Small White Elephant Cafe

There are nearly as many coffee shops per head in London as there are pubs these days. With an abundance of choice in beans, tea, milk, food, decor and locale, there is no format of caffeine dispensary you cannot create. But, if you spent ten years mixing your moods, you probably wouldn’t hit on the same combination that makes ‘Swelephant’ what it is.

Proprietors Dale and Jehn have been running their small shop for just over a year now, and they pride themselves on running their business their way. There is immense competition on just about every tier in Peckham and the surrounding area, with new shops popping up every few months.

As Dale is quick to point out, with the availability of ingredients being what it is, there’s no excuse for getting the basics wrong. This same philosophy extends to how they do buisness too; their’s no excuse to be unfriendly, rush, or not take the time to get to know your neighbours. Unlike the more aloof coffee shops you might encounter in London, everything about the cafe is distinctly unique, and distinctly Peckham.

Given that it only occupies a small front it’s roomy without looking sparse, and even on a busy day you don’t feel too cramped. As you’d expect, the action of the room centre’s round the coffee machine. In a sea of bright oranges, green and purple, it gleams at you with all the reassurance of a machine never neglected. They serve Alchemy Coffee, at temperatures ranging from the traditional hot, through cold-brewed, and on to ‘iced’ in the warmer months. I order a flat white for myself and my girlfriend, and although busy, there’s little or no wait. When it arrives it’s hot, velvety, and not nearly as harsh as some of the other coffees I’ve had of late, providing confirmation that on Dales earlier assertions.

They know their stuff, these people are serious. It’s not been gone 5 minutes and I’m glaring at the stack of cakes and treats on the counter like a seagull at hot chips. Then there’s the rest of the food served out of the tiny kitchen in the back. Fresh sourdough toast with smashed avocado, chilli jam, and bacon from Flock and Herd (an excellent local butcher), an array of cheesy toasted sandwiches and monthly ‘pho nights’are soon to start (recipes taught to the couple by their Vietnamese landlords). My once-simple desire for caffeine was swiftly compounding.

We all have a shop that we’re happy to duck in an out of on a regular basis for our victuals, and Swelephant is one of those. However, it quickly became apparent to me that Small White Elephant is also one of those places that you can visit intending to spend half an hour in at most and maybe £3 or £4, and leave an hour later than intended, £6 lighter and without a single regret. This realisation did not dawn quick enough, and through the course of my conversation with the owners,

I managed to demolish a rich and buttery slice of millionaire shortbread without stopping to think further ahead than my next bite. For a trip that was meant to comprise of a few coffees and a chat, I left with more (and less) than I’d originally intended, and much happier for it. And a bit shakier.

Website: www.smallwhiteelephant.com/

Twitter: @swelephant_cafe

Small White Elephant

28 Choumert Road

Peckham

SE15 4SE

Instagram: @joemerick89
Twitter: @joe_emerick
www.onin.london 

Camden Gluten-Free Festival

If you had to guess which part of London was going to a host a gluten-free festival, odds are Camden would be in your top 3. The home of Cookies and Scream, Chin Chin Studios and Gilgamesh provides a fine palette for a celebration of food, free of gluten either by natural virtue or culinary ingenuity. Now in its third year, and growing with every incarnation, the festival brings together Lock Market regulars as well as some of the finest gluten free kitchens from across London. As an aspiring foodie and home cook (haven’t quite kicked the frozen pizzas), I was excited and a little apprehensive about what I might find.

In an effort to assuage these notions, I had a quick chat with Sarah Kettel, proprietor of the Louisiana Chilli Shack, and festival organiser. Any of my lingering assumptions about the ‘GFF’ (as it’s affectionately known) were quickly set right. What most people (read: me) tend to forget is that a lot of food doesn’t have gluten in it already, so going gluten-free isn’t nearly as big a stretch as people imagine. Yes, the search for a gluten free pizza base can deliver some really interesting results, but that’s no reason to be sceptical about the rest of it. After taking this onboard, I could look on the festival as it was – a game of two halves.

