I arranged to meet a friend at the pie and mash shop near Welling Corner at his suggestion. While I waited for him to turn up, I looked in a few places nearby. The cinema that became a bingo hall that become a church, the caribbean food store complete with every kind of powdered fish, the store that offers to cut foam for you. Foam sounds like the easiest thing to cut in the universe except perhaps fresh air.
The pie and mash shop was easy to identify as it was called 'Pie & Mash Shop'. Things got a little trickier when we went to the counter to order. We both had more questions than we cared to admit, living most of our lives in South East London had not prepared us for this. Everyone else ordering 'one and one' like it was totally obvious didn't help. What sort of pies were they? 'Meat' perhaps? What is magic about the vinegar that makes it cost 80 pence?
I went conservative with 2 pies and mash, which I think must be 'two and one'. I did play the liquor card though, which I felt was quite brave as I had little idea what liquor was. And some beans. My friend went for plain old gravy, but with spotted dick for dessert. Good call, though the other deserts like cranberry or strawberry pudding sounded to be worth trying.
So no jellied eels for either of us. Nor mashed eels. Whoever knew that people mashed eels?
I waited two minutes for my food to come because baked beans are the only thing that was not immediately available, I watched my friend start to eat his. It looked sizeable and inviting, like a friendly eel prior to it's being jellied, perhaps. I also used this time to try to work out what the other diners were eating.
The first thing I wanted to try was the liquor, and it was thankfully fine, seeing that there was a pint of it over my lunch. Like gravy with parsley in it, but better than it sounds. Turns out that is more or less what liquor is; it was nice enough that I didn't regret it. The pies were not all that good. Far better than what you get in the average chip shop still in the packet, but thin and collapsed. They didn't taste bad though. The mash was creamy and plentiful. The baked beans met all the requirements I have of baked beans. With the two pies it came to just over a fiver, which wasn't bad seeing as I was totally stuffed for about six hours.
The spotted dick took a long time coming. Yes, you heard that right. I remember my friend whinging about this but thanks to all of my blood having been diverted to my stomach and the subsequent very partial consciousness, I have no idea whether it was to be recommended. It may never have actually arrived.
By the tills were signs offering to deliver to cockney parties, which sound like great fun. I imagine people slapping each other around with eels and eating huge pickled eggs whole. And delivery is free for parties at old peoples' homes.
I recommend this place for a cheap and tasty meal. The pies could have been better but the food overall was good and service friendly.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Pizza Hut, Eltham High Street
A walk to anywhere on Eltham High Street will inevitably start at Sainsbury’s car park. Without it, the town would have suffocated years ago. With it, the shops at least remain occupied.
To leave this place, the de facto town centre, involves either walking through enclosed alleyways or braving the narrow pavement beside a car ramp which dares boy racers to accelerate as much as possible with its demand of a 2mph speed limit.
Taking the alleyway past Greggs, we were barely on the High Street before slipping into the Pizza Hut. When the waitress came towards us, without thinking, I said ‘A table ideally not near them please’, pointing at the requisite screaming child sitting with her parents by the window.
We were seated accordingly. The surroundings were just as you would expect from a Pizza Hut, but we were hungry and happy to sit down. One of the joys of a chain is that there is no need to study a menu; when the waiter showed up we ordered with an efficiency that felt worthy of pride.
Shortly afterwards, we were given an empty bowl, a glass of Pepsi and a glass of Diet Pepsi. An unrewarding sip of mine, confirmed that I had been correctly given the ditchwater diet variety.
I got permission from my companion to take full responsibility for the task of constructing the salad and took the bowl to the salad bar. This is the main motivation behind braving the screaming infants to venture into a Pizza Hut.
With one salad bowl and one trip allowed, there is an obvious incentive to fill it. It is hard however, with or without a salad, to leave a Pizza Hut hungry. Making a work of art from the peppers, beetroot and blue cheese dressing is therefore as much the aim as is getting a large lunch.
Adding the ingredients must be done with care. While not scientifically established, it feels best to establish a firm base. Traditionally this was done with potato salad, though the company has seen fit to switch from a variety involving real-life pieces of potato for modern supermarket-bulk mayonnaise-lite stodge, which, taste aside, doesn’t do the job that I speculate the old type might feasibly have somehow done.
On top of this bottom layer, you are allowed to add lighter ingredients such as beetroot and sweetcorn, and perhaps some token leaves. We’re not going much for leaves. This is the main section of your salad.
Having achieved some height, perhaps approaching the top of the bowl, it is now time to use the secret weapon. Of course, cucumber. Thin slices are put around the rim of the bowl like petals, and extra levels of these slices added until the limit of bravery is reached. This serves to extend the bowl, allowing a far larger and more impressive salad to be created.
Whether it is deliberate, or down to staff being too lazy to chop properly, the cucumber slices were over a centimetre thick, something you now often see in these restaurants. It severely limits the salad potential, and choosing the exact slices of cucumber to use was always part of the fun. Yes, these are sad times.
There is hope however. Carrot sticks were an addition that I have never seen before and could potentially be used like steel joists to keep a burgeoning salad in order.
The top layer contains the lighter salad elements, in this way the task is akin to unloading a supermarket trolley in weight order, with the kilo of potato-mayonnaise-heart attack coming out first. If you are feeling extravagant, this is the time to add the blue cheese dressing and bacon bits. It’s also now that you should be thinking about the decorative elements to give your high street salad some pizzazz.
A common trick is to add the largest tomato bang in the middle like a Christmas tree fairy. Its weight submerging it up to its belly in the lighter salad below. Eltham Pizza Hut however offers only the most anaemic, watery tomatoes, so this was not an option.
