Paul

Mezzanine Level, National Maritime Museum

Last week I promised Pram-o-philes somewhere where you can easily manoeuvre a pushchair, meet up with other parents and spread out, knowing your little bundle of joy is absolutely safe. And here it is. Despite its being on the first floor, Paul at the NMM is a parent's paradise.

The mezzanine is a wide, virtually empty area that for some time has puzzled me as to its purpose, its exhibit-to-available-space ratio being - well - sparse.

But whatever the failure to put much to actually look at in this part of the museum, this area provides a perfect spread-out space for your entire post-natal group to ascend the great glass elevator and meet, whatever the weather, in a bright, dry environment with halfway decent coffee, slightly overpriced sweet-treats and no sharp edges.

Service on the day I went was, frankly, hap-hazard, probably a combination of busy-ness and, perhaps, a bit of a language issue. I had a cup of coffee, which they got right second time around, and a half-warmed-through quiche which tasted perfectly fine if a little undecided as to whether or not it should have been reheated. Although this is Paul, and therefore never generally a bad option, the very fact that the chain seems to be becoming as ubiquitous as Starbucks has seen service slip since the cafe's finding its way to our shores.

I was the sole lone-customer on the day I went. There was one other group - some bemused French tourists - but everyone else seemed to be part of one of several baby/toddler get-togethers. I wondered whether by the end of the day, they would have formed one huge posse, but I confess that it was all a little bit much for me (besides - staying would have run the risk of my looking like some dodgy pervert hanging round. It's the cloak and mask that does it...) - I finished my coffee and left the small people to explore the further reaches of Fluffy Rug Land.

So - not one for pram-o-phobes (especially since the glass roof's acoustics are perfect scream-o-conductors...) But if you have lots of pushchair pals, a wriggly two year-old and the desire for not-bad-coffee, this is a fine destination.

Red Door Gallery/ Cafe

Turnpin Lane has seen a lot of change, probably all its (very long) life. Shops come and go; some never seem to open at all (those grubby buildings behind Joy, for example.) It's a curious mixture of scruffy and quaint, downmarket and decidedly upmarket. Two of the cutest shops in the row were Daisy Cakes Bake Shop and Red Door Gallery. It's been all-change down Turnpin Lane again. Some of it is good.

I was gutted that Daisy Cakes very cute shop has closed. I know she's gone online and that you can buy her fabbo cupcakes at three places - Bar du Musee, Biscuit and Red Door, but I used to love nipping in to buy a cake or two for later scoffage at home; I can't do that any more.

I will try out the decidedly average-looking cafe that's opened in its stead at some point (is it just me, or wasn't Greenwich Council refusing any more cafes in Central Greenwich? I thought that was why the Organic Cafe guys around the corner got kicked out...) but at the moment I'm too depressed.

Instead I went next door. I've always rather liked Red Door Gallery - an independent little craft gallery/emporium, full of glass cabinets with curious jewellery/pottery/homewares/accessories, but I felt the (tiny) back room was a bit underused.

It's still mainly a gallery/shop but the owners have decided that it was underused, too, and have turned it into what has to be one of the smallest coffee shops (I know - yet another one) in Greenwich.

Take your pew - or cinema seat - or plush tart's-boudoir sofa, and perch around a bunch of completely mis-matched coffee tables made out of all kinds of wrong things (they're even at different heights to each other) for a coffee - and yes - one of Daisy Cake's cupcakes.

It's cosy and quirky, and if the music is a tiny tad too loud it's in excellent taste. The lighting's muted by sticking a couple of sheets of pink paper over bare bulbs and it's all a bit make-do-and-mend - which is absolutely perfect for the venue.

The coffee's not bad either. Not Beehive quality (oh, how I'm missing that place...) but still perfectly enjoyable. They even have a slightly ramshackle "Bring One, Swap One" bookshelf with a surprisingly good selection of books people have brought to swap - on the day I was there, Clive Aslet's superb The Story of Greenwich was up for grabs...

Downsides - it IS tiny - and the way the seats are laid out, it's somehow not very private - don't go there for an intimate discussion with your best mate about that embarrassing medical problem, eh...

Also - and, to be honest, some may not see this as a downside; it depends on where you stand on the whole pushchair issue ;-) - the entrance is narrow, and the cafe-area down steps, making access difficult. This is partially remedied by a couple of chairs and tables outside if you just have to have that Daisy Cup Cake fix, but Turnpin Lane itself is not wide, so there's still not much pram-room.

So ideal for pram-o-phobes, but worry not, mums and dads. I have found a good alternative for pushchairs that I will post about another day.

Saigon

16, Nelson Road, SE10, 020 8858 8288

I've not been doing much restaurant reviewing recently. A combination of Really Busy and credit crunch have meant sticking with old favourites rather than venturing out anew.

Which is probably very silly. A few places that I once raved about have been slowly sliding - or have had new ownership that has traded on the name whilst dropping standards.

So, after a frankly dull curry from what used to be Caffe Massala (a strange combination of sugary and un-spicy) and a non-curry from Raan (now a Greenwich Inc joint selling the same sort of bland stuff it sells everywhere else), I decided it was time to get back on the trail of new places to eat.

I was tipped-off about the newly spruced-up Saigon by Luke, who told me that despite its unpromising appearance (it has that same half-baked 'almost-trendy' look that most of Greenwich's cheap eateries have) the food was good.

It's true. The place isn't going to win any prizes for pretty. It's been simply kitted-out - plain walls, red plush 'banqueting' chairs, dark melamine tables with condiments very obviously from See Woo's catering section and a rather odd grey brick wall at the back of the surprisingly-spacious back room. The whole thing's brightened with the usual gang of gaudy porcelain characters from all-purpose Far Eastern mythology. The lighting's somewhere between intimate and canteen.

But I warmed to this place as soon as I stepped inside. It was clean and fresh, it had proper diners in (which is not a given any more in these cash-strapped times) and I was welcomed by a friendly, articulate host.

The prices are almost suspiciously low. £4.30, to be precise. For all main dishes. So whether you're going for a Beef Flank, Roast Duck or a simple Wan Tan Soup - all you'll pay is £4.30. And this is eat-in price, along Nelson Road, one of the priciest bits of real estate in Greenwich. Side orders are a whopping £3.30.

I had a quick look around the other diners to see what they were getting for their cash - and it looked - well - pretty good really. Big platefuls, and accompanying big smiles.

I didn't dare try the halibut - I'm sure it's fine but I've seen the prices in the Fishmonger for fresh stuff and it bothered me that this was so cheap in comparison. So I settled for a King Prawn Chow Mein. The Phantom Companion Du Jour chose the all-in Vietnamese Fried Rice.

Now. I'm not going to claim this as a gourmet spectacular. But just across the road, at Noodle Time, I was once unable to finish one of the worst meals of my life, and round the corner at Tai Won Mein I virtually couldn't start the hideous mess I was served up after a very long wait and indifferent service. And both cost more than this, despite being classed as bargain-basement cheap-fills.

Our food arrived swiftly, was served pleasantly and appeared to have been made from decent-quality ingredients. My Chow Mein was well-flavoured and, if a little oily, I couldn't complain about the number of good-sized, succulent prawns in it. The Phantom Companion's fried rice came with lots of different meaty bits and bobs - and, although I noticed some experimentation with chilli dip and soy sauce, it was declared tasty and the plate was cleared.

If we'd stuck to soft drinks, our entire meal would have cost us exactly eleven quid. As it was, some Vietnamese beer 'accidentally' got ordered and pushed our total to a dizzying £12.60.

This is not the place to take someone for a 25th wedding anniversary meal - unless you don't want to see your 26th. But as a cheapo place to fill up for under a fiver, (and I mean fill up - I felt rather uncomfortable after I'd stuffed away mine) I heartily recommend this over pretty much any similar joint in Greenwich. Certainly the aforementioned Noodle Time and Tai Won Mein, which vie for the dubious honour of 'worst restaurant in Greenwich' in my book (now that the execrable Alamo has rightly gone the way of all undercooked flesh.)

Saigon is fresh, bright and clean (even the loos are spotless,) the service is swift and charming - and it won't break the bank. If I was into cliche, this is the point where I'd say "what's not to like?" But I'm not, so I'll just say 'run it up the flagpole, suck it and see. It's a no-brainer...'

Sad Beehive News

Rebecca has just confirmed JohnSE's note that Beehive will be closing at the end of the month. Apparently it just wasn't really worth it to just serve coffee - and I guess there was no room to serve anything else.

There's a small silver lining to the cloud this brings to anyone who's ever enjoyed a cup of the best coffee in Greenwich. They will continue to sell their coffee at the Nevada Street Deli - and, I understand, will honour the loyalty card system too.