The first half was ‘gluten-free’ as many of us have come to understand it; ingredient replacement. And by ‘replacement’, I really mean ‘improvement’. Gemma Callander runs Feed Me Primal, a paleo-friendly, gluten free stall serving strips of grass-fed beef and chicken with caulirice – a mixture of carrot, parsnip, cauliflower, and beetroot. The name doesn’t really do it justice, as the mix is far better than rice, and compliments the tender meat and crisp salad beautifully.  Romeo’s Gluten Free Bakery was making an onion loaf that was chewy, earthy and fluffy all at the same time. Cupcakes and Shhht had (unsurprisingly) cupcakes and brownies on offer that would make you forsake even the stodgiest of soufflés. Finally, and as part of their hourly demonstrations, the Whole Food Market Kitchen were turning out spiralized sweet potato with fresh pesto that made me forget that I was eating a pasta supplement altogether.

The other half was all the food you’ve loved for years, that is gluten-free by its own virtue. Le Rac Shack (favourite name of the festival) was doling out helpings of raclette cheese and new potatoes topped with cornichon. Next door to which was a stall turning out crepes made the traditional buckwheat, overflowing with homemade fillings. Sarah’s shack was serving sweet potato, nachos, a bean and quinoa dish called beanoa (pronounced ‘been-whaa’), and red and white chilli. After enough samples to constitute a tasting menu, it was a tray of nachos with both types of chilli, sweet potato and cheese that I opted for. Whilst its colour may suggest a more conservative version of its beefy brother, white chilli is anything but. Cheesy, spicy, smoky and tangy all at once, and matched perfectly with a bright green pico de gallo dressing and rich sweet potato.

There is an argument to be had that you can get great street food anywhere in London these days. This month alone there were at least 3 other large-scale foodie events happening all over the capital, serving top-notch food, regardless of dietary requirement. However, the Gluten-Free Festival is too-good an example of food done differently to miss. Yes, you may not get a gourmet burger or try one of 60 types of craft beer, but given that the afternoon was a drenched in sunlight, buzzed with the sights and smells of Camden Market on a Saturday, and filled with delicious food, I don’t think anyone really missed the gluten.

By Joe Emerick

Connect with Joe: Twitter (@joe_emerick) and on Instagram (@joemerick89)

http://onin.london/camden-gluten-free-festival-2/

gapyear.com article

This is an article I was asked to put together for gapyear.com, as part of a drive for some authentic stories and advice. I didn’t really do either, but they printed it anyway. Nice people…

People will tell you a lot of things about winter seasons. Whilst some will frown (future employers mostly) the vast majority of those that have done a season will tell you exactly what you want to hear; Tales of all-night drinking, ‘epic pow’ (whatever that is), and more bed-hopping than a swingers convention. In actuality the truth lies somewhere in the middle, so have a read through these pointers I’ve prepared for you, and start creating your own legend.

Do your homework
After more than a few winter seasons of my own in Meribel, France, rule #1 is to do your homework. You may think this is obvious, but you’d be surprised the amount of trouble you can you get yourself into.

Know where you’re going
Picking the right resort for you can be done in about an hour. Ask yourself a few questions, and be honest with yourself. You don’t need to have a white-hot love for mountaineering, nor do you need to be the next it-girl (or boy) to have a great time, but play to your strengths. If you like the outdoors and genuinely love the sport, go somewhere with a range of parks and terrains. If you’re more of a party animal, go somewhere with good nightlife and decent transport (no one wants to make the potentially-fatal, freezing, 40 minute walk home at 5am more than once). As a rule, bigger resorts are good for your first time because (you guessed it) there are more people there. When you apply for jobs with bigger companies, they often have reviews of their destinations on their websites, so have a flick through. Otherwise, take a look at the winter jobs page here on gapyear.com.

Speak some of the native language
There’s no excuse in this day and age for not being able to speak a basic level of another language. It’ll make you more hireable, and ultimately more useful to the people you work with out there. You can get lessons, use online tools like ‘language immerse’ on Google Chrome, or just flick through an old textbook.

Shop smart
Seasons are a fashion parade, but your outerwear needs to work as good as it looks. Research brands, watch some videos, and buy the things you like, because you’re going to be wearing them for a long time. A £180 jacket might seem expensive now, but that same jacket will be closer to £300 on resort when you get shamed out of wearing a £50-job your dad picked 5 years ago. A lot of jobs will offer rental skis and boards as well, and the same rule applies here. Save up and buy your own equipment if you can. It might seem like a huge initial outlay, but the difference is immeasurable.

Pick a job you can stick with
One thing you will come to realise very quickly is that ski resorts are very small places and news flies fast. If you lose your job you may not be able to walk into another one. Yes, the money you earn on seasons is terrible, and yes, if you don’t work at one of the cool bars you’ll feel inferior, but that’s just the way it is. No one likes a quitter, and you’re not there to work anyway, whatever your try-hard manager might tell you.

