Out and About

Still hobbling with my woefully damaged knee (sympathy please!) I thought it best to try a bit of light exercise and so went walkies with my camera at lunchtime around the Clerkenwell Road, Leather Lane Market and Hatton Garden. 

Leather Lane Market

Tucked between Greville Street and Clerkenwell Road, this market in the heart of the city is almost unknown to tourists. It's an outpost of real London where office workers go to graze at lunch time in the numerous sandwich bars. And lunch times is when to see this market at its most frenetically busy.

As well as having a good feed, you can also buy shoes, clothes, handbags, potted plants, jewellery, fruit and veg and electrical goods, all at extremely keen prices. There's been a market here for over 300 years.

If you think you can guess the origin of the street name, think again - it's got nothing to do with an ancient leather trade. In the 13th century the street was called Le Vrunelane, possibly the name of a local merchant. In the 14th century this became corrupted to Loverone Lane, subsequently to Liver and finally to the Leather we know today.

The Clock House

Everything to eat.

Through the lunchtime crowds.
Hatton Garden

Hatton Garden is a street and area near Holborn in London, England. It derives its name from the garden of the bishops of Ely, which was given to Sir Christopher Hatton by Elizabeth I in 1581, during a vacancy of the see.

The area around Hatton Garden has been the centre of London's jewellery trade since medieval times. The old City of London had certain streets, or quarters, dedicated to types of business, and the area around Hatton Garden became a centre for jewellers and jewellery.

Nearly 300 of the businesses in Hatton Garden are in the jewellery industry and over 55 shops represent the largest cluster of jewellery retailers in the UK.

Diamonds, rubies and pearls.

A certain lack of originality, diamond geezers.

Side streets and frommies going about their business.

Last Night at the Stow

Last greyhound racing meet at Walthamstow Stadium on Saturday.

Supporters took a 15,000-strong petition against the closure to Walthamstow Town Hall, east London.

After 75 years of racing its owners sold the venue to housing developers.

New owner London and Quadrant Housing Trust said: "At the moment our intention is to continue with the development as planned."

The stadium was first opened in 1933 by William Chandler, who started out operating as an illegal street bookmaker.

In addition to its regular fans, it has hosted public figures such as Sir Winston Churchill and actors Lana Turner, Vinnie Jones and Brad Pitt.

But Mr Chandler's grandson Charles said operations had become "unsustainable".

the greyhounds raced around Walthamstow Stadium, in northeast London, for the final time on Saturday night, excitement and sadness went neck-and-neck in the packed stands. Long before the gates opened, hundreds of punters had queued outside the Art Deco frontage of the stadium, known as the Stow. Those gates were soon closed again, the Stow full to its 7,000 capacity. After the final race several hundred fans ran on to the track, taking snapshots and souvenirs. Somebody doing a Kenneth Wolstenholme impression said: “Some people are on the track, they think it's all over. It is now ....”

One of those “pig sick” about the closure was Barrie Clegg, chairman of the local greyhound owners' association. When he met his wife, Debbie, 24 years ago his chat-up line was to ask how close she lived to the dog track. These days they work hard to rehome retired greyhounds, and have been at the fore of SOS, Save Our Stow campaign. Mick Puzey, a trainer, said that the stress had kept him awake at nights and given him “terrible nosebleeds”. He at least got see to his dog, Perceptive Pacey, win the penultimate race. Celebrity dog track is running out of time

• Gone to the Dogs: the last race at Walthamstow

• The Stow was built in 1933 by William Chandler, a street-corner bookmaker, and had been owned by his family until its sale this year to property developers and a housing association for an undisclosed sum. The decision caused a lot of bad feeling, but the Chandlers point to losses of more than £500,000 for the year ended February 2008. Charles Chandler, the company chairman, said that he was deeply upset, but the business had become unsustainable.

  That has done little to mollify those who see the Stow as a public institution. Before the racing began on Saturday, the SOS campaign marched on Walthamstow Town Hall, supported by Neil Gerrard, the local Labour MP and former greyhound-owner, and Ian Duncan Smith, the Conservative MP for nearby Chingford. The campaign hopes to persuade the new owners to sell or lease the track back to a consortium fronted by the trainer Ricky Holloway, but so far this has been ruled out.

