Meals On (Two) Wheels: The Barn on Holloway Road

A north London cafe that has earned its rightful place amongst the capital's top gastronomic choices

The Barn could be that place you take a photo of for when you’re down in the dumps. The layout, the staff and the homemade food make for an unforgettable experience.

This lower-ground eatery (you have to go down a few steps before you enter food heaven) is located on Holloway Road, north London, a short saunter from Highbury and Islington Tube and Overground stations and around the corner from Arsenal Football Club’s The Emirates.

With so many restaurants and greasy spoons around, a food lover is always spoiled for choice in this area. I’ve had some lovely fish and chips from Fish and Skewers, just on the other side of the road. I have used my injera to mop up the juices of cubed tender lamb in my awaze tibs at Mesi’s Kitchen.

However, when it comes to breakfast, I’ll stop at The Barn, if time allows. The key phrase is “if time allows”. Time stops at The Barn. You’re ushered to your seat by one of the three brothers who run the café and immediately you feel at home. A home you’re not in any rush to leave any time soon.

On my latest visit I went for the grilled halloumi on toast with roast veg combo. It also came with mixed baby leaf, balsamic glaze and chilli oil. All this was laid on two pieces of toasted ciabatta. The ciabatta was warm, the salad crunchy and the halloumi nicely done. To drink, I had what I always have: a strong mocha (sometimes with a triple shot of espresso, if I’m in the mood)

The place was almost empty when I arrived but after a few minutes two regulars came down. I realised they were regulars because the staff asked about both their wellbeing and that of their relatives’. One of them was a woman who pulled out a laptop from her bag. Another one who was not going to leave any time soon.

Restaurants, cafes and bars have taken a big hit during these Covid-ravaged times. It goes without saying that whenever I’ve got the time and finances to stop at one of these establishments and sample their food, I do so without thinking of a certain price hike (bearing in mind that the bill came up to just over a tenner, that was not a bad deal). Places like The Barn are not just food joints but hubs. The man eating his “The Barn Breakfast” two tables away from me would definitely agree.

Meals on (Two) Wheels

Andu Cafe: the flavour of Ethiopia in Dalston

Some of us have kept the high street food economy going with occasional takeaway orders during these lockdown times.

It was my girlfriend who told me about Andu Café in Dalston, east London. This is an area well known to both of us. We’ve been to The Arcola Theatre, just down the road and to gigs at the Dalston Eastern Curve, on Dalston Lane.

However, I knew nothing about Andu, an Ethiopian vegan restaurant on Kingsland Road. Already this is another place to add to Meal on (Two) Wheels’ ever-increasing list of must-visit cafes and eateries in the Big Smoke.

Andu’s success is a combination of low-price, high-quality food, friendly service and cash-only policy. The punters outside (some of whom looked like regulars) were evidence of this.

Beautiful, tasty and well-presented food
(photo by the author)

The menu’s simplicity betrays its tastiness. There’s only the sampler platter to try. This is a six-dish mix of spicy lentil stew, greens, spiced potatoes and onion, two split peas and some vegetables. This is usually served with either rice or injera, the traditional Ethiopian bread. I would strongly recommend choosing the latter.

I’ve written in this section before about Ethiopian food. Andu’s food is as good as Mesi’s Kitchen’s, even though the latter’s menu is far more varied.

The gomen were nice and crunchy. The yesimir wot (lentil stew cooked in a Berbere sauce) was well seasoned. The lightly curried mix of cabbage, potatoes and onions (tikil gomen) was tender and well cooked.

This is street food the way it should taste: gloriously satisfying and cheap. As London prepares to open up the doors of its cafes, restaurants and pubs, Andu’s should be on everyone’s list. Whether to sit in or take away, it won’t matter, the grub will still be good.

Meals on (Two) Wheels: Accra Palace in Upper Clapton

Who cares where jollof rice comes from when the food is this good?

The Third World War – if ever there is another one, that is – won’t start over oil or territories. No, the next world conflict will probably kick off over the provenance of one of Africa’s most delicious and emblematic dishes: jollof rice.

The coordinates we can agree on: West Africa. We can also trace its roots back to the Senegambia region, in the ancient Wolof or Jolof (see?) empire. But that’s about it. Things get a bit murky thereafter. Senegalese, Gambians, Cameroonians, Liberians, Nigerians and Ghanaians all claim ownership of this iconic recipe.