Know your limits
Getting serious for a moment, it’s worth remembering that bad things can happen, even in paradise. Sometimes there’s an accident, an avalanche, people fall in with a bad crowd, get drunk and could fall asleep in the snow, or they may try something that’s beyond their ability. If you’re a lightweight, remember you are. Likewise, if you’re easily influenced, try to keep yourself in check, or hang out with people that will. About January-time an STI check takes place in most resorts. Wrap up, because the test results don’t stay secret for long. Build up to learning tricks, and if you’re straying into the back country take an avalanche kit you know how to use. Comprende?

And there we have it. A guide (I daren’t say ‘failsafe’) to get you started on what will be the time of your life. I originally set out to do one season and then go on to university. I did, then finished my course and did four more. Whether you’re planning a year out, a sabbatical, or want to get into the winter industry for the long run, just make sure you’re having fun. And call everyone ‘man’, we love that.

Santé

180 Degrees South – A Woodshed Film

Carrying on the Earth Day theme from yesterday, I’ve posted the trailer to what I think is one of the most socially and environmentally aware films I’ve ever seen. 180 Degrees South charts one man’s journey from California down to Patagonia to climb Corcovaddo (Hunchback), and surf some Southern Pacific waves.
This journey was originally undertaken by Yvonne Chouinard and Doug Thompkins, two men that would go on to great things in the Outdoor world, with Chouinard eventually founding Patagonia (the clothes brand).
If you’ve yet to see it, find a copy (pay for it) and give yourself a bit of time to watch it. It’s one of the few films on the subject that I’ve seen that doesn’t ram a message down your throat, but rather gives you an example of what we stand to loose if we keep going the way we are.

Earth Day Talking-To

Earth Day talking-too

TED (if you’ve yet to use it) is full of good stuff. Talks from all over the world that are meant to teach you something. Some are preachy, some are a little hard to believe, but all of them are worth watching.

As yesterday was Earth Day, I’ve put up one of my favourites; John Gerzema on the Post-Crisis Consumer.

Enjoy!

(and don’t litter).

Slash Snowboards – A thing to want…

Slash Snowboards

Snowboarding is full of things to covet, we all know this. Every year companies go out of their way to make their kit look irresistible, and we all often cave.

However, I have never know lust quite like what I felt when I first heard Gigi Ruf was making snowboards three years ago. They’re called ‘Slash’, and they look fucking WILD.

Made in the GST factory in Austria (where Rome, Jones, Niché, YES and Niedecker do their manufacturing) they came to life after Ruf split with previous board sponsors Volcom (‘top sheet deal’, he was part of the UNINC crew before that). Just have a hunt through the website and see for yourself. The powder model ‘the Straight’ was his stick of choice for the Redbull Ultra-Natural in 2012/13, which he won.
Start rubbing your hands, and maybe one will appear…

Al Murphy at No.31 – Article for Urban Graphic Shop

Al Murphy at No.31, Bristol

     It’s very easy to buttonhole shops, especially gift shops. They have them in the museums that we were dragged to as children (and subsequently denied any of their wares), or everything they sell has a union jack emblazoned on it. Their one uniting factor is that they sell NOTHING you would want.

No. 31 in Bristol is different. Not just in that it sells really nice things (honest), or that it’s got the full weight of the Urban Graphic Publishers behind them, but that from the 1^st of May they’ll be displaying things no amount of money will get you[1], among all the lovely coffee cups and LSTN headphones.

No.31’s website describes the store as a ‘carefully curated’ gift shop, a ‘c’ word that should hint at the unnatural degree of care the staff have taken to make its range appeal. Even its website looks like one of its lovely Pantone coffee cups. One thing the arrangements at No.31 teach us is that it’s very easy to want things that no one else may have ever seen before. As a person setting up home at the moment, I hadn’t even considered coasters, and now I have a raft of them to choose from. Do I have funny, or do I have quietly profound? Who knows? Before we blithely stroll down this consumer rabbit-hole any further, I think it’s best we discuss the matter at hand, Al Murphy.

Based in a New York studio (but actually born in North Yorkshire, like all good people), Al draws what can best be described as ‘artistic records of the gentle hallucinations we experience every day’ (or at least I do). It’d be easy to relegate Murphy’s work to the world of coffee table whimsy (Bunny Suicides anyone?), but if you think about them for more than 5 seconds, you find that the drawings reach out to a part of you you’ve always known was there, and may have lost touch with in the sea of work-emails and cash ISAs that we all now float in.