It's good-ish, I guess, but I liked having them both. I had always cherished dreams of Beehive moving into that shrine to 60s Mod culture, the Coffee Cellar in Turnpin Lane, (which always used to be the best coffee in Greenwich until it died last year...)

Maybe when things calm down financially....

Nevada Street Deli

This one has really crept up on me.

I confess I was a bit ho-hum about the whole thing when this place first arrived. Another 'deli,' another cafe. And I was still smarting at the demise of the old junk shop which I used to love. To be honest I didn't bother going in at all.

But after a sudden caffeine craving whilst walking in the park when I just rushed to the first place that would sell me a coffee, in the past few weeks I've found myself going in more and more. The first time was, of course, just that sad dash for coffee - but the service was so very friendly and the coffee really not bad (not quite up to Beehive standards, but still good) that I found myself going in more often.

It's fresh and clean-looking, with cream walls and scrubbed wooden tables. There's a good selection of chilled deli stuff (at first I thought it was one of those 'delis' that are really just cafes and hardly have any goods in them, but it's deceptive) meats and pies (with really good pastry) salads and pates. They sell bread by the loaf, half-loaf or quarter (though you'd get a lot of crust if you just bought a quarter) and there are a few token dry goods - not a great selection, but I'd guess they're short of space.

I've eaten in there several times now. The food is always really tasty, there's lots of it and it's served with a friendliness that's very becoming. And there are always lots of newspapers around so I have something to read.

The website's not much cop, but at least has contact details (if not opening hours.) The Phantom is happy to eat Humble Pie in this instance and say that this place is rapidly becoming a Favourite Haunt.

Rhodes Prices

Margaret says:

"Was shocked and taken aback to find the new Coffee/bread shop, Rhodes, in Greenwich town centre charging an extra 70p to put a slither of butter - which was actually soft margarine - on my 80p scone. On complaining about this,assistant said couldn't do anything about it, down to the owner!! Told them not a very clever thing to do,especially local residents!! Has anyone else had any bad experiences there??"

The Phantom replies:

I think they're still playing with their prices. When I went in there in the first couple of days, I had a pleasant chat with the American guy who seems to be in charge of the actual shop, and he asked me what I thought of the 'then' prices, saying that they didn't really know what to charge - I guess because there isn't a comparable outlet in the area - an actual shop rather than a stall, artisanal baked goods and a small sit-down area, though I was mildly surprised they hadn't visited other similar places in the capital to check out their prices, which, I'm guessing they have done now.

The thing is, is that this IS a tourist area, and the CAN get that sort of money for a scone and butter (are you sure it was marg?) when people are expecting to pay for a day out. I also suspect that the shop is not a cheap place to rent and the good old fashioned 'overheads' are kicking in. It's probably not just representing the price of the spread, but also the fact that you'll be sitting down' to consume it. I'm not sure if there are different tax prices if a scone stops being a 'raw material' and becomes in the government's eyes 'a sit down meal.' Maybe someone can enlighten me?

BUT. In the winter months especially, when the tourists aren't forthcoming and they rely on us locals, especially with the looming recession, 70p for a scrape of butter does seem a bit excessive, even if you're paying realistic wages to your staff (you are paying realistic wages to your staff, guys, now, aren't you..?)

Here's a thought, Rhodes guys. Why not do a residents' discount - I don't know - free butter on your bun or something - easy enough created by talking to the GreenwichCard department at the Council. Giving us locals a discount will create a hell of a lot more goodwill than it will cost you in butter, and it will keep us coming through thick and thin.

Or maybe a loyalty card? I have about four of them for Beehive, as I keep forgetting to bring them with me, but I'm determined that one day I'll bring them all together and get myself a free flat white.

I still love Rhodes. I'm not quite so fond of their brownies as their other stuff - mine was really rather dry and sugary but those raspberry custard tarts, the giant meringues and, yes - those scones - are fab. IMHO it's a massive contribution to Greenwich Town centre, and not just because it's a proper bakery where we only had Greggs before. It sends out a signal to other high quality shops that don't exclusively pander to the tourist trade that Greenwich is ready for nice food, friendly service and attractive surroundings. I'm a regular, so I'd most definitely appreciate a loyalty card system/Greenwichcard Discount/ both.

So what do you think? Is Rhodes losing it's shine, or do we need to be a little indulgent of a new, high quality business?

Fat Boy's Diner

Continuing in my not-really-in-Greenwich-but well-worth-a try series, Fat Boy's Diner could actually be in the American Mid-West, the amount of trouble it takes to get to, despite the fact that it's only a couple of hundred metres from The O2 as the crow flies. As the Phantom trudges, it's a good three-quarters of an hour, but the kitsch-value alone makes the trip worthwhile.

There's no information about the history of how this 1940s American diner, complete with aluminium cladding, Formica tables, slightly ageing red vinyl bench seats and twirly bar stools at the counter actually made it over to Blighty, but you know, I'm sure I remember it around Liverpool Street in the late 1980s (Am I mistaken? Or was that a different Fat Boy's Diner? Maybe they're all over the place - two-a-penny - and I just haven't noticed them...)

Maybe it got too pricey to keep a what is essentially a posh caravan selling burgers in the City, but it's found its spiritual home now, nestled among dead lighthouses, weird installations and container studios of Trinity Buoy Wharf, beloved by the artists who live there and their visitors alike.

How to describe it? Well - just think of practically any Hollywood movie that has pretensions to nostalgia and you've got it. Plastic sauce bottles (sadly not in the shape of tomatoes or hot dogs but you can't have everything) Venetian blinds that make me think of that sinister scene in Goodfellas where Robert de Niro meets Ray Liotta 'with intent' (yeah, yeah, that wasn't a trailer, but it was still damn creepy) black and white tiles and tabletop juke boxes. I once found a job lot of over 70 of those babies for just under thirty quid each, but I couldn't even lift one of them, let alone get it in my suitcase, chiz.

Outside, they've plonked a few tables and some Yuccas. I don't recommend them just at the moment, but they're lovely in summer.

I'd say, to be absolutely honest, that the setting and the fabulous, fabulous decor are the real reasons to make a pilgrimage to this place. The food is predictable - burgers, hot dogs, fries (not chips, obviously) with shakes and Cokes, followed by pies and sundaes. And so it should be - it would be just wrong to eat anything else in such a venue. As it goes, it's well-cooked and cheerfully served. But don't expect anything more than that. It's fun food, not gourmet, like most caffs, really.

The joy is in just being able to sit in a backwater in East London and pretend you're in The Last Picture Show or Back to the Future or American Graffiti (even if their diners aren't caravans either) Or maybe one of those really terrifying Films Noirs that aren't set in the night or the city, but which usually involve deranged hitchhikers and escaped criminals kidnapping travelling salesmen in the scorching desert sun. Or maybe Sliding Doors, which was apparently actually filmed there, not that I remember anything about that movie save that the film makers clearly thought it was possible for John Hannah to run from the Albert Bridge to the City, via what looked suspiciously like Battersea, in ten minutes, and that no one would notice that the Waterloo-City Line doesn't go to Upminster...

OK, so here's the snag. Getting there. Normally, you're going to have to either drive round via the Blackwall Tunnel or get a DLR to East India Dock from which it takes about 15 minutes to walk.

Every once in a while, on high days and holidays, Thames Clippers take pity on us and run a free shuttle boat from the 02 to Trinity Buoy Wharf. Keep an eye out for such events here and take advantage of them, because it will mean that everything else is open as well - artists' studios, installations, etc. And the first weekend of every month, the very-odd-indeed tinging and bonging sound installation Longplayer by Jem Finer gives you the excuse to get inside the historic lighthouse. But that's for another day...

Deptford Project

I've been wanting to visit the Deptford Project train carriage cafe for ages, but I'd been a bit worried that Time Out raving about it would mean it was choc-a-bloc and it would be hard to get in. Still, sometimes you just have to join the crowd and eventually I could resist no longer.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Deptford is so trendy these days - but it does surprise me every time. There's a vibe there that was once of the variety that could only be smelt in Hoxton and Shoreditch, (and, a very long time ago, in Covent Garden and the South Bank) but now - now, it would seem that South East London's getting its turn. You can read all about it in the splendid Deptford Dame though I confess I deliberately didn't read her review before I trotted along to the the caff, so I that could get my own impressions.

Often when people like Time Out rave about somewhere, by the time I get to it, it's gone downhill, but if this is true about Deptford Project it must have been wondrous indeed. I have rarely visited a cafe where the whole experience was as fun as this.

