Food - Food Food

Tuesday, late lunchtime. I’m so hungry I feel I could pass out, despite what could be described as three breakfasts. I wander down the High Street, taking in all the quick-fix possibilities it offers up, and dismissing them. Then down Station Street. The smell of Chaula’s makes things worse, but I don’t want a curry. I wander into Food Food, where Sophie Orloff cooks different things up every day, and sells them to take away. She makes me stir an enormous Christmas pudding mix, and make a wish. I silently wish that she’s got something I can eat immediately. “Have you got anything I can eat immediately?” I ask. “Spanish chicken?” she says. ladeling out a bowlful, I pay her £3.75, and I take it into the Lansdown, where they don’t mind me eating it.

It’s delicious, and very hot. There’s a nice aftertaste. The sauce is thin enough to need a spoon, but thick enough to stick around your palate a while. The chicken tastes fresh, and like it enjoyed its life. I gulp a pint of Harveys between mouthfuls. Afterwards I take the bowl back to Sophie, and ask about the ingredients. One of the great things about little indie places, that. “Chicken a la cerveza,” she says, “with mushrooms, rosemary, sherry and lager.” “San Miguel?” “The Dutch equivalent.” I leave with a £1 slice of banana cake in my hand, a well satisfied and well sated customer. Food Food, the takeaway place with the homely touch, so good they named it twice. AL