If you weren’t as yet aware, I spent some time in Newcastle over the festive period. Truly, it must be unnerving to not know what I am doing every second of every day, but such is the benefit conferred to those who have broken free from the iron grip of social media.
Moving on from overt criticism of the corporations responsible for the downfall of civilised society, let’s talk about a pub.
Low Lights Tavern, the oldest pub in North Shields, located at North Shields Fish Quay. Offering home cooking including delicious handmade pies, real ales, selection of Scottish Whisky, wines & spirits with a warm old fashioned welcome. Fish Quay
Having celebrated my 23rd birthday last month, I know that beguiling old age has its drawbacks, but equally debilitating benefits. This being the oldest pub in North Shields stands to help it greatly. The service was top notch, as was the cider and beer. My father ordered a locally brewed beer, whose name escapes me. I must apologise for this, yeast water and I have never and shall never be great friends. Those with keen eyes will be able to see the Lesser-Spotted Paul (my father) in the image below.
Alas, I was full from my exquisite Christmas menu, so could not order any food. But I shall return to this jewel of a pub to do so. I’ve perused reviews of it on several platforms and now regret my lack of salivation during the time of my visit. Overall the atmosphere was just gorgeous. You all know I am a sucker for wooden support beams. Hence my adoration of The Bell Inn, which I re-visited recently. I loved how friendly the staff were, one of whom I knew from Birmingham! What a strange and debilitating coincidence that was, for the both of us. My spoken English does engender the idea that I’m a maniacal super-villain, a presumption I must combat on a daily basis.
Perhaps most astounding is the walk from the Fish Quay to Tynemouth. A little known fact about me is that I am quite fit. This is a conclusion which many passers by reach, but I am fit physically as well as visually. I love exercise and cycle upwards of ten miles a day in Birmingham. I found this walk absolutely invigorating and recommend it to anyone in the area, especially after a hearty meal at the Low Lights Tavern.
When one is in central Newcastle, they can find it difficult to avoid the luring prospect of spending their lunchtime in a well-known chain restaurant. As you know, I am on a crusade against commercial eateries. Giving one’s money to enormous enterprises does not appeal to this reviewer. I find the food is often synthetic and homogenised to please the most people possible. Smaller eateries, such as Di Marco, are often more genuine in their approach to dining.
The first thing which will shock you on entering the premises is the wave of Italian you’ll hear being spoken. This is the first of many good signs. Each of the staff I met there during my recent visit, as well as the numerous times I went here last August, are Italian. Any opportunity to practice my Italian is more than welcome. But the possibility of eating well while doing so is a rare occurrence indeed.
Speaking of food, pictured below is the arrabiata I ordered. Absolutely superb. Clearly made to order on the day. The pasta was cooked perfectly, the sauce was light and not too liquid. I deplore of restaurants who hand me a dripping sauce plate. Di Marco did it perfectly. As with the other two pasta dishes.
Of course, when my family and I go out, we try at least one fork full of every dish on the table. Hence I had the privilege of trying Di Marco’s attempt at a carbonara. I had made the genuine Roman one a few days prior, complete with guanciale. I’m glad to say that although the menu claims this one had cream, I detected no such atrocity. Perfect attempt (without guanciale of course). It is pictured below.
Now finally, Father ordered the Ragu. This is the correct name for what is commonly referred to as ‘Bolognese’. In fact I think that is how Di Marco must have it on their menu. Anyway this was the best out of the three dishes. Just absolutely wonderful. As well made as when I do it. The holy trinity of carrots; onion and celery were present. The tomato sauce was top notch. The beef was high quality. Stunning combination. You can see it below.
Lastly, with some excellent coffee, we ordered two cakes. The lemon one you see in the featured image of this post, and a strawberry cheesecake, pictured below. The sponge was so soft and smooth. The buttery biscuit case of the cheesecake was superbly flavoursome. One left this restaurant feeling light of stomach but not light of pocket. The whole meal came to an impressive £27.