Accra Palace on Upper Clapton Road is not interested in murkiness. Its business is food. And food – good food – is what it delivers. Over time I’ve become a regular, especially when my former favourite Ghanaian restaurant, Rebecca’s in Edmonton (Enfield), is no longer within easy reach.

The dish in question (photo by the author)

The restaurant’s location is excellent. Sandwiched between Stamford Hill’s long-established Orthodox Jewish community and an already hipster-driven, gentrified Hackney, Accra Palace adds a multicultural touch to what used to be a rather drab, drive-through area.

What I love about Accra Palace is both its service and grub. Both come with a smile. My usual fix is jollof rice, fried chicken and plantain. The rice is loose and soft. I once asked one of the staff at Accra Palace what type of rice they used and she told me that they favoured long grain rice (Thai or jasmine).

The other element that makes jollof rice such a distinctive West African staple is its spice mix. In the Ghanaian version warm spices are used most of the time. This means clove, nutmeg or cinnamon. Something else that sets Ghanaians apart from other jollof rice-consuming West African countries is their use of the same protein stock (beef or chicken, for instance) to simmer their dish.

None of the above answers the one million-dollar question: where does jollof rice come from? But as long as we have places like Accra Palace, the provenance is irrelevant. Only the food – and good food at that – matters.

Meals on (Two) Wheels

Colombia may have gone out to England’s Eric Dier’s game-winning penalty in last year’s World Cup, but luckily, that temporary setback never affected its well-known cuisine. El Parador Rojo in Seven Sisters, Tottenham, is evidence of this.

Meals on (Two) Wheels has been to this restaurant a few times and it rocked up there again recently, gobbling down an overflowing plate of chicken, rice, chips, salad and beans (yes, cycling does make one hungry and the staff are familiar with our regular cycling-themed section, so the portions are usually generous).

What makes this establishment stand out in an area choc-a with international bars, cafes and restaurants is its atmosphere. El Parador Rojo is that very modern London combination of good music-filled atmosphere (no muzak here, thank you very much, just, mainly, Colombian salsa, as heart-warming as the food being served), clientele and staff. The restaurant sits on a popular corner, Seven Sisters Road and Tottenham High Road and it is well served by the Underground (Victoria Line), rail (all trains go to London Liverpool Street or Enfield/Cheshunt in the opposite direction) and an efficient bus network.

Cyclingwise (after all this section is bicycle-related), getting to El Parador Rojo is easy. This part of South Tottenham is almost incline-free and bicycle racks are dotted about. It is also part of the CS1 (Cycle Superhighway 1) and therefore full of quiet roads nearby on which to ride your two-wheeler undisturbed. Should you resume your travel eastwards, you will have Stamford Hill to contend with but that’s a small hurdle. The slope is easy to overcome and after that you have the flatter-than-flat space of east London under your feet (or wheels, rather). To the north lies Enfield and as long as you stick to the high road, including Fore Street and Hertford Road you will have a smooth journey to the sticks.

If you do encounter any hills or elevations, you can rely on the food you consume to take care of that. Whether we’re talking buñuelos (fried dough balls) or empanadas (pasties), you’re spoiled for choice at EL Parador Rojo. When Meals on (Two) Wheels last visited it found its chicken to be well-cooked, with the skin on and slightly crispy. The rice was loose and soft, just the way it should be. MoTW added a ration of plantains half way through its meal. They had a tempting, light-syrupy colour. The beans were tender.

After scraping the last bits off its plate, Meals on (Two) Wheels got back on its bike and as it cycled away, belly full and energized and with the echo of another salsa song in its ears, it thought: Now, where were we regarding hills?

© 2019

Meals on (Two) Wheels

When it comes to music, Jamaicans are never short of a banger (or more), so it goes without saying that when it comes to their cuisine they favour a zinger there as well. Rudie’s in Dalston, east London, is that kind of place where you can get a piece of real Jamaican grub at a decent price in comfy and homely surroundings.