I'm glad I wasn't behind the convoy that brought the 35 tonne carriage to its final resting place on Deptford High Street - it apparently did 2 miles per hour all the way down from Essex - though if you'd like to enjoy the trip for yourself you can see a video of it on their website.

But with a lick of white paint and some colourful decor, it's now bright and shiny, with a raised palm-fringed decking area outside (complete with stripy deckchairs if you're brave) and a simple long-line trestle inside, stools painted with sweet messages and lamps that look like they're made from neon licorice bootlaces.

The people who run the caff are far too young to remember the 80s in any great detail - but it really does feel inspired by that era to me. They even play 70s and 80s reggae / pop classics - I can't think of anything more suitable.

The food, too, has an 'alternative 80s' feel to me - fresh, chunky salads that remind me of the old Cranks days, and giant cakes which actually taste as good as they look (I'm often disappointed by cakes in cafes - they look great but taste like cardboard. These are fab.) The sandwiches are of the doorstep variety and the hot food simple and filling. Absolutely no complaints there.

But what I liked best was the atmosphere. Somewhere like this could be horribly arch - and exclusive - catering for the Goldsmiths crowd and people in pointy shoes and vintage jackets, making anyone else feel a bit out of place. But there's nothing hipper-than-thou about the welcome that we - and everyone else who came in while I was there - received. Wide smiles, solicitous service and general cheeriness from people I'm happy to believe actually want to be there.

Don't miss the Elvis loo. A converted garden shed, wallpapered with black and white shots of The King, fetish shoes and people dressed up as the man himself, studded with unlikely conspiracy-theory newspaper cuttings and highlit with The Elvis Mirror.

Yes, you, too, can be Elvis, just for a second, if you shut one eye, and stare into the mirror. If you're visiting the loo with a friend and you have a camera (and let's face it, if you're in there with a friend, it's entirely possibly you've taken a camera with you...) said pal can take a photo of you and send it to an online gallery. Sadly I was in there alone.

This place lives up to its hype. I thoroughly recommend it and will be back as soon as I can. Oh - and it's worth taking the wheelchair ramp route to the place, and keeping your eyes open. As with so many places trendifiying at a rate of knots, there's art everywhere...

Oxleas Wood Cafe

Oxleas Wood Cafe describes itself as "The Best Kept Secret" and it's certainly tucked away somewhat, up Shooters Hill and down a little side street, but if it is a secret, I'd say it's very poorly kept.

Even on a Monday lunchtime, it's bustling and busy, with a steady flow of customers, many of them clearly regulars, returning for the kind of caff food that is just right for a setting in the middle of a forest. Dog walkers, elderly people, local builders and, I suspect, a fair few hospital workers escaping QEH for a few precious minutes.

It was refurbished last year, and it is really good to see what is essentially a park cafe kept neat and tidy, free from graffiti and urinating youths, still used for what it was built for. I'm particularly taken with the fridge housing the cold drinks and ice creams, covered in Smarties sticky-backed plastic. A Blue Peter triumph.

There's nothing fancy about this place - but what there is is neat and clean - pine tables and chairs, white paint and sundry film posters. A noticeboard advertising local events (anyone for a six-piece female-fronted band? No indication of style or genre, but guaranteed girls...)

The food matches the place. Good, honest greasy-spoon stuff - the blackboard advertises every variety of fry-up breakfast - available all day, as far as I can tell - plus hearty pies, lasagnes and ploughman's lunches. Oh - and the odd special.

Don't expect gourmet cookery. But who wants delicate towers of batons, swirls of coulis or tiny jugs of jus when they've just been for a brisk walk in the fresh autumn air? I, for one, want a big pile of hot stodge, a big bowl of soup or a big plate of egg, chips and beans, washed down with a mug of orange tea.

It's well-priced, bright and fresh - and a joy to visit in between showers just now. In fact it will also be good when the leaves, still just about green and swollen with all the rain we've had this summer, turn and fall, the walks become crisper and your breath precedes you in little clouds of steam. The added bonus there, of course, is that the view will be even more breathtaking, glimpsed through bare branches and the odd holly tree.

If you go to Oxleas in the next little while, don't miss this charming den that's clearly been built by enterprising local kids.

They have a website (the cafe, of course, not the kids...) but it doesn't mention the opening hours, so here they are:

They open every day between 8.00am and about 4.30-5.00pm. Bear in mind, though, that although they're open at 8.00am, they don't start cooking until about 8.30.

Rhodes Bakery

Not as in Gary - or, even less comfortably, Cecil, Rhodes Bakery is the answer to quite a few Greenwich prayers - an artisan bakery. We (well, ok, I) have been whinging for one for ages - we have butchers, greengrocers, fishmongers - and several delis (I'm very much looking forward to testing out the cafe at the back of the newly-refurbed Salumeria) but have suffered a paucity of bakers. And no. In no way does Greggs EVER count...

I was highly excited to find out that Rhodes, which has been tucked away behind the power station for yonks and supplying restaurants and bakers in town, but, unless there was some secret back-door system I never knew about, didn't sell locally. Now I notice there's a sign outside the bakery itself and the swanky shop in College Approach is well and truly open.

It's an awkward corner. Traffic whizzes past just that little bit too closely and there's no real outside space - but on the other hand it's clearly on view to all coming from the pier, the Cutty Sark and the ORNC. I love the natty canopies - they brighten that once-dead corner up before you even see the shop. I think - and hope it will do well. Let's face it - from students, if nothing else. All sudents eat buns. It's a fact.

Inside Rhodes is bright and modern, but with just enough cosy tradition to draw-in a greedy Phantom. A tower of muffins on a glass cake plate. Shelves of fancy breads, piles of scones and cakes, clouds of fluffy meringues in pink and white. Inside, there's a big glass-fronted counter with larger cakes and flans, tartes and tortes. Shelves with jams and pickles, specialty teas and coffees (a big thumbs-up for Union Coffee Roasters coffee) and a big barrel of oil where you can fill your own bottle.

But what flew out at me most was the guy behind the counter (not literally - that would have been creepy...) His welcome was as fresh as the cream on the scones, and his enthusiasm belied the fact that I was there about 6.30pm and he'd been up since 4.30am. The place is open a punishing 7.00am-7.00pm and, for the moment at least, he's there for all of it.

I haven't tested everything there yet. Aw - c'mon - it's only been open a couple of weeks. But what I have had has been extremely yummy. It has a few stools and a counter to sit at and stare out at the wheel, the ORNC and the traffic, and wonder just what those funky lamps are made of (I'm betting old salad-cream bottles) but I'd say this isn't really a place to count on having a coffee and a bun every time. It's just too small. There's nowhere for them to spill out onto the pavement, and the stools - though perfectly adequate - are not for a reflective cuppa.

No, this is a place to buy lovely bread, gorgeous cakes and splendid buns. I haven't noticed much 'everyday' bread - but given that I've never passed the place before midday (yeah, yeah, I'm a lazy old Phantom) it could be just that they've sold out by the time I'm up and about...

The guy told me they've been agonising over the prices - they want to make their goods special without frightening ordinary shoppers off. I'd be interested to hear your opinions. Personally I think £1.50 for an eat-in scone with clotted cream and jam is pretty damn good...

A word about the illustration for this piece. It's by local artist and illustrator, Sarah McIntyre, who has a fabulous drawn blog here. There's currently a long-running series based on the airship, but she often does Greenwich-y stuff. She also has a website that's well worth a visit.I hope to feature more of her work here from time to time - she really makes me smile...

Los Dawsons

Paris, early 1990s. Virtually every little bar you go in has its own little resident musical thing going on - a trio - a soloist - a duo - a whole band. This isn't 'an event' as such; it's just part of the provided atmosphere. Music because it's fun to make and fun to listen to.

Back in London, it's not that hard to find live music either. It's more formal and there seem to be more health and safety hoops to jump through - but it's there. Hell - even Greenwich has a thriving little jazz scene, where the Trafalgar Tavern jumps and little bars, lost to us now, follow.

Sadly, those bars in Paris got tidied up in the mid-late 90s by an incoming regime determined to crack down on - well, fun, as far as I can see. Even the Folies closed. Back in England though, I'm not really sure what happened. We just seemed to lose the knack of going out for a quiet drink or a meal and have a little live entertainment that wasn't some drunk individual screaming into a karaoke mic. And in Greenwich the lid was finally closed on live music as a general thing when Greenwich Inc started taking over the town.

We still have a couple of pockets of brave, live music, but we can't look to the major venues like The Trafalgar any more. We have to go underground. Sometimes literally. Olivier, down at Olivers, for example.