Overall, if you want the most genuine Italian restaurant at a fraction of the high street chain ‘Italian restaurant’ price, this is the place to go. I’m elated that this place exists. Equally, I am mad at myself for not dining there more frequently. I hope that when you are in Newcastle, you’ll take your lunch at Di Marco. You’ll leave with a depth of satisfaction which is seldom felt.
For one reason or another, when one has lived in Harrogate for a certain amount of time, they are called back there. This day was no exception. Those who know me will be aware of my revulsion towards conventions. I sacrificed 9 years of my life to this town and I was not about to give it another hour. So on our way down from Newcastle, I fought against each successive suggestion that we ought to simplify the whole process by having another synthetic meal in our hitherto-home.
Nay I say! Richmond is the perfect distance between the two towns and I had not eaten in La Piazza for 6 years. So there we went. Now, knowing that we were to cover almost 150 miles by the end of the day, we did not opt for knock-out meals. By that I mean meals which are so heavy that you are forced to take an afternoon nap.
LINGUINE PICANTE (G, Ce) Spicy Italian sausage with grilled mixed peppers and onions in a rich tomato sauce
The lighting in this place at noon was quite dramatic, so you’ll forgive me for posting phenomenal photos. Mother ordered the spicy linguini. I am happy to report it wasn’t debilitatingly spicy. And cooked to perfection, I might add.
SPICY RISOTTO (G, Ce, M) Thin strips of beef and chic ken cooked with onion, peppers, mushroom in red wine spicy tomato sauce
Father opted for the spicy risotto. Same concept as the pasta but with risotto and strips of beef. Thankfully they were anything but thin. The flavour was on point, the rice was cooked well (very easy to fail risottos). and of course the lighting makes the dish seem far more appealing than it already was.
RISOTTO ALFREDO (M) Arborio rice with mushrooms and chicken in a light creamy sauce
My own meal was a winner. Just the perfect combination of flavours in a light sauce. The portion size was enormous and yet, I left feeling satisfied but not overburdened. This is an important factor in any luncheon for me.
RAVIOLI DI POLLO (G, E, M) Pasta parcels filled with spinach and ricotta cheese with pancetta, fresh chicken and petit pois in a cream sauce
Celia, in her wisdom, took my advice and avoided the Carbonara. This is a tip for all of you. any Carbonara which is made with bacon; onions or cream should be avoided at all costs. Even if starvation is the only alternative. I remembered this dish from 6 years ago. Indeed, when the Richmond girl I was dating came to visit me in my first year of University, I recreated it for us. I was so impressed by this La Piazza dish that I wrote down all the ingredients I could taste on a napkin. Then I made it again and got it almost right. But the real thing is a spectacle in itself. Wonderful wonderful dish. Easily the best meal on the menu.
The tiramisu was visually and culinarily astounding. No pretentious filter could do it justice. Really quite impressive. Of course we were so stuffed from the enormous portion size of the last course that we could only handle one dessert between four.
Overall, I am still impressed with La Piazza and I am elated to be able to share this special restaurant with you, here. I hope the next time you are in North Yorkshire, you shall give it a try.
First post of the new year. What a journey the past 12 months have been. I’ve posted on average every 3 days, bringing you the freshest content I could. I imagine as the coming year picks up, this may go down to merely one post every 4 days. But I’m at peace with this. One must moderate the amount of time they spend face to face with technology. Before I came to my senses, I would post to Instagram twice daily. That took so much of my time and really ended in nothing being achieved. I’ve come to my senses in many respects over the past year.
I hope that the pervasive changes in my life have been reflected in my writing and the subject of my podcasts as well as my music recommendations. One of the greatest changes I implemented was to listen to at least one new album per day. My music taste has expanded massively. Though it may sound absurd, music and I share a deep connection. I’ve seldom been moved so profoundly moved as I am listening to magnificent music. But enough about me and the depth of change I’ve experienced in the past annum. Let me tell you about a pub.
Once you get past the persistent subtle urine smell, this is a real top shelf pub. They have over 200 beers to choose from. As well as that, there is an impressive amount of cider on offer. Some smooth and some sparkling.
