Dreaming of mackerel

Posted on March 10, 2016 by Ralph Bullivant

It was 1.00 in the early afternoon and I was sat on the wall on the other side of the road from Arundel’s Pub looking out over the bay. The sun was high up in a clear blue sky but there was a slight breeze to take some of the fierceness out of the heat. I had come up for a pint before cooking lunch. We had been out catching mackerel and there were twelve of them in the fridge, filleted and ready to go. I could see the smoke from a fire on the beach that had been lit in readiness for the fish. It would need another fifteen minutes or so for the flames to die before the fish needed to go on the black grill.

The pub had been empty when I went in get my pint. It had been poured slowly and surely and I went…

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Roti King

Posted on March 7, 2016 by Ralph Bullivant

I missed the 2.00 o’clock train back to Liverpool so I had an hour to kill at Euston this afternoon. Euston is going through a bit of a makeover on the moment and there are a few more places to eat there now. None of them tempted me and I wasn’t sure how wise it would be kill the hour in The Euston Tap. A call home reminded me that there had been a write up in The Guardian some months ago of a fabled place within spitting distance of the station where a man styled the roti king did marvellous things with pliable dough and good curry.

I was given vague directions and set off to find it. Unfortunately the directions were too vague and I was a mile up the wrong road before I sought assistance. For future reference there is no need to go all the way up Eversholt Street. All you need do is cross it and you should find yourself on Doric Street. There on the left hand side you will see a misleading sign to a Chinese restaurant. Go down the steps and push open the door and you are there.

It s a hole in the wall sort of place, a half dozen or so low tables, stools to sit on and a squashed kitchen on the left hand side as you walk in. I sat down and was given my menu and chose my food.

A roti is a type of Asian flat bread but that does not do justice to what was being created in there. I had managed to sit so my back was to where I wanted to see but looking over my shoulder I was able to see enough of what was going on.

The roti king was a tall man stooped over his work top. The roti started as small white balls of dough that were quickly rolled to a gossamer thinness and then spun through the air with a flick of fingers before being cooked on a hot griddle. They came to the table on a plate with a small bowl of chicken curry and all I had to do was take up the bread in my fingers and dredge up the curry sauce and take it up to my mouth. It was very good.

There was even time after I had finished to slip in a quick pint in The Euston Tap before I caught the 3.00 o’clock train.

An evening in the alternative streets

Posted on March 6, 2016 by Ralph Bullivant

We were back amongst the alternative streets for an hour or yesterday evening.

The various artists had been organised by Alternator Studios based in a disused bakery situated just down from the junction with Balls Road and Oxton Road. We had been told that a performance would be taking place at 5.45 but we were not quite sure what would be happening.

Inside the bakery it was good to see an old building being put back into use but with traces left from its former life including the heavy metal door to the bread oven green with age. We recognised some of the faces that we had seen walking up and down Oxton Road that morning and there was some catching up on what had gone on over the day.

The performance was a reading by Liverpool writer Jeff Young. He had spent a week with Frank Cavanagh the cobbler and wrote about the A552, the road that now carves its way through Birkenhead, and the memories and ghosts that lie under it.

Back at home we ate bulgar wheat burgers, garlicky lamb chops and a salad of chickpeas and Turkish peppers.

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We also had three artichokes cooked in simmering water until soft and the eaten with our fingers. We chewed at the base of the leaves and then pulled them apart to get to the choke.

Alternative Streets

Posted on March 6, 2016 by Ralph Bullivant

It is not often that you can walk out of your house on a Saturday morning to go down to the places you always go to find that someone has created art out of the conversation that any other weekend might be had with Kezem over the the till in the greengrocers.

It should be mentioned that the till is new and not forgiving of a fat finger as a result of which a £10.34 bag of shopping can suddenly come out at a cost of £204.32. It normally gets sorted out before money changes hands.

As promised the back of the greengrocers had been cleared and on the wall there were two screens.One of then showed Kerim’s face suspended in grey clouds and the other featured Kezem’s voice. The artist, Haleh Jamali had spent a week with them last year listening to them talk and she played out his voice over a series of images. The two screens played against each other as Kezem leaned against a stack of onions and watched.

Kezem talked about identity and how that shapes us for better or worse. He wondered how different the world might be if George Bush had been born a muslim.

A few minutes later as I did my shopping we got to talking and in the space of a few minutes he had me back 3,000 years and then on to Socrates and Buddha. He issuing back to Tehran next week and I look forward to the pictures he will have to show me me when h gets back.

From the grocers we walked down Oxton Road and spent 15 minutes listening and looking at the pictures on the wall All Nations 4 Hair. The only slight disappointment was that there was not a picture of me there.

It was then on to Frank Cavanagh’s the cobbler and a slip through the net of time. He has worked in the shop for seventy-five years and can remember a time before Borough Road became a dual carriageway and it was called Happy Valley. There were shops down either side and his building housed a greengrocer and fishmonger. One wall of the shop is still lined with the white tiles. He opened the side door in his shop and let us look at the medieval instruments of torture he uses to mend the shoes.

There were packets of old photos on the shelves behind him and he took them down to show us. Black and white hints of the past. He talked about the old cinemas and grand theatre that have been knocked down to make way for carparks and when Gregory Peck came to The Ritz cinema in Birkenhead for the opening of The Forsyth Saga.

We then made our way home for a lunch of pasta with cherry tomatoes.