At ground level, The Lord Hood, for those who like trad, and Peter de Wits for mainstream stuff still just about battle on (though PdW, slightly worryingly, always seems to be shut these days whenever I try to visit.. .) One-offs on an occasional basis at other places. None of these gaffs is huge, just run by individuals who are passionate about live music. They can't make much money, but they believe in it. And I applaud them for their courage and tenacity.

Happily, it's not just in Greenwich town centre that these tiny venues tough it out to bring us live music. Cattleya (Chu and Cho) in Charlton Church Street, another place that could easily have used the "we're too small" excuse hosts Los Dawsons every other Sunday night. It's taken me a long time to make it down to see them. Sorry, guys.

It is what I call 'Hangover music.' Blues, pop covers and good old fashioned rock & roll, played simply and, largely, acoustically by two guitars and a double bass. Three guys crammed in behind a wall of music books, hats and coats, and a fixed circular table that is in just the wrong place. The audience is crammed the other side. The little bar table that runs around the wall has been flapped-down on hinges to make room for (not many) more punters; the tables squashed together to get as many bums on seats in as possible. The place is full. Business is brisk. Meals are served. Drinks are brought out.

The guys themselves are clearly on their day off. To say they're not dressed up for the occasion is an understatment - their dress as casual as their music. And that's how it should be. I'm sure they scrub up just fine for a 'proper' gig - a wedding, perhaps, or a barbeque, but this gig is for them. They are doing this because they love it. And it shows. I can even tell which songs they like doing best. The blues and R&R are played with big grins on their faces, Hound Dog and Blue Moon of Kentucky rip from them with the kind of gusto I've reserved for my Thai curry. The latin stuff slinks around like the poor waitresses trying their best to edge between the tables.

The pop covers seem more like they've been added in as crowd-pleasers. They're ok - played perfectly well - but they're more like day-jobs - they're working at it. Doing them because they will get a bigger round of applause (which they do, btw.) Personally I'll take the Big Mama Thornton stuff every time.

Los Dawsons are gaining ground because they work at it behind the scenes - they are managing to get little one-offs in other venues now, but I find myself asking a bigger question. If these little places can make live music work on a simple, every day level (sorry Los Dawsons - I don't mean you're 'everyday' in a bad sense - I mean that the music you play is the kind of stuff that one can sit with a pint and a bowl of tapas and just relax to) then why can't more places have this kind of thing instead of forcing us to watch enormous TV monitors showing two obscure countries playing some obscure Eurosport or listen to the kind of muzak that nobody even hears?

Greenwich is full of musicians, both pro and amateur. We even have a major national music school here. But the amount of live music in our bars and restaurants is pitiful.

I urge you, however worn out by a weekend's relaxation you may be, make an effort to get down to see Los Dawsons for a final Sunday-night chill before the week begins. They're only there on alternate weeks; find out which ones here. And do pre-book - Cattleya can get very full indeed...

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Ruth asks:

"Know any good places for a spot of brekkie on a Sunday?"

The Phantom replies:

If you're sticking to Greenwich, then either Royal Teas or Peter de Wits will be excellent choices. As regular readers will know only too well, the selection at Royal Teas is limited, but what it is allowed to serve is very tasty indeed. I like the tiny courtyard at Peter de Wits on a Sunday, where I can dissect a broadsheet in peace - often, despite the throngs of tourists just a few yards away, alone. Up the road from Royal Teas, Buenos Aires is great for coffee and a pastry, but I'm not convinced they do proper breakfast.

I have eaten brunch at the Bar du Musee - it's ok - nothing to write home about, but good if you're in a large group.

If you're over at Blackheath, either for a visit to the Farmers Market or to listen to a Sunday morning concert at the Blackheath Halls, there are two brilliant places, though neither is palatial and you have to take your chances as to whether you'll get a seat.

Hand Made Foods has a fabulous selection of breakfasty-type stuff available - choose either their breakfast menu, or take your pick from the glorious sweet and savoury pastries in the window. It's frustrating and enchanting in equal quantities in that the amount of space in which to eat is tiny - exclusive, but often just not to be had. Things have got a bit better since they opened upstairs but you still need to check there will actually be somewhere to scoff your food before you order (unless you do it as a takeaway and eat it on the heath if it's sunny.)

Boulangerie Jade, a couple of doors up, is a very good alternative - possibly even better if you've a sweet tooth, though personally I always try Hand Made Foods first.

All the above do good coffee, but the new kid on the block if you're looking for superb coffee (and nothing else- they don't do food) is the fabulous New Zealand-style Beehive inside what was Flying Duck. I still have high hopes that he'll step into the shoes of glorious 1960s-o-rama, the much-lamented Coffee Cellar, managing in two strokes, to resuscitate retro icon and provide just a little seating...

I'm sure readers have other good suggestions for Sunday brunches...

The Golden Chippy

My head is turned by many things. The twinkle of a stream as it sparkles down a mountainside. The glow of a single, shimmering star on a cloudy night. The song of a unseen bird as it flits between the trees of a cool, shaded wood. In this particular case it was a tub of puce-pink petunias balanced precariously on top of a bollard.

There is a corner of Greenwich which is forever Golden. The Golden Cafe, The Golden Vineyard and the Golden Chippy form a little row of er, maroon shops in Greenwich High Road, opposite yet another building site which is squeezed in next to the waterworks and that new restaurant.

In fact I had intended to review Bar 57 - and I will, I promise, very soon. But sometimes a Phantom just has one of those fish-and-chip moments. This was one of them.

It really was the magnificent floral display that did it. A whole bunch of sundry pots and tubs filled up with bedding plants and arranged artistically on the ground next to a distinctly wobbly aluminium table and chairs. Can't have cost them more than a few quid - but that wasn't the point. I was particularly taken with the glowy-bollard with the Petunia hat. Sorry. Fish and Chips won out over fancy new paintwork and a pool-table sign.

I like The Golden Chippy. They're friendly - slightly on the wacky side, but really - in a good way - and they have all the things you remember about childhood fish suppers. The collection of greasy newspapers to read while you're waiting, the giant sauce bottles, the 'classic' selection of fish which they cook to order.

On this particular occasion, to celebrate the petunias, I wanted to sit outside and enjoy everything that Greenwich High Road in summer can provide. We sat back with our copy of The Express and read all about the terrible things that are going on in the world, most of which seemed to have something to do with Fergie.

"Let me know if you want more chips," said the guy as he brought out the most enormous plates of cod and chips I'd ever seen. A kind, but probably futile gesture - there was no way I was going to get through that lot, let alone need more. I'd only ordered the 'standard' fish option - heaven only knows what the supersize version would have been.

You know, folks, I do like all these fancy beer-batter dishes you get in places like The Trafalgar and the Yacht. Really I do - I had an excellent one in The Hill just a few days ago. But sometimes, just a plain, straightforward honest-to-goodness crispy batter to no special recipe is just the ticket - and that's what you get here. Dark golden fish, ever so slightly greasy, moist insides and good, honest-cut chips.

Actually, I did finish my chips. I was brought up to clear my plate and Phantom Mum was watching over my shoulder. I sat there at a wobbly table in the middle of Greenwich High Road, surrounded by petunias, scoffing chips smothered in red sauce. What better way to spend an evening?

So. The moral of the story. If you want a Phantom Visit, install some cheap bedding plants outside your place. I am just a moth to a flame...

(Sadly I didn't have my camera, so I don't have any pics of the plants. You'll just have to go yourself.)

Royal Teas

Ok - a long - but important one today...

I guess most of you will have heard by now that Royal Teas have finally lost their long-running battle with Greenwich Council over their ability to run the cafe properly - or indeed at all, given the restrictions they will now be put under. If you're anything like me, the thing had been rumbling on so long that you would have thought that the charges had been quietly dropped, but sadly not. Thanks to the small-mindedness of individuals, we are in grave, possibly imminent, danger of losing one of our best cafes.

I don't know about you, but I managed to get myself very confused about this over the years - a bit like when you start watching a situation, then a crisis, then finally a war break out over a period of months in the news. You're drip-fed info on a piecemeal basis - at first it seems like a storm in a Fair Trade teacup and you take little notice. By the time it's got serious, you're already lost in minutiae.

So I dropped a line to Raymond Voce, owner of Royal Teas, to get the record straight, which is why I didn't talk about this as soon as I heard (thanks to everyone who sent me the bad news - I guess I'd always rather know than not.) I'm going to give you pretty much what he told me - the bits in greeny-blue are his words. The rest are mine. This isn't quite over yet and there are things best whispered by a Phantom...

So, for the moment, over to you, Raymond...

"I have been at the cafe since 1999. From the onset I tried to get planning permission to knock down and rebuild our delightful toilet.

