steven.vu

Cây Tre, Shoreditch

I’ve been to Cây Tre before. I went a couple of years ago. It was a dingy old place selling good food at cheap prices. I think it was even one of those “bring your own booze” types of places. The place has had a well deserved make over so we decided to check it out.

The place has had the Shoreditch makeover, with patches of stupid coloured lights and a retro patterned wallpaper. It isn’t too garish and seems to suit the place. It’s still small and cramped with clues which allude to it’s less illustrious past.; the menu is this hideous laminated affair where by the laminate has started to peel, smudging the ink into an incoherent mess. The waiting staff also seemed to be a little incompetent. It wasn’t busy and they were rushed off their feet while not attending to anyone.

We had starters of cua farci and bo la lot. Cua farci translates to stuffed crab with a gloopy mess of a sauce that looks like vomit. If you can get past its consistency, it’s pretty tasty. With a decent camera, it almost looks appetising.

Even snapped with a LEICA D-LUX 4, it only just manages to look appealing. Picture lovingly stolen from someone who can actually take pictures, Helen Yuet Ling Pang @ World Foodie Guide.

Our other starter is one of my favourites, “bo la lot.” It’s fatty beef wrapped around wild betel leaves and grilled. The meat is succulent and it’s accompanied by this great aroma which sticks to everything.

My main is shown below, I don’t know exactly what it’s called because they mixed up the order. I actually asked for Bún thịt nướng Cha Gio, which is vermicelli noodles with barbecued pork and spring rolls. Instead, they gave me two bowls, one with spring rolls, bo la lop and prawns in batter, the other with barbecued pork. The first bowl was excellent, so good in fact that if I’m passing through I’d pop in just for a bowl. It’s let down though, by the prawns in batter, which tasted like they were out of a frozen packet from wing yip.

The nouc cham, which is the essential sauce to any Vietnamese dish, had already been poured on. I usually like to pour to taste, as many places over sweeten the sauce, but they seemed to do a decent job with it.

The other bowl was pretty standard, the meat wasn’t as well seasoned as Mien Tay, but it wasn’t abysmal. The last dish was fried tofu. I don’t think i’ll have kind things to say about fried tofu in any establishment, so we’ll just skip along.

With the vast array of Vietnamese restaurants down Kingsland Road keeping everyone honest, I’d suggest going down there for some Vietnamese nosh. If you can’t be bothered with the 5 minute walk, then this’ll do.

On Japanese Hostesses | Brighton

“Jin, I don’t think it’s wise to spend £400 for a couple of hours. A couple of hours of talking to a pretty young thing. The way I see it is; if you’re looking for titillation, there are far more fulfilling ways to go about it.

I’m sure I could find someone to talk to you for less than £200 an hour. They might even let you cop a feel.”

We were heading to a Japanese hostess bar. I’ve never been to one and was curious to say the least. I just couldn’t justify it though. £400 for a few hours of innocent flirting and banter with a pretty Japanese girl.

The way I saw it was, if you were going down that debauched route, there were better ways of doing it. £60 for a quick shag, £50 for a gram of coke and you’d still be left with enough to gamble the rest on black. Surely that was more appealing?

I resigned myself to the fact that his mind was set and decided to chillax.

The night started pleasantly enough. Jin had a crazy idea of going to Brighton at 4pm on a drizzly day in March. I said sure. I jumped in his car with Chris and our adventure began. Jin parked up as we left and asked if Brighton was the best idea. It became apparent that what he meant was that he wanted to go further; Scotland? Wales? No Jin. If we’re going crazy, lets go to France and then see if we can get to Germany, otherwise, Brighton will more than suffice.

<aside> The last time we went to France, Jin totalled his car on the motorway and we were towed back to Paris. We dumped the car and got home on the Eurostar</aside>

The car silently glided forward in a way only a hybrid could and we were off. Brighton was pretty uneventful. We went for dinner at a nice seafood restaurant. The starters were great, but the main of lobster was pretty average. After dinner, we strolled by the beach and decided our night out.

Chris had a glint in his eye and Jin was beyond arguing with. We hopped in the car and took down the baby on board signs. 118 118, can I help you? Certainly. A number was found and some Korean was spoken. £65 a head plus £100 for the drinks. About £300.

“Are the girls attractive? maybe. Were the girls young? maybe.” The man on the end of the telephone dodged everything.

Once we’d made our way to the outskirts of London, we called again. The price had gone up to £400 and we were informed that closing time was at 1am. It was currently 10pm, by the time we’d get there we’d be paying £400 for 2 hours.

What is a hostess?

“…hostessing is a position unique to Japan, evolving over the past 40 years or so out of the 400-year-old geisha tradition as a concession to changing times. Just as the geisha is a mediator and entertainer more than a sexual figure…

…the hostess gets paid to drink and chat with men and ensure that they have a good time at outrageously priced entertainment clubs.”

We got there at 11pm. The place was a glitzy Korean restaurant situated in one of soho’s squares. The restaurant upstairs was owned by Koreans and the Japanese had holed themselves downstairs. Nippon-Korean relations had never been so good, all it took were a couple of bulging nut sacks.