Before you reach for the arsenic, have a look at these:

Hurtful, but in a funny way…

Good times…

Obviously, we all talk to our ‘things’[2]. Be it shouting for our keys or thanking our car for starting, we attach pathetic fallacy to the things around us on a day-to-day basis because it’s a good way of expressing ourselves. Al Murphy’s drawings reach out to that fun, open, sometimes-vindictive part of our brain that can make or break how we treat actual humans. We know we can’t (or at least shouldn’t) shout at people for driving slowly, or make fun of people for having funny glasses, or talk to our beer in a crowded pub, but we just can’t help but seeing the humour in situations that would (should we put it in words) translates as us being just plain rude. This alone is a good reason to go down to No.31’s exhibition, and just have a chuckle at jokes you’ve made in your own head a million times before.

Still too twee I hear you cry? Not edgy enough for you pipe-smoking, coffee-loving twenty somethings that just want to listen to vinyl? Murphy’s been commissioned by the likes of The Guardian, Marmite, McDonalds and the Glastonbury Festival to produce artwork to run with campaigns. He’s by no means a stranger to the world of bigger ideas, as his more political renderings denote:

No caption can complete…

I’d trust this drug…

You might not have poked fun at fast-food employees, or put all your trust in a bottle of beer, but chances are you’ll see a picture that makes you laugh more than just as a reaction to the idea of a rabbit reading Watership Down.

I’m not saying that coming down to No.31’s exhibition will make you a nicer, cooler, more emotionally aware person[3], but it can’t hurt. You might even come out and buy someone (read: yourself) a nice little present. And you should. Because that will make you nicer.

Joe

Here’s all you need to know:

2-31^th of May @ No.31 Baldwin Street, Bristol.

(If you feel the need to be special, try and get invited to the private viewing on the 1^st.)

     You can see more work by Al on this website at:

www.al-murphy.com

     You can buy all the nice things from the shop without getting up here:

http://urbangraphicshop.co.uk

     You can even read a bit more about Urban Graphic Shop here:

http://urbangraphic.co.uk/no31-the-urban-graphic-shop

Like them all, and follow them all, but like a decent person. Not in a raincoat in the dead of night.

[1] Figuratively speaking, you can buy whatever you want.

[2] Things being a general term for inanimate objects.

[3] I am.

Bad day? Could be worse…

I love his chat with the paramedics at the end, who’re doing their best to keep the laughter in…

Finest Hour x Bring Your Sisters Write-up

Finest Hour Clothing x Bring Your Sisters après, February 26^th 2014.

     It’s fair to say that après in the French Alps is known for near-bacchanalian levels of indecency. Dancing on tables and leaving footprints on the roof is commonplace, bottles of jagermeister and toffee vodka orbit the room like little planets of potential hangover, and ‘indecent exposure’ shakes free its legal auspices and gets given back to the people. In the town of Meribel, there is one afternoon, one band, and one bar that combine to create après in its very essence – and Clem and the Finest Hour crew decided to bring their wears down to see how it all happened. Let’s walk through it.

The clientele for a Wednesday afternoon in Meribel is 50/50 split between seasonnaires and holiday makers, with the former being on their night off, and the latter looking to fill the void that their hosts don’t have to. In most situations, you wouldn’t expect the hosts to willingly share space with their guests, but that is one of the magical things about après: everyone is just a bit too drunk to care.

Jack’s Bar plays host to this rolling horde from 4-6 in the afternoon. It’s one of those bars that really likes people. The alps are littered with places that use the term ‘discerning’ to mean anything from ‘only the cool’ to ‘only the Russians’, and it’s this astronomical ability to socialise that makes it one of the best bars in town.                                                                                                                                  The other half of the après super-coin is filled by the alpine musical superheroes ‘Bring Your Sisters’, who play a two hour set that ranges from Dropkick Murphys to Faithless and then back to Fleetwood Mac, all with their own ‘drums and keyboard’ twist. Amid chants of ‘naked bar’, and calls to crowd-surf the bar staff to the front of the stage, BYS manage to hold the attention of everyone in the room, making the place feel like a much bigger venue and turning what is essentially ‘drinking to music’ into a sub-sonic event that can really make a person’s week.