After a number of applications I got permission. Two weeks after getting this permission I received a letter from the Council saying I was not allowed to continue cooking on the premises. This is 2002. We appealed this decision and had a hearing at the Council in 2004. Before this we were required to draw up an extraction system for the kitchen, which we did and received a letter back from Environmental Health that our system was acceptable.

So the hearing took place no mention of the system was made by the Inspector during the eight hours - included a site visit - and we didn't bring it up because we thought it was no longer an issue. When we received his report it stated that we had lost and the majority of it was about how our proposed extraction system was not good enough. We felt that the
Inspector was at fault because to our minds his job is to ensure all the relevant points are discussed which he didn't do.

We had no chance to put our points across re this system. So we felt we didn't have a fair hearing and took this matter to the high court.

Are you still with me? I know, it is kind of boring. We lost at the High Court last year. The judge said we should have known the extraction system was always an issue. Incidentally, this took so long to be heard because Greenwich Council took forever to get their paperwork in.

We next applied to the Court of Appeal. An intermediate judge gave the go ahead as he was very concerned about the Councils behaviour. That takes us up to last week where we once again lost.

This time the conclusion was that if I had represented myself at the original Council hearing I would have had a very good case against the Inspector but as I took along a planning consultant - a professional - the onus was on him to raise any appropriate points. So how I see it is, the Inspector's job changes dependent on who else is there.

Doesn't seem right. Our Barrister is thinking of challenging this decision in the House of Lords - our case has now set this new precedent. It never ends!

Back back back.

The Inspectors report when dissing our extraction system made references to Public Services division section blah point blah. None of us had heard of them and it took a number attempts ringing the Council to find out who they were.

Well, they no longer existed and were superseded by two Environmental Health Departments. We had only got approval for the system from one of them. You would have thought that when we sent the plans to the address we were given by planning that they would ensure all relevant departments would see it. My point being with regards to the Court of Appeal decision, the planning Department itself didn't seem to know about this Public Services Department and the two new strands of the Environmental Department so how would an outsider, even if he is a 'professional,'know?"

Phantom, here, guys...

So anyway, While all this was going on, various individuals started coming out of the woodwork. People living around, complaining. So we basically have people moving in right slap bang over/next to a cafe and complaining they live right-slap bang over/next to a cafe. Raymond points out:

"At no other time have we received any other written complaints while I have been there."

Eventually the cafe got permission to extend - it's not very big - really just to improve that toilet (though I have to say as tiny, creaky old loos go, I don't hate it - there are far worse I could mention...) and maybe get an extra table (some pushchair space for those sodding buggies would do me.)But as Raymond says

"Obviously I can't spend that sort of money while this uncertainty is hanging."

So these individuals turned to moaning about the cooking smells. The main problem seems to be with the hideous smell of bacon. From a vegetarian cafe. Nice one.

Raymond Voce, admits that "Royal Teas does have a 'no cooking' condition attached to it."

But - and stay with us here - "because we have no commercial equipment and the soups and lunches we make are done in bulk and then reheated as ordered we were able to continue. We had over the years any number of people from Planning down and we were told just not to extend the menu, which we never have.

After getting permission for the extension it seems someone saw our file and encouraged the Council to take action even though we had been doing this since 1990."

The sundry individuals who hadn't noticed that they'd moved in next to a cafe, suddenly had the shock of their lives. Heavens! It seems they'd accidentally moved in by a pub too!!! That pesky pub and naughty cafe were clearly hiding when these people went to view the property. So now, the brewery were involved. Raymond is throwing his hands up here.

"Myself and the tenants at the pub really do our utmost to keep the impact of our businesses minimal to the surrounding area. We are very good neighbours, even if I do say so myself.

So at the Council hearing we applied to remove this 'no cooking' condition or alter it and specify exactly what we would be allowed to produce. Both suggestions were rejected."

So what now? - House of Lords possibly. Just to mention here that the Barrister has acted for us free of charge. He is an angel. The Planning Consultant after the Councils hearing also offered his service free of charge.

I am now in the process of trying to alter the menu. I need to hire a kitchen elsewhere in order to prepare the soups and lunches and I will also have to hire another person. Extra costs that are going to be difficult to cover. At the weekends when we make most of our money 90% of people will have one of the breakfasts that I am no longer able to produce.

At the Council hearing much was made of cooking and reheating and the distinction between the two. I am able to reheat I am told. We spent twenty minutes discussing whether cheesy beans on our menu was cooking or reheating. No conclusion was reached. It is difficult planning a menu when it is so vague as to what I am allowed to do. I have been told by planning that toast is cooking but I have also been told that it is ok for me to bake cakes. Makes no sense to me. We are listed as a tearoom and coffee shop surely I should be allowed to make toast."

What to do, folks? It worries me that some kind of nasty legal precedent seems to have been set here, allowing mean individuals up and down the country to move in next to places and then force them to change because they don't like it. All I can say is that I hope Raymond doesn't give up on the legal process. I don't believe he intends to.

"I love the cafe and our customers are great. There are not enough independent cafes as it is and so every effort will be made by us to keep this one going."

Here's one thought, Raymond - though it's not a cheap one...

As a dedicated East Greenwich-er, I have to tramp through the Park (what a hardship) to get to you. There's a lovely empty shop next door to Theatre of Wine (opposite the Arches) - why not have that as your "cooking facilities" - let's face it - no one can complain about the smell - it used to be a fish shop. At the same time, open it as Royal Teas II (or some other wonderful pun - I'm sure my readers will come up with some corkers for you) - and maybe a lovely wine-tasting shop in the evening, in conjunction with ToW????

Ok, I'll take my Phantom Fantasy Hat off now. Good luck.

In the name of Fairness, if any of those individuals who've been moaning about having moved into a place next door to a cafe and pub that were hiding when they viewed their new gaff want to tell me their side of the story, I'd LOVE to hear it...

An Unfortunate Incident...

...or The Phantom, The Food Waggon and The Very Messy Pie...

I have lost count of the number of you lovely people who have been telling me that Goddards Pies have managed to survive, despite being bought out of their lovely old shop by The Gourmet Burger people. I can understand their doing it and though selling pies out of a van could be seen as a step down, they are at least still going.

I was determined to try them out again before writing about it, and it's taken me all this time (a good few months) to get round to it. Time seems to be very short just now.

So. There we were, hungry, and in the tiny food-courty bit sandwiched by the bank and the railway line in Greenwich Church Street. A perfect opportunity to test Goddards at last.

They still do much the same range as before - all the old favourites (including rhubarb crumble, hooray.) And they're still as jolly and friendly as ever. We bought a selection, found ourselves a bench at the back (interestingly, although it was a Saturday, lunchtime, heaving outside and not tipping with rain there was loads of space) and dug in.

And yes, the stuff's pretty much the same as ever. With one exception. It's all ridiculously hot. I guess they have to keep it piping and you do have to eat it with your fingers these days instead of with a knife and fork, but this is something else.

It was all going pretty well until I bit into the cheese and onion pie. Now - I know I didn't have too many of them back in the days of the shop, but was it really just a sort of searing-hot goo in the olden times? This was like a cheesy version of instant mash potato when it's been made up with too much water.

I'll give you tasty. The actual flavour wasn't bad at at all. But it started to seep, then rain scorching spud all over me. I'd taken a paper napkin, so I was able to mop up as I went along, but once I'd got past the pastry, it all collapsed, covering me with red- hot (and very wet) potato.

Apart from the incredible pain, it was the shame that got me. A Phantom with red-hot potato smarmed all over their mush is not a pretty sight. Trouble was, by this time my napkin was already covered with cheesy pie innards, so the more I dabbed at the goo dribbling down my chin, the more I covered the rest of my face. It went on my nose, my cheeks, my lips - everywhere. My companions found it extremely amusing until they realised that my face was burning underneath. They got me more paper tissues and I cleaned up. It took about half an hour for the red marks to die down.

So. Here's my advice. By all means go to Goddards. And enjoy the lovely meaty/fruity/cheesy pies. Enjoy the friendly banter. But take lots of paper napkins and wear old clothes. Carrying some soothing ointment as a precaution may not go amiss.

Tudor Barn

Well Hall Pleasaunce, Eltham.

What staggers me about this building is that in the good old days of the 16th Century when it was at its peak, this fabulous moated Tudor pile was just the barn. The great house of Well Hall is long gone, and even its successor (both of which I'll talk about another day) has been dead for 80-odd years. Today, I'm just looking at the barn as a place to scoff tea and cakes.