We walked in and were lead downstairs. Asian men were singing karaoke. Next to each of them was a young Japanese thing.

“Would you like to go to a private room? It’s extra at £45,” a polite Japanese man asked. Yes. Yes we will. We were taken to a small room at the back. There was a large dinner table with 4 seats and a bench at the end. We were sat down and offered a cloth to wipe our faces and asked what drinks we would like. The man, who I now know to be called Moto, told us that the bill was £400, but the place closed at 1am. If we’d like to stay for an extra hour, we could pay an extra hundred.

FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS TO SING KAREOKE WITH A COUPLE OF GIRLS.

Jin and Moto, our host for the evening slightly bleary eyed at the after party.

How reasonable, we agreed. Two girls were ushered in. Mine would be with me in a minute. They poured our drinks. Within a couple of minutes, all awkwardness had vanished. The girls bantered and we drank. Whisky on the rocks with a splash of water. Girly, but it’s how I roll.

Chris with “Dora the explorer”.

I don’t think any of the girls were traditionally stunning. They were specifically chosen for us though. Jin got a young doting girl, Chris got the brash upbeat girl and I got a demure young thing. She was adorable.

On the way there, I was so against it. I couldn’t understand why anyone would pay such vast sums just to talk to a girl. What I understand now is, they were selling love. They looked at you with adoration, were attentive and listened to your every word. I guess you could say their guise of love worked. We all fell a little in love. The titillation came from the inevitable self flagellation. Your mind wonders; in different circumstances, could you and her work.

I went outside for a cigarette and asked her for her number.

The place just emphasized how pathetic the male condition is. If a girl is attentive, listens to you and has a modicum of grace, you can’t help but fall for her a bit. I’m the most cynical fuck wit, and even I can admit that I’ve thought about her all day. The girl couldn’t speak fucking English. I’m off.

If you’d like to find out more about the life of a hostess, Cynthia Gralla probably describes it best.

Meals from Scratch | Good design and concept.

I was over at Londonelicious and saw a post about Scratch. They’re taking a new spin on ready made meals. Ready made meals you have to cook. The idea seems new, and something that could work. I can’t remember the number of times where I’ve wanted to cook from scratch, but can’t be bothered to find a recipe and then search for small quantities of every single ingredient.

Currently they’re selling meals for one, personally I think they should sell portions of two that one can eat. Even if I was eating by myself, when I cool I like my leftovers. Why wash up for a couple of mouthfuls.

They’re currently selling at Sourced Market in Kings Cross St Pancras station, Budgens Islington, the Grocery in Shoreditch 54-56 Kingsland Road, Couture Food Hall in Woolwich Arsenal, Kennards in Bloomsbury and finally Selfridges on Oxford Street.

I can’t wait to get my hands on one and see if they’re any good. Problem is I don’t think I’ll be in central for a while.

The design seems spot on. Simple typography, Helvetica, in two spot colours printed on unbleached, uncoated recycled paper stock. Slightly done to death, but still adorable.

The guys seem young and ambitious. I wish them the best. I can’t imaging the hassle it must take to source the ingredients and get it packaged and delivered for a profitable price.

Mien Tay 2, 180 Lavender Hill | Dining with mother

My sister is thinking of opening up a small cafe, selling Vietnamese baguettes. I’m not enthralled by the idea, but I guess that’s for another day.

Anyway, mother and I decided to go out to eat some Vietnamese food. We’re Vietnamese, and so are a little snobbish about what restuarants give that authentic taste. The hub of Vietnamese cuisine is down Kingsland Road, a road connecting Hackney to Shoreditch.

The area used to be a twilight zone, with a large Vietnamese population. Rents were cheap and a couple of restaurants decided to open up. Somewhere along the way, Shoreditch became cool and these resturants picked up a vibe. There are now half a dozen down a tiny stretch and they’re all getting gentrified as we speak. Viet Hoa, was one of the first to open and they’ve now gone through a minimalist urbane refit. Unfortunatly, the focus of food got lost along the way.

Ergh. Country folk style signage. Stolen from “kake_pugh” of flickr.

Not wanting to travel across town, mother and I decided to visit Mien Tay 2, a sibling restuarant of one down Kingsland Road. I think the name translates to something like “to the occident.”

The shop has one of the most hideous decors around. The signage is tatty, even though it hasn’t been open for a year and there’s this garish tourquise hinting around the fittings on the inside. The table coverings are paper and the furniture definitely isn’t what you’d call trendy. It doesn’t even have the run down charm of a cafe. Mother described it as the style of the “country folk,” it doesn’t translate well, but it’s an insult. I guess the owners thought, fuck it, they’re here to eat, they won’t care. Typically Vietnamese. Authentic.

Green papaya salad with beef jerk AKA Gỏi Đu Đủ Khô Bò. Subtle yet delicate.

The waiter came and looked puzzled, speak English or Vietnamese, Vietnamese or English. We smiled as he came out with his broken English and humoured him by speaking in English. We then went back to our conversation in Vietnamese.