Finest Hour, therefore, were accepted with open arms. As retired seasonnaires themselves, there was no need for explanation or re-education. They came armed with free neck warmers, and were selling 5-panel hats and hoodies designed with 70’s ski-gear in mind. If anything, they took a lot of the seriousness out of the usual label-parade that makes Meribel’s various tribes look like the gangs from ‘The Warriors’. The truth with about a lot of season-inspired clothing lines is that they focus on the stupid and gratuitous and miss the more important aspects like ‘fun’ and ‘snow’. Not so with Finest Hour; as the name implies, your finest hour could be on the hill, in the park, out in the back country, or in the bar.

     As events go, the Bring Your Sisters après at Jacks Bar is a difficult one to communicate because you can come to one any Wednesday between December and April and have an experience unique to you. It ticks all the standard boxes for a good après; loud music, cheap(er) drinks, heaving mass of people, topless seasonnaires posing for selfies, and no-one trying to stop you having fun. It’s not often that a bar that can barely fit 150 people in has to have 3 doormen on and 5 people behind the bar serving drinks non-stop.                                                                                                                       Wednesday is a real battleground between the town’s bars, each vying for a share of the custom, and the staff at Jack’s have managed to create an environment akin to a zoo, but if you were one of the animals. No, it’s not your natural habitat, but they’ll feed, water and entertain you, and all you have to put up with are a few funny looks. But why do you care? You’ve got your top off and someone just passed you a jagerbomb. Enjoy this week’s finest hour.

Joe

http://www.finesthourclothing.com

www.facebook.com/bringyoursisters.bys 

BamBooBay.co.uk Article

Meribel – Getting Out There

There are lots of ways a winter season can go for people. You could spend the whole time partying, the whole time riding, or a bit of both. The snow could be great, or it could be shit, or a bit of both. Whichever resort you find yourself in, and wherever you stand on the ‘party vs. ride’ argument, the one overriding rule where seasons are concerned is that you only get back what you put in.
Meribel is a fine example of a resort that has a bit of everything. At its core, it’s a town in France founded by a British former general, about an hour up the (rather treacherous) road from Albertville, the site of the 1992 Winter Olympics. Whilst the region of Savoie is undoubtedly French, Meribel herself has retained a lot of British traits, and due to the overseas property market and the influx of winter workers from our tiny isle that doesn’t look to change. Weep or rejoice, that’s just the way the town has grown (cheer up, it could be Russian).
But it’s not all bad news; often cited as having one of the best seasonnaire communities in the Alps, it’s a place where those that wish to ride can happily co-exist with those whose penchant is for a different type of powder.
Daytime activities can be found in some of our great off-piste spots (weather an snow-pack permitting), two snow parks, and 700km of piste that make us (as the heart of the 3 Valleys area) the biggest skiable area in the world. For your night-time needs, we’ve got a (piss-poor) nightclub, a few bars, après spots and restaurants. If you had boundless energy, loads of money, patient friends, near-endless libido and a knack for learning, you could fill every hour of every day of these sacred five months with activities that would make the rest of the world weep with jealousy.

There is a more spiritual side to Meribel as well, even if the vast majority of the town indulge purely the hedonistic elements of their souls. There are the odd few teetotallers that spend every minute of daylight up in the mountains, or buried in workshops detailing, tweaking and fine-tuning their snow-borne craft, and that commitment eventually rubs off on the rest of us. The odd change here and there can make or break your day, with a foot and inch or so out of place ruining what might have been a life-affirming experience.
At the end of the day, the mountains are unlike anywhere else in the world, and the vast majority of those that come here have never spent any serious time living and working at altitude, so after an initial burst of excitement, the quiet and the exposure and the terrain begin to become a part of you. I like to think we all have an inner flower child, and it’s often most-revealed out here in the hills. Bamboo Bay fits in here quite nicely. There’s nothing obnoxious, gaudy or aggressive about what they do, just decent threads that don’t destroy what you came here to enjoy. There are a million and one home-grown clothing labels out here, that try and capture the snotty, posh, ‘off your face, on the hill’ vibe that the world at large has come to associate with seasonnaires (not unduly, I might add). For once its quite nice to have people out here that have put time in to making clothes, not just the shitty slogans that sit on them.
So, reader (and I hope soon-to-be visitor to Meribel) buy a tee-shirt. Or don’t buy a tee-shirt. Go on a three-week bender. Or don’t. You may not even come here. But if you do, do not come here expecting all I said to just happen. Whether you want to wake up to booming of avalanche cannons or the pounding of jagermeister in your own head, you only get out what you put in, so start getting out there.