It wasn't so long ago you could quaff as well as scoff. The barn and surrounding grounds (lovely in their own right - I'll get onto them when I talk about the Pleasaunce) were bought by Woolwich Metropolitan Borough Council in 1930 and the barn became first a restaurant, then a pub. To be honest it wasn't a very good pub - it had a great shell, but the interior was dull and the beer boring. The ambiance was flat and the atmosphere unwelcoming. I got the feeling the guv'nor didn't really care about the place. Greenwich Council got that feeling too and the place closed down.

After an unsuccessful attempt at a French restaurant - nice idea; was never going to work where it was without the TV clout of some celebrity chef - Greenwich Council have decided to turn it into a tea rooms during the day, and a venue for hire whenever they can get some cash.

I went to check out the teas one Friday afternoon whilst procrastinating. That will probably explain why I was the only person under the age of 80 and without a blue-rinse, though it was definitely well-used. They've cleaned it up since its pub days, but to be honest, there's still not an awful lot of atmosphere about it, given the place's history, fabric and surroundings. The walls are still painted creamy yellow and the furniture is municipal-cottagey. I can't quite explain it, but it still does feel a bit - well - civic. The interesting features - like the old fireplace and the stalls - weren't being used when I was there, and were plied up with spare chairs.

What I will give them, and give them in spades, is the friendliness of the staff. Cheery ladies serving cups of tea (I would have liked a pot - teabags in cups is never something I like to encourage) and huge wodges of very obviously home-baked Victoria Sponge, at really rather decent prices. I like a nice slice of Victoria sponge and this lived up to what it looked like - slightly wonky and slightly too full of jam. Perfect.

This place is so very nearly there. As a tea rooms, it is certainly very 'nice.' But in this particular case, I think I would like it to be even 'nicer.' I think they could afford to actually push themselves further in the cute-stakes. Normally I'd never suggest anything so naff, but with these particular surroundings, the jolliness of the matrons and the homey-ness of the cakes, I want sugary-sweet pastel cuteness too. Tea in flowery pots, Cath Kidston tablecloths, a whole array of massive cakes on glass stands under glass domes, and ladies in 'Nippy' outfits talking like that woman out of Brief Encounter.

I don't know. Maybe it wouldn't work. Maybe something as knowing as that would be a bit Tunbridge Wells and this is, after all, Eltham - posh in places, definitely un-posh in others. In the meanwhile, this is a sweet place to take the kids (or Gran) for tea and not break the bank. I haven't tested it out as a venue for birthday parties, weddings etc. but I can't imagine it's too expensive and with a bit of effort it could look great upstairs. You'd probably get a discount with a GreenwichCard too...

Find a few more details here.

Oh Beehive!

Beehive Cafe

Ex-Flying Duck, Creek Road

I have been trying to get to this place since Angie told me it was going to open - in my keen-ness I managed to go before it was actually operative. I had a lovely chat with the people who have moved into Flying Duck's old gaff - four of them in all, all ex-market people - two lots of vintage clothes, a record guy and the coffee man. All delighted to have their own premises at last (the biggest comment was 'out of the cold - at last') even if they have to share it to be able to afford the rent. But we owe the Flying Duck people a big vote of thanks in that they may have gone themselves, but they absolutely refused to allow any chains to come in in their place and happily allowed independents to split the rent.

Then Real Life got in the way. I got emails by the crate-load - M&R, Darren, Jen, Angie, Katja - to name just the ones I can remember - telling me how good this coffee is, but only actually managed to get there yesterday.

And now I know what the fuss is about. This coffee is fabulous, folks. A worthy contender for the now-open crown (since the tragic demise of the Coffee Cellar) of "Best Coffee In Greenwich." Rich and satisfying, yet mellow and un-bitter at the same time, it's the owner's own blend, roasted by his own fair hand at his roastery in Charlton (you can still buy it at his stall on Stockwell St Market at weekends.)

The guy's Antipodean (I can't tell from his accent whether he's Aussie or a New Zealander - I'm sure someone will put me right) and they take their coffee very seriously Down Under. It truly is exceptional coffee - and for homesick antipodeans everywhere, yes, they do Flat Whites, and served with that all-important smile on their faces. It truly made me wonder at the queue outside the deeply inferior Starbucks that I had to pass to get to Beehive.

In fact my only complaint is the size of the place. It's minute. There's a couple of chairs around but apart from that you can really only get takeaway - nice enough on a day like this but less fun on a rainy Monday. Three of us trooped in and it was overcrowded. He needs a bigger place and quick.

But I have a cunning plan, and it goes like this.

We all visit this great new cafe, buy lots of coffee and then persuade the owners (someone told me it was Joy, but it could be Greenwich Hospital Trust) of the now-vacated Coffee Cellar to give the Beehive guy a good rent. We then persuade him to keep the groovy 60s theme and we'll once again have fantastic coffee in cool retro surroundings. Voila!

If you want to order hand roasted coffee - either for mail order or to pick up at the market stall, visit http://www.londoncoffeeroasters.co.uk/

Foster's Cafe

10, Old Dover Road, SE3

Sodding Blogger is playing up again this morning, refusing to let me load photos, so I thought I'd fall back on a little cafe at the Blackheath Standard that I'm rather fond of.

Despite its name, Fosters is run by an Italian family (or at least it always has Italian staff when I'm in there and there are a selection of touristy plates on the wall with relief pictures of the Tower of Pisa. The Phantom is nothing if not observant...) It's not as funkliy retro as Gambardella round the corner - the walls are plain white with the woodwork picked out in a strange dusky-puce; the tables and chairs are in that varnished pine that was popular in the 70s and 80s, but I like it just as well as the last-decorated-in-the-50s Gambardella.

The guy who runs Fosters has a bit of the retro about him himself, kitted out in a little cotton cover-all dust jacket and, since the smoking ban, often to be seen taking a sneaky break outside, chatting to passers-by. He disapproves of my coffee choice. The ritual goes like this: I ask for an Americano; he purses his lips and looks at me with all the disgust he can muster at this abomination of the Italian language. He asks if I'm sure I really want it "weak and black." I say yes. He shuffles off with a pitying look for such a feeble Phantom.

It's worth the discussion though. It's good coffee, done with a proper espresso machine. The range of food is very definitely 'caff' - and it's usually very munchable. I am a bit of a fan of their 85p toasted teacakes, but the cooked stuff's good too. They also have a small range of Italian deli-type stuff - amaretto biscuits, pasta, the odd tin of anchovies etc for purchase as you leave.

Between this one and Gambardella? Not much in it. Depends on how much you like 1950s vintage decor, I guess...

Coffee Cellar's Demise?

Anne has pointed out something worrying about the Coffee Cellar:

"I went past today and its no longer there - theres plastic sheeting in the windows and it seems my favourite little piece of Greenwich has gone! Its been shut for the last 2 weeks - the weekend before that the guy who runs it was telling me he was going to have to go into hospital and I'm a bit worried and thought you might know!"

The Phantom replies:

To my great shame, I've hardly been around for the past few weeks and I've clearly been taking my eye off the ball. Rumours have been abounding about the poor guy's health for some time. I had hoped he was getting better. I'm sorry to hear this. Perhaps he's finally retired. I will miss the place.

I guess it's possible it's just being spruced up - but in a way that would sadden me even more. What I love about this place is its shabby, atmospheric 1960s/70s interior, with that fantastic orange mosaic cubby hole at the back and the hip, funky gloom the place exudes. It's a place to cocoon yourself, on a rainy day, when your boyfriend's gone off with your best mate and the dancette's at the mender's. A place to pore over Lambretta maintance manuals with the lads or giggle with your girlfriends about Twiggy's new haircut.

To lose that atmosphere would be to lose something fundamental about the very coffee itself, let alone the cafe. After all, we can buy coffee anywhere (though decent coffee is somewhat harder to find.) What I really love is finding somewhere that gives me that extra something - that je ne sais quoi that feeds the soul as well as the body. If the Coffee Cellar's gone, it will be a sad day indeed.

The Blackheath Tea Hut

Or, The Phantom Jumps Down Off The Fence...

I've been meaning to write about the most controversial greasy spoon in Greenwich (well, ok, on the border) for some time, but the catalyst has definitely been Alexandra Moskalenko's documentary Tea Time, which has just come out on DVD and which will enjoy a screening at the Picturehouse on Feb 3rd.

It's a charming little docco - made by Moskalenko over four years, but actually covering the life of the hut during the span of one. What makes it such a fascinating subject is that it's open 24 hours a day, on the most windswept part of the heath, and yet it still attracts customers on a year-round, day-round basis.