Meals on Two Wheels rocked up there recently and after struggling to find a parking space for its bicycle (this is east London after all!), it rested its muscular behind on one of the establishment’s straight-backed seats. A gloomy and nippy winter Saturday afternoon was the only excuse needed to tuck into a plate of Peppered Shrimps and a (as it turned out) very generous portion of plantain (by the way, the correct pronunciation of "plantain" might be reason enough to start WWIII. If you don't believe me put a West-Indian and an African in the same room.). The prawns were king-sized and bathed in Boston sauce. They were accompanied by a welcome committee, made up of cherry tomatoes and avocado salsa.

Whilst over the years Meals on Two Wheels has gone from no-hot to vindaloo-hot, nothing could prepare our regular, bicycle-powered section for the might of Jamaican hot. The Old Jamaican Ginger Beer that was ordered with the bite was not enough to quell the fire. Luckily, a very helpful Italian waitress brought over a glass of milk. This went some way to mitigate the inferno caused by the Peppered King Prawns.

However, do not let this small incident put you off Rudie’s. Pound for pound, it is one of the better eateries in east London today. The shrimps were well-cooked and tender. They were also plentiful. The plantain was of the as-Mama-cooks-them-back-home variety. And at just under fifteen quid for a dish that could have been a main (their platters range from £7.50 to £12. They also cater to vegans), Rudie’s is a snip. Meals on Two Wheels has since been back with a couple of friends.

Just a piece of advice, though. Make sure that if you do go to Rudie’s, you’re not out marathon-training the next day. Your stomach might disagree with your choice.

© 2019

Meals on (Two) Wheels

Cycle from Drayton Park, down Holloway Road to Highbury Corner and you will be treated to a slice of the broad culinary life London has to offer. From Mexican takeaway Amigos to purpose-built boozer The Lamb, in this short stretch of Islington, someone like me, a navel-gazing, metropolitan, two-wheel-enthusiast (or whatever recent appellation Nigel Farage and his gang of merry Brexiteers have come up with to describe us, Remain-supporting city-dwellers), is never far away from top quality nosh.

Choosing an eatery where to rest my forty-something-year-old bones while avoiding the Christmas razzmatazz recently proved to be a bit of a hard find. I finally settled for Mesi’s Kitchen, a restaurant that billed itself as the hub of authentic Ethiopian cuisine.

Mesi’s did not disappoint at all. I had the azifa as a starter. Served cold, this was a beautifully presented vegan-friendly dish consisting of whole lentils cooked, mashed and blended with onions, jalapeño and vegetable oil. A hint of garlic and lemon juice provided a much-welcomed touch of zing. The lentils were tender and had a nice kick to them.

This was followed by the main course, awaze tibs. Lamb cubes marinated and sautéed with onion, tomato and seasoned butter. All served with salad on a bed of Injera, a large wheat-and-rice-made pancake that lined the whole plate on which the lamb was served. The meat was cooked to perfection, including the edges (I’m certainly not a fussy eater, but one of my gripes with Turkish cuisine, for instance, is that their grills char the sides of the meat all too often). The awazw tibs was hot but not too hot. It was the sort of spiciness that normally leaves a lingering, pleasant aftertaste long after the last piece of meat has been digested.

Outside, London had turned a winter-crackling, soft-grey colour. I am not a fan of winter at all (give me autumn and spring any time), especially the snow-free variety that the British capital offers, but I do like the renewal-like feel this season brings. This is the time of the year when the falling leaves from autumn become fallen leaves on pavements, rooftops and awnings. On the latter two, very often leaves take the shape of birds. A beak-looking one here, an is-it-or-is-it-not flutter of wings there. Dark-brown leaves whose gentle motion is caused by a cold-snap breeze that forces pedestrians to zip up and rush on.

Inside, even the music didn’t disappoint. Instead of the usual, season-specific Mariah Carey letting everyone know several times a day, week in, week out, what she wanted for Christmas, Mesi’s Kitchen offered a varied selection of Ethiopian music, some of which I was familiar with through my love of Gigi. Old-time Ethiopique recordings mixed with modern pop in a smooth blend that sounded nothing like the muzak you usually get in more upmarket (and pricier) places.

Two expressos later (very good, by the way. Strong as I like them.) it was time to saddle up and go. The bill came at £18.90. Not bad for a part of London where you would normally cough up two thirds of that just for the starter. As I got back on my bike and cycled down Drayton Park, the day’s earlier crispiness had become an early-evening ice-cold snap. I pedalled away finding myself humming, surprisingly, a melody by Tèshomè Meteku.

© 2018

All photos were taken by the blog author