We ordered quite a few things, but I’m not inclined to hark on about the subtle notes or how delicate the food was. To me it’s just hearty home grub. If you’d like more refined reviews, Lizzie, PT Expat, and Cheese and Biscuits, write kind words about the restaurant. Bella also has nice things to say about its’ parent restaurant. Pictures were affectionately stolen from the above.

Vermicelli noodles with barbecue pork and Vietnamese spring rolls AKA Bun cha gio thit nuong

My favourite dish has to be the above, Bún chả giò thịt nướng. It’s the shizzle. The only criticism I have for the food is perhaps it’s a little too sweet. In Vietnam they say the North use MSG and the South use sugar. The further south you go, the sweeter food becomes, the further north the more poisoned your food becomes. These guys definitely hail from the south; that being said there was MSG amuk.

Tenderly riddled with MSG

I get this weird reaction when I eat MSG, my saliva glands contract and it’s slightly discomforting. The pho we ordered contained quite a lot of MSG. I don’t really have a problem with MSG, I just prefer it used sparingly.

Cheap as chips, at about £30. Well, that’s a lie. There’s a chippy next door, that’s definitely cheaper. Go try this place out.

I really like this spoonback/trackback review concept. Very cool.

Pearls 18th | Bloomsbury Bowl | Balham Bowls Club

I’m writing this on the train. Oh how times have changed. I’m heading up to London and I’m late as usual. I’m meeting Dave. Another Dave. He’s a suitable replacement, albeit without the scathing cynicism.

We’re off to the bloomsbury bowl. Problem is I forgot it was Pearls 18th tonight. I really wouldn’t mind meeting her. I don’t know how Dave, who is 25, will take to Pearl, who is 18, and her friends. It’s taking place at the Balham Bowls Club which is hipster territory. I guess I wouldn’t expect anything less. The other option is bar hopping down parenially cool Shoreditch.

The Balham Bowls Club – BBC.

Dave and I have been practising the designated drivers bar crawl for the last month. We don’t drink. We bar hop and order 2 glasses of tap water with ice and lime. Squeeze the lime. This gets a reaction of either “you guys are wild” to I want a bloody tip, Fuck off. The rest of the time is just sort of socialising.

A new Dave.

The trains puling in to Waterloo. Will continue later.

I’m on the night bus going home. The N87, my savior. A worthy successor to the N77.

Tim’s the second guy.

I got on the bus, next stop Tim bradbury gets on. I haven’t seen him for years. Last I heard he was a full time stoner. Turns out he’s now a paid musician, lead guitarist for Kurran and the wolfnotes. I’m gonna have to go to his next gig.

Well back to tonight. I got off the train and made my way to Holborn. Dave was there with his gym kit. We gotta get rid of it. The idea of popping into the Bloomsbury Bowl and dropping off his bag at the cloakroom is approved and we head down. On the way we ask for directions and some random St. Martins’ students  invite us to “Runway” on New Oxford St. That sounds good. Free entry and drinks. I want. We drop the bag off. We leave to Balham.

Poppy.

We get to the Balham Bowls and Pearl’s looking great. It’s full of thespians. I love them. There’s an amateur photographer snapping away with his Canon 5d Mk 2. The sexist camera. I became pretty engorged, taking a few snaps. Another bloke is showing me a few snaps of his art while we’re playing pool. Pearl knows a Lady Sovereign, so she’s there. It’s a pretty cool fun loving crowd.

We left for the last tube and went to Runway. By the time we got there, they wouldn’t accept our guest list. Bugger. Blomsbury Bowl for the bag I’m here. On the bus.

China City | Concept at Battery Studios | Schlepp Records

I got an email a few weeks ago from Kevin. He’s been reading my site and quite randomly invited me to dinner with his friends. Not having much to do, I politely accepted his invitation. I was a little apprehensive about meeting someone through the interweb, so just to be sure I dragged Graham along. By heaven’s grace I wasn’t murdered.

China City was good. Nice food and a chilled out atmosphere. The tsingtao beer was a little too easy to drink. I refreshed myself to the game of chai mui and merrily drank the night away. I don’t think I learnt it right the first time.

We had a private room, I think they’re free with a minimum spend of £250 and you get a karaoke machine and table sitting ten. There was a white girl singing in Chinese. Apparently she studied Chinese for 4 years. How odd.

We left China City and headed over to Yates on Leicester sq. I had another couple of drinks before Chris called me. Chris and Rachel were heading to Schlepp record’s studios. It’s not actually their studios, but they rent a room at Battery Studios on 1 Maybury Gardens in WIllesden. It’s a rather professional affair. I was expecting a basement in someones house.

Chris rapping.

Ayi impersonating Chris.

The track is pretty damn good. It’s a dance track with Barry the Liverpudlian singing in Cantonese, Ayi backing in Mandarin and Chris rapping. The rapping track took 1 take. Ayi took another take and the editing was done in a pretty slap dash way using Logic. It turned out really good.

Here’s a little video of Christopher Leslie Evernden performing a few months ago.

Chris asked me why this website comes up when you search Christopher Leslie Evernden. I told him it was because I was cooler than him.