And what customers. From the police and emergency services, cabbies and truckers, through bikers and carny-folk, all the way to families and tourists, this place has a little micro-community of its own. It attracts loners and insomniacs, drifters and misfits, businessmen and sharp-suits. All of whom muddle along together in that small, timeless world that a tea break provides from whatever else is going on in one's life. The film, perhaps wisely, concentrates on the human element of this South London institution, with interviews and long-shots, portraits and closeups, rather than giving us a history lesson. The music, especially, reflects this - from eerie out-of-tune pub-piano to the Ian Dury-esque At The 'Ut (you get a nice cup 'a tea...)

Perhaps it is the oddball, edgy quality of the folk who visit this funny little stall that makes 'ordinary' people like The Blackheath Society so angry about its existence. Their almost-disproportionate misgivings range from its being an eyesore, a blot on the community and a litter-magnet to being rowdy and environmentally damaging. A pick & mix shopping cart of complaints which perhaps conceal the real problem they have with such a place - that it's not 'within' Society - that it has an 'outsider' quality that can never quite be contained. A quality that lingers from the dangerous days of the Greenwich Fair, of Jack Cade's Cavern, of tumbling, and still hovers, like a slightly bad smell, whenever the circus comes to town.

What I like about this documentary is that it doesn't shy from these difficult topics. It represents the extraordinary lives of ordinary people - each has a story to tell, not least that of Nick, a regular, who, by sheer dint of personality, manages to become the central character. A damaged, almost lost soul, Nick manages to find a little stability in his world whenever he makes it up to the hut, and despite his tough appearance and sarf-London accent, slowly reveals himself to be a pussycat - an adorable figure who relies on the camaraderie of the motley characters at the tea shack to get him through a life that has seen much pain.

And that's true of all the regulars interviewed. They nearly all look menacing on the outside - some might even say hard - it's even implied that there indeed are one or two villains among them - but scratch the surface and they are charming - and articulate, too, in their own individual ways. Moskalenko has taken the time and effort to find the stories here, to imply, not lay-on thick, the personal worlds this funny little place provides a haven for.

Oddly, the hut itself is less of a character than I expected. Whether in the height of summer or under a sprinkling of snow, it's merely a meeting place for unlikely people to get together. Perhaps this is because the building itself is of a temporary nature - temporary to fit the transitory nature of the people who use it.

What impressed me most was the inclusion of Neil Rhind, of whom I am normally a HUGE fan. I adore his meticulous work, his devotion to Blackheath and its history, his detailed writing, his eloquent speaking. As the president of the Blackheath Society, he agreed to be interviewed for this film. Now this is an intelligent man. He must have known that whatever he said would make him look like a NIMBY - and he did it anyway. I admire him all the more for having the guts to do it.

That's not that I agree with him. I hear his arguments - he is big enough (and has the integrity as a historian) to admit that there has been a tea-servery (albeit not 24hrs) on the site since the reign of Charles II (indeed Moskaleko interviews an octogenarian who remembers drinking tea there in his youth) but complains that it looks appalling, creates a traffic and noise problem and is environmentally unsound. The Blackheath Society proposes, I understand from the people in this film, to spend £2m on 'improving' Blackheath - including a giant ridge of earth to disguise the A2, which would engulf the tea hut. Perhaps it's even true.

You know, I struggle to see what harm there is in this little shack. In recent years the owner's made an effort to tidy it up and pick up his litter - you'll find far more elsewhere on the heath. It's miles away from anywhere, it doesn't serve alcohol, and even the police in the film admit there's virtually no trouble. I've enjoyed a fair few cups there myself. Tuesday nights are a good time, when an entire youth club from Rochester make a pilgrimage to the shack. I haven't ever heard of any trouble from them. And I never leave without a chat with someone.

I find it quite telling that the two sides have never actually met in this dispute. And that Neil Rhind has been the only person brave enough to raise his head above the parapet. At a recent licensing hearing no other bugger turned up, so the licence went through, according to the owner. The BS gets almost apoplectic over this strange little half-world, and yet they don't actually appear to have really looked at it.

It seems to me that both sides need to move on now; to actually meet. The Blackheath Society has cash to spend, but the heath belongs to all, and that includes the people who use the hut. Surely there must be some way they can live together? Maybe the society could fork out some money to make the hut more attractive, rather than obliterating it? In return, the owners of the hut can make sure that the litter is always cleared up and that people park tidily.

One final thought, not totally disconnected. If there was to be a giant earthen ridge to shield the eye from the A2, would the Highways Agency see this as a good excuse to make it a dual carriageway? Just an idle ponder.

See Tea Time for yourself. You can buy it on DVD at the Pepys Visitor Centre (the best place I know for local history books) or, if you buy it at the 'ut itself, you get a free nice cup 'a tea with it...

Oh - and if you want a biscuit to go with it, try http://www.nicecupofteaandasitdown.com/

Hand Made Foods (Upstairs)

Tranquil Vale, SE3

We all know how good Hand Made Foods fare is - excruciatingly expensive, of course, but utterly wonderful. That pastry, those tarts, those pies, those salads - every single dish is fabulous - and frankly, for quality this high, I'm happy to push the boat out from time to time.

Only one real problem. Where to sit whilst eating it. The shop is tiny and most of the interior was taken up with - well - food, and the odd bar-place. Outside, the little wooden tables are a wonderful way to while away a lazy half-hour but try getting one. Short of hovering over some poor sod who may or may not be finishing and then fighting off three other would-be munchers with elbows and carrier bags - so uncivilised - only the takeaway option remained.

But what's the alternative? Expansion? Trouble is, that virtually every expansion I've ever witnessed has seen a corresponding contraction in quality. (Has anyone else been to Maison Bertaux since it expanded? Twice the price and half the atmosphere.) First it's next door, then it's a small chain, next thing you know it's become a 'brand' and private equity funds are sniffing around (Cue Patisserie Valerie, since we're sort-of in Soho for this paragraph...) Somehow I feel more abandoned by small, cute companies that have expanded to the point of being stock exchange fodder than the big multinationals that never pretended to be anything else.

Hand Made Foods, happily still a long way from being buyout-ammo, has found a half-way house - albeit only a temporary one. They've expanded upstairs. And it's charming. What was clearly the original shopkeeper's old front parlour, complete with fireplace and homely feel has been simply painted, given a couple of funky pictures and a few old wooden kitchen tables and mis-matched chairs and opened as an upstairs eating area. The pics are good - I like the circular one above the mantel, though I confess I was sorely tempted to colour-in the oneimmediately above my place - it's exactly like a giant version of those 'painting by numbers' kits you get as a kid.

It's still a bit of a bunfight to get a seat, but not as bad as it was. I couldn't decide (as usual) so contrived to eat various pies and pastries vicariously through the people I was with ("Oooh - that one looks amazing, doesn't it, George...") and although I was actually brought the wrong item (something I didn't realise until I bit into it) it was so good I didn't complain - I'll just have to have what I originally ordered next time...

The problem is already beginning to resurface though. Even six months after they first opened upstairs, you already have to check there's somewhere to sit before you make any choices. I just hope they have a third floor.

But the food is as incredible as ever. As one of my companions remarked "It's the sort of food you'd make yourself if you had the time. And the ingredients. And the energy. And the skill..."

La Fleur

Royal Hill, SE10

I have often walked down this street before

But the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before...

What a delight. I have been meaning to try La Fleur properly for ages - it just looked so lovely from the outside. But I always seemed to have just had a cup of tea (funny that - must be the proxmity of Royal Teas and Buenos Aires) and the most I have got around to was buying plants.

Walking past a few days ago, though, I just couldn't resist the Christmas display (all white branches and clear sparkles against the pale sagey-green of the paintwork, with wonderful winter flowers - cyclamen, narcissus, holly and ivy) and just had to go in. I'm sure there are more tables and chairs in there since the last time I was there - I could have sworn there were only a couple of tables before. There are now at least four - though of course the tiny space itself hasn't increased, and the jungle of ferns, palms and even a baby olive tree, its grey-silver leaves looking fabulous against the tasteful cream walls. Also looking great are the 'gardening tools' and coloured wellies hung as decoration in the few gaps left by the greenery.

The tables are suitably rustic - French style, which considering the French voices at the till while I was there (aha - those Holmesian deduction skills again) is hardly surprising. The service is incredibly friendly. I was hardly ordering a feast - a coffee and a tea - but the attention to detail to getting my order exactly to my taste was impressive. It's amazing how much difference really good service makes - I just knew I was going to enjoy it when it arrived.