Another part of the modernisation forced upon the salad lover is at the end of trolley, and hideously labelled as ‘salad toppers’. There is a selection of seeds, bread sticks, healthy dressings: anathema to those serious engaged in this serious business. What the hell am I supposed to do with nachos and breadsticks?
Indeed, there wasn’t even a ring of pepper to add some flair, so I placed a breadstick in the middle of the bowl, extending a full foot into the air. Like a one-fingered salute to the sunflower seed salad brigade. I walked back to my table.
By this time, the garlic bread with cheese had arrived, half it had disappeared and my companion had adopted a more satisfied look. It was exactly like garlic bread with cheese was and ever will be in Pizza Hut. Before I knew it, three quarters of mine had gone and I had to make a conscious effort to not wolf the final part down in a hungry daze.
There was now just the salad and the two of us. I tried to offer the unnecessary and incongruent bread stick but it was no use. I tackled it a bite at a time, looking out of the window and across the road at the bustling 99p store.
When the pizza came, it was good stuff. Half Hawaiian, half pepperoni, deep pan. If there’s one thing they can do quite well. A free refill of the ditchwater was offered and accepted, and a couple of slices later, we were sated.
So what can I say? The food was fine enough. The service was actually excellent. The children must be being weaned off the sugar, because I left relaxed and without ringing ears. Definitely a refuge to consider when braving the streets of Eltham.
To leave this place, the de facto town centre, involves either walking through enclosed alleyways or braving the narrow pavement beside a car ramp which dares boy racers to accelerate as much as possible with its demand of a 2mph speed limit.
Taking the alleyway past Greggs, we were barely on the High Street before slipping into the Pizza Hut. When the waitress came towards us, without thinking, I said ‘A table ideally not near them please’, pointing at the requisite screaming child sitting with her parents by the window.
We were seated accordingly. The surroundings were just as you would expect from a Pizza Hut, but we were hungry and happy to sit down. One of the joys of a chain is that there is no need to study a menu; when the waiter showed up we ordered with an efficiency that felt worthy of pride.
Shortly afterwards, we were given an empty bowl, a glass of Pepsi and a glass of Diet Pepsi. An unrewarding sip of mine, confirmed that I had been correctly given the ditchwater diet variety.
I got permission from my companion to take full responsibility for the task of constructing the salad and took the bowl to the salad bar. This is the main motivation behind braving the screaming infants to venture into a Pizza Hut.
With one salad bowl and one trip allowed, there is an obvious incentive to fill it. It is hard however, with or without a salad, to leave a Pizza Hut hungry. Making a work of art from the peppers, beetroot and blue cheese dressing is therefore as much the aim as is getting a large lunch.
Adding the ingredients must be done with care. While not scientifically established, it feels best to establish a firm base. Traditionally this was done with potato salad, though the company has seen fit to switch from a variety involving real-life pieces of potato for modern supermarket-bulk mayonnaise-lite stodge, which, taste aside, doesn’t do the job that I speculate the old type might feasibly have somehow done.
On top of this bottom layer, you are allowed to add lighter ingredients such as beetroot and sweetcorn, and perhaps some token leaves. We’re not going much for leaves. This is the main section of your salad.
Having achieved some height, perhaps approaching the top of the bowl, it is now time to use the secret weapon. Of course, cucumber. Thin slices are put around the rim of the bowl like petals, and extra levels of these slices added until the limit of bravery is reached. This serves to extend the bowl, allowing a far larger and more impressive salad to be created.
Whether it is deliberate, or down to staff being too lazy to chop properly, the cucumber slices were over a centimetre thick, something you now often see in these restaurants. It severely limits the salad potential, and choosing the exact slices of cucumber to use was always part of the fun. Yes, these are sad times.
There is hope however. Carrot sticks were an addition that I have never seen before and could potentially be used like steel joists to keep a burgeoning salad in order.
The top layer contains the lighter salad elements, in this way the task is akin to unloading a supermarket trolley in weight order, with the kilo of potato-mayonnaise-heart attack coming out first. If you are feeling extravagant, this is the time to add the blue cheese dressing and bacon bits. It’s also now that you should be thinking about the decorative elements to give your high street salad some pizzazz.
A common trick is to add the largest tomato bang in the middle like a Christmas tree fairy. Its weight submerging it up to its belly in the lighter salad below. Eltham Pizza Hut however offers only the most anaemic, watery tomatoes, so this was not an option.
Another part of the modernisation forced upon the salad lover is at the end of trolley, and hideously labelled as ‘salad toppers’. There is a selection of seeds, bread sticks, healthy dressings: anathema to those serious engaged in this serious business. What the hell am I supposed to do with nachos and breadsticks?
Indeed, there wasn’t even a ring of pepper to add some flair, so I placed a breadstick in the middle of the bowl, extending a full foot into the air. Like a one-fingered salute to the sunflower seed salad brigade. I walked back to my table.
By this time, the garlic bread with cheese had arrived, half it had disappeared and my companion had adopted a more satisfied look. It was exactly like garlic bread with cheese was and ever will be in Pizza Hut. Before I knew it, three quarters of mine had gone and I had to make a conscious effort to not wolf the final part down in a hungry daze.
There was now just the salad and the two of us. I tried to offer the unnecessary and incongruent bread stick but it was no use. I tackled it a bite at a time, looking out of the window and across the road at the bustling 99p store.
When the pizza came, it was good stuff. Half Hawaiian, half pepperoni, deep pan. If there’s one thing they can do quite well. A free refill of the ditchwater was offered and accepted, and a couple of slices later, we were sated.
So what can I say? The food was fine enough. The service was actually excellent. The children must be being weaned off the sugar, because I left relaxed and without ringing ears. Definitely a refuge to consider when braving the streets of Eltham.
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