The bar keeps are deeply knowledgeable. They know exactly which of their numerous beers is needed. My chums and I tried Belgian; English and even Japanese beers. I opted for several ciders. We left quite unbalanced.
Overall I am quite impressed with this pub. The atmosphere is great; it is in the centre of town and there aren’t so many tables as to overwhelm with people. One of the problems I have with places like wetherspoons is that there are too many tables. If even half of them are full, you can’t hear yourself think. At the Postal Vaults, you’ll always be able to have a conversation without exerting yourself. I like this.
You can see part of St Nick in the mirror
While the decor does consist exclusively of beer bottles; The Postal Vaults is well worth a visit. I’m glad that I found it and I’ll certainly be going back.
I’m always on the lookout for the next delightful cafe. There’s only so far the one in the university basement can take you. I adore our in house team but sometimes change is good for the system, or so my liver and lungs tell me.
Our final lesson of 2018 had concluded. Our heads were filled with Real Estate Completion date intricacies and it was decided that we should have a hearty breakfast. I had grown tired of the usual haunts so decided to go a few hundred metres further astray. Thus my friends and I discovered Coffee Tales, and what a find.
St Nick hates beans. I want everybody to know this in case they host him for a meal containing any edible seeds. I had to wait for someone else to order to document it for you, my fine readers.
It’s not that I resent beans massively. I resent baked beans specifically when they’re served in that tomato sauce, and particularly for breakfast. I resent it because I feel I moved past such things since childhood.
The bread was utterly crisp; the saucies were just divine and the egg was cooked to perfection. One seldom eats eggs so delightfully well-done.
Now usually, I wouldn’t eat before 1pm but this croissant was just delicious. Fluffy; crisp and reasonably priced. It went very well with my big old coffee. Coffee Tales is one of the few establishments which will allow me to ask for 4 shots of espresso in my americano. I’m glad they have no regard for my palpitations because I really needed to be woken up that day.
Panashe opted for the hot chocolate, which, as you can see, is dreamy. Of course being a strong Christian woman, she did not allow me anywhere near this beverage. Thusly, I am at a loss as to whether it was as tasty as it appears.
Overall, however, I would say the décor; service and location of Coffee Tales make for a strong positive vibe. I thoroughly enjoyed my time there. The condensation on the windows is a little off-putting but overall I recommend this wonderful place.
Now let us get the unpleasant aspects of this, and indeed many pubs around the country, out of the way: the music is unbearable. I live an existence surrounded by the most moving musical triumphs known to man. I’m often so shaken by the beauty of music that I’m brought to tears. Gosta Green’s music choice, however, ‘laisse à désirer’, as the French would say.
If one can move past the shocking choice; volume and quality of sound emanating from the speakers, Gosta Green is actually quite a charming pub. My friend St Nick, who is from Leeds, invited me to attend the weekly pub quiz. One more Yorkshireman turned up. Our heavenly threesome was then rudely interrupted by a Southerner. But my time in England has taught me that xenophobia is not desirable, and leads to people putting on strange accents to avoid it.
Blasting through my self-deprecation, the four of us took the quiz head on. The theme was ‘How I Met Your Mother’. I’ve never been one for Television so I didn’t know a damn thing about it! But you don’t want to hear about my general knowledge, let me say a few words about the pub itself.
The atmosphere at Gosta Green is as delightful as the food. During my time there, I sampled the halloumi fries and the mushroom wrap. From my first bite, it was clear to me that the oil they’d used to fry the halloumi was fresh and high quality. the crunch factor was excellent. As for my wrap, it was recommended by one of the barkeeps, who was herself a vegetarian. The wrap was delightful and filled well. The ingredients were clearly fresh and well put together. I had to add a little salt, but that’s perhaps on account of English people actually caring for their cardiovascular health. We the French don’t put such stock in our arteries!
The decoration; atmosphere and cider selection (try Lilley’s 6% one) is excellent. The location, too, is terribly central. I recommend this pub for a cool full or partial night out. I certainly had a good time. Except all those pesky Southerners.
