I've got some other stuff on other stuff

As well as this, which consists of me basically writing what pisses me off and a bit about food, I write for some other places. Other people are always plugging the shit out other stuff they do in their blogs so I'm gonna just do it. Sometimes I write for:

Beatreview: www.beatreview.com Music and lifestyle blog based in Cardiff. I write about pretty much exclusively music there. And a rant, occasionally.

Limebird: limebirduk.wordpress.com It's a writing blog. About writing novels and that mostly, but also about journalism and criticism and other things like that. 

E. Mishkin: A Review

If you're a London food blogger or foodie, you'll probably have seen a hundred reviews of Mishkin's already. But I'm going to write it anyway, so I don't give a shit. 

Mishkin's, near Covent Garden, the latest in Russell Norman's empire, is preceded by Polpo, Da Polpo, Polpetto and Spuntino (I reviewed it here last year), and is a 'kind of Jewish deli'. It is a pretty good description, but it's also very cool, especially at the moment, with the trend of exposed brickwork and very much 'un-fine' dining. Which isn't a criticism, because ultimately, it does look cool, and a lot of people like it a lot. 

Image from the Mishkin's Website

I went there this week, for dinner. I was lucky I booked when I did as there was a review in the Metro that day (now it's not just a secret that food bloggers and Twitter foodies can smugly keep!) I went in to wait for my friend, and was soon seen and seated (hurrah for booking in Central London!) and given water without asking (tick!).

The menu is pretty straightforward: sandwiches, sides, all-day breakfast and 'supper' items - snacky kind of food. In true Russell Norman style, it was on a piece of lined paper and in a courier new style-font. My friend arrived, apologising profusely, and we ordered. To celebrate my new job she declared that we must celebrate (my arm didn't exactly need twisting) with a bottle of wine. The carafe, the waiter advised, was only a little smaller than the bottle, and was cheaper too ('Definitely living up to the Jewish stereotype, so far). We went for a few things to share: duck hash, beetroot & pickled herring tartare, their trademark Reuben sandwich and a gem and walnut salad, recommended by the casually dressed and friendly waiter.

The duck hash, well, it was a bit.. ducky. I know, I know, what else do you expect? - but it was. We didn't manage to finish it, complete with fried egg on top. Perhaps we shouldn't have attempted it after all of the other food. The beetroot and herring tartare was a little too beetrooty (more herring please!) but was still completely delightful - I just really love herring. The gem and walnut salad was a bit of much needed green but to be frank, pretty ordinary. Pleasant enough though. The crowning glory was the Reuben sandwich. I mean, I know everyone is raving about it but I could eat several of those in one sitting (and they're pretty big). On rye bread, with pastrami, saurkraut and swiss cheese with mustard and gherkin on the side, it was damn good.

Another cafafe (well, it would be rude not to), and we went for the rhubarb fool and the bananas foster (apparently it's a big thing in Australia, according to my companion). The rhubarb fool was pleasant but by that point, was too much. The bananas foster was heavenly - I could have eaten several.

Image from the Mishkin's website.

The bill was about £70 for the two of us which is about average (I still baulked slightly but that's probably just my current financial situation).

All in all, a great meal, friendly staff who're on the ball and one of the best sandwiches I've ever had. And they also supply (credited of course), other local business' products - for example, Big Apple Hotdogs, which I've yet to try but I've heard are amazing, and the salt beef beigel from Brick Lane which I've had from the source and is pretty awesome (both at a decent markup, of course).

I know it's very trendy to sell all this preserved meat like pastrami, corned beef and salt beef which were until recently, very unfashionable and undesirable, but by God, maybe it's the bit of Polish in me, I love it all.

STOP BEING SO FUCKING NICE

Sometimes I worry that I'm intolerant. I mean, yes, I am intolerant of slow walkers, overcooked mushrooms, when people don't understand me STRAIGHT away, poor grammar, people watching me eat and people who leave the teabag in too long, but that's all normal stuff, right? 

I'm talking about my intolerance to... nice people. I mean, I'm quite nice most of the time, but no-one can be nice all the time. I can be a bit of a bitch, to be honest. Like, the normal amount. But I really can't stop myself from getting mildly irritated by people who never have a bad word to say about anyone, or who seem to find it impossible not to at least roll their eyes at that snogging couple on the tube ('They're in love!' 'Yeah, but I can see their spittle CONNECTING').

You know the kind: you feel guilty for saying anything mean to them. They have that slightly shocked look, and laugh nervously at your HILARIOUS (if slightly off-colour) jokes, not because they find them funny, but to be polite. In fact, they probably find them quite offensive, judging by their split-second  uncomfortable glance to the side as if to say, 'Please rescue me from this nutter NOW'.

I'm not saying that they should become a grade-A bitch, because it's lovely to be nice. All I'm saying is: take a day off once in a while. Set your inner voice free. I don't seriously believe you think about kittens and puppies all the time. Say what you're really thinking. Be honest. Even to me. Especially to me. There's nothing better in my books than someone having the balls to tell someone else that they're being a complete knobhead. Or about someone else. Perhaps not quite as constructive, but every bit as fun.

I feel like I'm painting a bad picture of myself. I'm a good person and my heart's in the right place. But I'm human. No-one can like everyone. It's impossible. And there are a lot of knobs in the world. Ok, I feel I'm overcompensating - that's enough now.

And on a personal level, if you've got common hatred of something, be it that girl who always has a cheese and onion pasty on the tube every morning, that twat who is talking REALLY loudly on the phone to impress the girl sitting opposite you (and he's failing really badly) or a colleague who's so far up his or own arse that it would be rude not to share a 'what a tosser' look when they look the other way.

*Image from themeanings.com

Note: This is an exercise for me, rather than anything you'd probably like to read

It's been ages since I've blogged or even written, call it writers block, except it wasn't that I didn't have anything to say, or even that I didn't have anything to write about, it's just that I couldn't be arsed. 

I reckon it was the environment that I was in. I think having white walls is like, t he anti-inspirer for me. I need to decorate my walls, or be around people, because otherwise there are no distractions that are physical, only distractions that are not actually here, like something on my computer screen, or the TV, or something else.

Also, I have come to realise that writing, for me, is all about looking busy. If I'm in a cafe, or with other people at least a bit of the time, I will write just so I look busy and writery, and if I'm looking busy and writery, I might as well be busy and writery. 

Also, I don't have a charger, and no internet connection, and the dog ate my homework, and I conveniently forgot that I have the use of a smartphone and wait for it, good old-fashioned pen and paper.

The next blog post will be far more interesting, I promise. I'm in a coffee shop, I'm practically honour bound.