  The closure of Walthamstow leaves Britain with 29 registered greyhound tracks, and London with only one - Wimbledon. At the sport's postwar peak, 50 million a year packed into 77 tracks. But the shift to betting in shops and online has hit tracks hard. Despite £2.3 billion a year gambled on greyhounds, turnover at the Walthamstow tote fell from £16.85 million in 1989 to £8.76 million last year.

  Before the sale was announced three months ago, attendance at the Stow had slumped to a couple of thousand on Saturday and a couple of hundred on a wet Tuesday. Yet in the run-up to its closure, the crowds streamed in, which suggests that there is still life in the old dogs. There were all sorts at the Stow on Saturday night, from dog men to cool cats, and the speakers complained of illegally parked Lamborghinis and Mercedes. The only cloth cap in evidence was worn by the musician Jools Holland.

  The bookies joshed that they would pay winning punters “next Tuesday”. “Is grief too strong a word?”, somebody asked. Driving past the stadium after midnight, and seeing the neon lights already turned off, a mini-cab driver said: “If Gordon Brown can find billions to save the bankers at Northern Rock, why can't he save our dogs at the Stow?”.
  
  Last Night at the Stow
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I did most of my racing at Bedford, which is far more suitable for a lady. Not like all those nasty, rough boys who run at Walthamstow. That's not racing, that's wrestling.

  
  

  I don't know much but I know what I like. I like sardines. Smelly ones, please.
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  Pah! Posing, Prima Dona Princess! Walthamstow's a proper dog's track; it's not for the namby-pamby pooches of this world.
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

Wild Fruit

The other garden to look out for at this time of year is the wild one at the back of Walthamstow Town Hall. This is where we get our fruits and berries to make Fruits of the Forest yoghurt. No, I lied there. It's to make sloe gin and damson vodka and other winter tipples.

Bit of a rainy day today. The weather this summer has only been really good for slugs and snails who are doing ever so well, much to the disgust of most gardeners.

Festoons of elderberries; these are always prolific but unfortunately they are not well favoured for liquor making as they are considered too tart.

And blackberies doing very well as usual. These make a very nice but not spectacular drink with vodka. There is no shortage of blackberries; the bushes have loads of fruit. 

The other fecund fruit is the wild damson or bullace which is coming on nicely; three weeks ago all these fruits were quite green. However, the crop is not as good as last year's when the branches were drooping with the weight of the fruit.

The damsons have a nice bluish bloom on their skins but they are not ready for picking yet. They should be ripe by early September.

The real stars of the show are buried deep in the hedgerow and you have to know where to look. Let's get our boots muddy as we search for the Blackthorn bush.

There they are! Get your head into the body of the bush and then look up and across. Keep looking and you will start to spot them; sloes. The golden nuggets of the hedgerow. These little berries make sloe gin, the finest fruit liquor of them all.

Sloes are barely half the size of damsons and nowhere near as prolific. They grow in clusters of three or four but under the leaves making them hard to spot. This is a hard-won harvest; you get precious few berries and the Blackthorn bush always seems to be surrounded by nettles. But the effort is worth it as sloe gin is magnificent. Not to be picked until the end of September.

Public enemy number one.

Why do we bother exhibit A. This is a glass of last year's Damson Gin; notice the light, tawny colour. A lovely fruit liquor for the cooler weather. 

Why do we bother exhibit B. This is a glass of last year's Blackberry Vodka. Admire the deep, dark, rich colour of the infusion. If only you could taste or smell it, it fills the room. 'Ere, though! Some bugger's had a sip from it already! Is nothing sacred?

Salsa Verde

I know all about green tomatoes; they're the ones that have not yet turned red. I'm not daft. "Not necessarily so" cries Gardener Hils, fresh from her greenhouse. "They might be Tomatillos". And with this she plonked down the first pickings of her tomatillo crop in triumph. Take that, sir! Now, I don't know tomatillos from tomahawks so I googled it. You can do this with your tomatillos and you can do that but what you must do is make Salsa Verde.

