertainment while waiting for our food.

The hipster-ness is cranked up to eleven with a beer menu that offers PBR, the sweet and fizzy American lager from Milwaukee that has found favour with the new beard and plaid generation who work in urban lofts rather than sawmills. It may have all the complexity of a pint of R Whites but, like the lemonade, when served ice cold it makes a great foil to spice and grease.

The waffles served with my fried chicken were delicately pale, like my Irish ancestors (I, sadly, inherited the pink gene), and I feared undercooked clagginess. Thankfully, my suspicions were unalloyed as the ‘doneness’ was spot on; crisp without and fluffy within. They also paired very well with the crisp-crusted chicken and side of smoky maple syrup - a winning combo if you like that sweet and savoury thing.

In comparison the star of the show, the fried chicken, was somewhat lacklustre, which was a shame as the whole concept hinges on it. It wasn’t bad, per se, but at seven quid for a drumstick and a small chunk of breast, it didn’t compare to a recent visit to Chick N Sours and was probably on par with the fast-food variety box I may have drunkenly consumed last weekend. Wings fared better and I liked the Nashville extra hot sauce, even if it lacked the powerful chilli punch the name suggested.

Sides wise, we both hungrily fought over the cheesy korean cheese fries with house kewpie mayo and gochujang glaze - which were excellent, although conservatively portioned – but the pickled cucumber was a bit of a let-down, featuring a few wan slices of fruit in an unremarkable dressing that made me want to visit Silk Road where they know how to smack a cucumber up.

While the Ewing was disappointed they didn’t run the full gamut of deserts offered at their other branches – including the retro banana split with squirty cream – I was more than happy they had freshly baked doughnuts, and even more so when I saw one of the daily flavours was cinnamon sugar. For me this was the highlight of brunch; a fluffy orb of warm dough, generously stuffed with vanilla ice cream and decorated with plenty of strawberry sauce and the aforementioned aerosol cream.

The bill came in at thirty quid, which included tip and a seventeen pound soft opening discount for the food. Decent value with the money off, but had we paid in full I think the phrase cheap at half the price would have been more apt. Still, not a bad option if you’re in the area and with a fried chicken and blue collar beer craving.  You can also grab fresh doughnuts to takeaway, available fresh daily, from 11 until sold out.

After lunch we made the second stop on my Brutalist architecture adventure that took us over Primrose Hill (it's windy there, but the view is so nice) to the magnificent Alexandra and Ainsworth Estate.

After first seeing the estate featured in the final episode of Prime Suspect I've wanted to visit Rowley Way and, even on a steel grey February afternoon, it didn't disappoint. Like it or loathe it this is an estate with real character, from the grey and green concrete to the bright blue railings. There's also a huge number of palm trees and tropical plants on the balconies, giving a whole new meaning to urban jungle.

This distinguished development was designed in 1968 by Neave Brown of Camden Council's Architects Department as an attempt to eschew the high rises that were cropping up across the capital and an answer to London's social housing shortage. Completed in 1978 the estate is constructed from site-cast, unpainted reinforced concrete, so beloved of the brutalists, and in 1994 became the first post-war council housing estate to be Grade II listed.

Instead of building up into the skies, he favoured a Ziggurat design of successively receding split level maisonettes, each with their own private outdoor area. This design also means the higher block directly adjacent to the railway line acts as a noise barrier that blocks the noise of the trains.

A must see for any modernists, and if you fancy seeing what's behind the frosted glass, look out for Open House London in September where selected flats on the A&A Estate can often be visited. Find out more about the place - including a chance to watch 'One Below the Queen: Rowley Way Speaks for Itself', a film featuring the estate's residents - link.

Foxlow and Craft Beer Co.

Foxlow is the baby sibling of the much loved Hawksmoor, and whilst there has always been a pricking curiosity to try their famed smoked beef ribs and soft serve sundaes, with something as perfect as Hawksmoor already existing it seemed destined to remain the overlooked runt of the litter.

Anyway, they now do brunch and who doesn’t love brunch (while this question may sound rhetorical, I emphatically did not like brunch as a child, not being able to overcome the confusion of missing a meal).  But with a half price soft launch on food through November weekends to test the new menu, it was time to overcome distrust of condensing two meals into one and book a table for Sunday lunch.

First things first though, and after arriving a little early for our table we walked down to Gray's Inn Road to Bottledog, Brewdog's dedicated beer shop, to stock up on a few bevvies.

Wintery stouts and porters were very much the order of the day, with a Mikkeller Cointreau barrel aged stout for the Ewing; the Mikeller brunch Weasel stout; Brewdog/Victory's U-Boat, a smoked porter; and Stone Brewery's Milk Stout being pick of the bunch. There may also be a bottle of the Black Tokyo Horizon underneath one lucky girl's Christmas tree...