 

Here they are, fresh from the greenhouse. Tomatillos, also known as Green tomatoes, or Mexican tomatoes or Husk tomatoes. Ain't they lovely?

Odd looking coves; half way between a normal tomato and one of those Cape Gooseberry physalis things. Lovely shade of green but not all of them are green; depends on the variety. Thank you Gardener Hils, now sod off.

Here are the ingredients for Salsa Verde (green sauce for those deprived of a classical education) You need tomatillos and a variety of all the usual green suspects: green onions, green chilli peppers, limes and a nice bunch of coriander leaves or the one that you had left over from last week. Garlic because it's good for you and a red chilli because I like the colour; it goes nicely with the green (I only used the green ones)

Grill the tomatillos, peppers and garlic for about 5-6 minutes. This is supposed to bring out the flavours. Allow to cool.

Here's the roughly chopped grilled veg ready to go into the blitzing pot with all the other roughly chopped ingredients plus a bit of salt and white sugar.

Traditionalists would do the blitzing with a pestle and mortar but I am a yob, so I shoved in me hand blender and gave it some welly. Whizzzz, Whizzzzzz!

Salsa Verde in a sweet little dish.

And finally, salsa verde and tortilla chips, vicar? Oooh, don't mind if I do. Of course, we had to have the usual chilli farce. I only put one in as I did not want it to be too hot for little Miss Sensitive gob; I thought it only fair that she should have a taste considering that she grew the tomatillos and defended them from slug attacks.

"Hmmm, it's alright",  I said "It's a bit mild though; could definately do with a bit more chilli". Hilsey dips her tortilla chip in the green stuff, places it delicately in her mouth and promptly goes bright red in the face and lets out an ear-piercing scream "Aaaarghhhh!!! It's like red-hot lava!!!!!!!!" As usual.

She's too sensitive, that girl. Should have had a lot more vindaloos as a nipper. Quite nice, the old salsa verde; needs a bit more chilli though.

How does your Garden Grow?

Hils the Gardener was a little frisky the other day; flouncing around her garden like a young faun. I thought that she had been at the bottle but no, it was gardener's delight. We have come to that stage in the growing year where, after a good dose of sun and rain, all your precious plantlings are coming through and your heart is filled with joy as you contemplate a good crop; possibly a glut.

Luscious, plump and delicious sweet brown Turkey figs. If only there were more of them. I could eat figs until I look like one, hmmm come to think of it I already do.

Fields of sweet basil. Oh, alright. Trays of sweet basil; pray for some sun and get some real flavour into those leaves. We love basil.

Found as a young orphan in the valley near Orba this little Spanish shrub has taken to its new life in East London very nicely. But it still dreams of the orange groves of its native land. For you, little shrub, one day; a journey...

It is so happy here that it has even managed to flower this year. Sweet! Como estas, mi amigo? Muy bien gracias, Bebe!

Most of the tomatoes are still green but the golden yellows are starting to come on very nicely. Let's see the reds!

Raspberries on the raspberry bush. A little washed out you say? Never; these are also a yellow variety and very nice they are too. A milder flavour compared to their raspberry-coloured cousins.

But there's always some red in the garden; here they are, rosy cheeked and blushing. Apples on the apple tree.

Fushcia. My favourite flower; I love that colour. It always reminds me of Prince Murat who wore amaranth trousers. Pooftah!

Lovely looking plums on the plum tree. The only way to get nice plums is to grow your own (the law of plums)

Tomatillos in the greenhouse. These are a new crop never tried before and we await their ripening with interest. For those of a curious disposition, the tomatillo fruit is covered by a paper-like husk and as the fruit matures, it fills the husk which splits and turns brown. Tomatillos are also known as green tomatoes and are a key ingredient in South American green sauces.

Blackberries busily invading from next door's garden. We don't mind; come on in and get ripening. Blackberry liquor again this year?