I started brunch with a green juice, and also a red juice as our waiter eschewed anything so sensible as a pad and paper and so originally bought the wrong colour. I also had a glass of Prosecco, safe in the knowledge that the celery and apple elixir was stealing a march on my liver and ergo neutralising the brunch cocktails. The Ewing went with the wonderfully camp Miami Dolphin, a neon mashup of rum, lime and strawberry.

While we waited for our mountains of fried food to descend we enjoyed a rather sophisticated - and rather pungent - nibble of anchovies, goat's butter and raw onion on rye crisps. This is one serious, and seriously good snack. They also have a butternut squash version of baba ghanoush topped with sesame brittle. Yes, please.

The Montecristo (ham and cheese stuffed cronut) was sadly off the menu, so we compensated with the fried chicken on a croissant waffle topped with a fried egg and side of sausage gravy. Swap bacon for egg and double the waffle size and you may just have found my perfect brekkie.

I also promised the Ewing the basket of fried chicken, served with habanero vinegar and green slaw, alongside sides of fried tdusted with chicken salt and cavlo nero with lemon, garlic and chilli.

The chicken was everything you dream about when you order a family sized bucket (but usually end up with fowl that is both dry and greasy and pretty foul), crisp, juicy and perfectly pimped by the heat and tang of the vinegar. Fries – or what I saw of them – passed the Ewing’s stringent quality control with flying colours and cavlo nero is surely one of God’s ways of making up for the downsides of winter.

Despite eager over ordering (although far better than a recent trip to Hawksmoor) to skip pud would have been unthinkable, especially with soft serve sundae on the menu. In the end I chose the Elvis sandwich; slices of fried bread stuffed with soft serve, banana and peanut butter before being swamped in crispy bacon and caramel. As outrageous as it sounded, although the too icy ice cream turned out to be the bum note in the dish and, (quelle surprise), it was enormously rich after so much fried food.

The Ewing’s chocolate and hazelnut pot was no less indulgent but, being comprised mostly of her favourite foodstuff, didn’t prove much off a challenge.  Like Nutella on steroids and more acceptable to sit and eat from the jar with a spoon.

Whilst it was always going to be a hard gig to match up to such an eminently cool older brother, Foxlow is a lot of fun. With plenty of salt, smoke and sugar on the menu, a great drinks list - the six quid negroni slushies are certainly worth a punt - and fried chicken that passed the Ewing's stringent tests with flying colours, the young upstart has plenty of its own merits to recommend it.

While any sensible person with work the next day may have decided that this was the perfect adjunct for returning home for Antiques Roadshow and an early night, the eminently less sensible would take the opportunity to drag Stealth out east for a few beverages at the nearby Leather Lane branch of the craft Beer Co.

This branch of the expanding mini chain is very much a city boys’ pub, with the down stairs being set up for the maximum amount of ‘vertical drinking’ – high, narrow  tables and stools running around the side of the room and a long bar to stand at. Thankfully they also have an upstairs lounge area which is much comfier, although you do have to navigate the stairs every time you want a drink, increasing tricky as the evening wears on. Full marks too, to the lovely staff, who bought our drinks up on trays for us and kept us in pints of iced water throughout the hours we managed to while away

A quick glance at the menu – known for its range of rare and interesting brews, although keep an eye on the keg prices as they are quoted in half pints and can get pretty pricey pretty quickly - had me squeaking with delight (literally) when I saw the Beavertown/Napabier ‘Bone King’ DIPA collaboration was available on cask. 

This poured a golden orange, with a thick hazy look about it with an Um Bungo undercurrent; a funky, skunky, gum watering collision of peach and pineapple and passion fruit. The flavour didn’t disappoint, with bitterness from the hops and a tropical note that bellied its 8.5 percent abv.

Tempting as it was to just stick with the Bone King, my liver thanked me for swapping to a half of the Kent Brewery's Altered States, followed by two dark and brutish bruisers – a keg Yin from the Evil Twin and a cask Teleporter from the Summer Wine Brewery and a Calypso from Dugges.

Remaining memories were a little hazy; I know my wife loved the elderflower saison from Kent enough to order it twice and, at some point, Stealth had a scotch egg to go with her pint of Devil's Rest Burning Sky IPA. I also know that the Ewing (happily) acquiesced to partake in a selfie as we stood on the platform at Farringdon waiting for the tube home and, knowing her as I do, you can’t get a more ringing endorsement of fun (or certainly drunkenness) than that.