They do simple snacks too, and I fancied a cake, even though I knew I shouldn't have one. My willpower is low at the best of times but even I was able to resist that day. Why? Because I can't resist cakes if I see them, but I can resist description. They didn't have sweeties on display so I had to ask about them. By the time they'd told me what cakes they had, I had regrouped and was able to say "no thank you I don't really feel like it." Almost convincingly. A bunch of antique glass cake stands on the dresser filled with exquisite dainties and covered with cloches would have made a sale out of me without a sweat.

But hey. I love this place and the experience, just with the beverages, was great.

I wanted to test the loos (as I always do) and was directed into the most beautiful, minute, private back yard imaginable. In it were a few more tables, nestling among yet more fernery - utterly delightful (though far too cold and wet at the moment, natch...) The loo (once I found it amongst all that greenery) was splendid - clean and bright.

They're doing some rather charming Christmas decorations at the moment, which glitter and glimmer darkly in the shop, sparklies mixing with berries - very tasteful. And as for that dresser - there may not be any cakes on glass stands but they do have boxes of posh chocolates in holly-print boxes - very pretty.

The Phantom says check it out - possibly my fave place for afternoon tea - so far. I t could even become a Phantom favourite Haunt...

Peter de Wits Breakfast/Lunch

Something that always puzzles me about Sundays in Greenwich is that while the market and surrounding shops, the park and - well - practically everywhere else in the town is heaving, Peter de Wits is nearly always virtually empty whenever I walk in for brunch.

Maybe the tourists just walk past - it's small and perhaps unexciting-looking from the front and perhaps the (very slightly - we're not talking Las Vegas here) flashier-from-the-front-but-a-bad-idea-once-you-get-inside sandwich shop next door looks more inviting. PdW's, after all, has plain white walls and simple-looking tables where the sandwich shop has cakes in the window (don't bother trying them - they promise an AWFUL lot more than they deliver) but this is one case where looks alone are deceiving.

I have always had a soft spot for Peter de Wits anyway. Any cafe that's only got about eight tables that still manages to present live jazz two nights a week (and not just local music students - proper names) deserves a bit of respect. But I actually enjoy their food. It's a simple menu, that doesn't try to overstep the size of the kitchen - on Sunday I had a slice of the special quiche - all home-made and very enjoyable and the very fact that the tourists seem to pass the place by often means I can take my paper in there and enjoy a cup of coffee and a simple lunch virtually undisturbed. The staff are always friendly (as opposed to next door) and the prices, though not bog-low, are fair.

It's particularly lovely in the summer, when they open up the back and there are a couple of ancient tables surrounded by pots of whippy greenery next to the loos (much nicer than it sounds.) I am always slightly surprised when I can get a seat out there as it's such a sweet little secret corner in the very centre of town, but I've never been disappointed yet. Just the place to dissect a Sunday paper and its never-ending supplements...

Peter deWits has undecipherable opening hours. I often try to go there and it's shut. I have to make do with the Organic Cafe opposite which is nice enough, and reliable, but not as fun as PdW (try reading the paper next to the loos there you won't be popular - there's often a queue and it's next door to the kiddies' play area...) You just have to accept that PdW's seems to open on a whim and enjoy it when you strike lucky...

Pavilion Tea House

Greenwich Park

There is always something a bit "corporate" about tea houses in parks - whether council-run or, as in this case, by Royal Parks. And within that format you're never really going to get anything truly cosy and unique, but within its limited remit, The Pavilion Tea House up by the Observatory does pretty well.

It helps that it's not only got a great situation - right at the top of the hill, within designated grounds of its own which can afford fantastic views from between the gaps in pretty, leafy shrubbery, but also a sweet, traditional building that feels very 'park-like.' I can't find out how old it is, but I'm guessing the early years of the 20th Century or maybe 1920s (does anyone know?) It's very pretty and inviting.

Inside it's bright and light and clean, and having been made 'accessible' has nice wide aisles easy to manoeuvre around on all but the busiest days. There aren't that many seats inside - presumably they're working on most people only going to the park on good days; I suppose with a historic building they don't have much of an option anyway. The service is friendly.

They make an effort in sourcing the food they sell - fair trade and organic where possible (it gets double points for serving the fabulous Union Coffee Roasters coffee.)I've not tried the premises-cooked food, which I guess I should, as its clearly where all the effort goes in. The menus seem interesting - maybe someone here can comment upon it; I have only ever had the tea/coffee and buns.

There's ye olde tea-bag-in-a-mug problem, of which I disapprove - how hard is it to supply a few teapots - and on my most recent visit, there was only one kind of milk at the serve-yourself milk and sugar table. The buns are bog-standard - chocolate fudge/scones/rock cakes and the usual Burts crisps. Nothing to complain about, nothing to get excited about, but a general all-round ok option in the middle of the park.

It's recently been re-landscaped and it's got a much bigger garden now, surrounded by chestnut trees, yew hedges and big tubs of splendidly blousy blooms. The tables are solid and come with big parasols (handy, given the weather we have just now) and plenty of opportunistic birdlife.


They advertise Weddings and functions there - anyone been to one? It feels a bit 'public' to me, even cordonned off, but you can't knock the views...

If you're really after individual, make your way down to Royal Teas or Buenos Aires, but if you're already in the park and want to enjoy a reasonable cup of tea and a bun in a pretty garden, then the Pavilion Tea House is really rather nice...

Coffee Cellar

Turnpin Lane, SE10

"The best coffee in Greenwich"

That's quite a boast, given the sheer number of cafes - both in the town centre and the surrounding streets, but it's boldly stated outside this tiny little bolthole in one of Greenwich's most curious alleyways. It's a challenge that at least doesn't go unnoticed.

The weird thing is that in many ways I hadn't really noticed, until relatively recently, the cleverly titled Coffee Cellar, next door to JOY's back entrance (oooh-err, missus),despite the fact that it must have been here for years. Either this curious place used to be something else back in the swinging sixties (from the decor I'd say that was the date of its last refit) or that's as long as its owner has been lurking in the darkness here.

Turnpin Alley is narrow and gloomy, brightened only by its funky little shops - Red Door, Daisy Cakes Bake etc. - and it isn't a natural first choice to sit at the tiny little tables outside, craning to find the last remaining rays of sun. Besides, what makes this place so interesting is its unreconstituted 1960s (early 70s, perhaps?) interior.

Upstairs, the minute shop is painted in muted buff, peppered with stools and a little bar against the banister of the staircase leading down to a lounge-area, also small, and pleasingly scruffy, with low chairs and tables, to be peeked at through a circular window. In itself nothing particularly special.

What really makes this place cool is the tiny little hutch right at the back, from which the coffee is dispensed. The serving hatch to it is also circular but, in suitably psychedelic fashion, the walls behind it are in fabulous mottled-orange mosaic tiles - the closest Greenwich gets to a Mod coffee bar. I'd put money on it's being original, and can almost smell the Vespa oil. A photo of the owner from days gone by gives another clue that I was just unobservant in the past. Service is friendly, and although the guy installed in the kiosk-bit at the back seemed at first taciturn, I got a big smile halfway through my coffee that brought a warm glow to my heart (ahhh...)

What I like about this place is that it has clearly evolved (a very tiny bit) rather than being 'created' like modern "theme bars." A place that had been 'styled' would have, in the niche above the stairs for example, a funky Mod phone or display of 1960s kitsch. What it actually has is a kettle and two equally unremarkable canisters. A theme bar wouldn't include modern metal racks for an odd assortment of organic goods in the window. And yet, somehow it's absolutely ok here. The walls have displays of local artists' work - there's currently some stunning photos of the moon in Greenwich Park and sundry musicians by local photographer Idris de Angeli. I happily passed the time reading from the selection of What's On leaflets which appeared to be quite different from those I've seen in other places. I found a couple of things I'll be checking out later from them.

And the coffee? Well it certainly is very good. The best in Greenwich? I'm not sure. More research needs to be done...

Alacosta Coffee

Trafalgar Road, SE10

As a coffee shop in a location already saturated with cafes, you have to make an effort just to keep up. In just a couple of blocks there must be half a dozen cafes - Point Zero, Channers and The Trafalgar to name just a few - and even with the demise of Shamrock, there are still enough takeaways and pubs in those few metres of Trafalgar Road to dizzy the would-be coffee drinker...

Alacosta isn't instantly visible - it's one of those places I don't always notice. It's the same height as all the other shops, of course, but there's somehow something 'low-lying' about it which slips under the radar. Now I sit here to write I can't remember whether I stepped down into it or not (probably not) but it felt like I did.

This isn't necessarily a bad thing. I like a cafe that's warm and dark and womb-like and there is definitely something cosy about the interior here. The walls are orange-painted panelling and there are, if I remember, smoky, deco-shaped mirrors on the walls. The reason I can't recall too well is because I was instantly drawn by the fact that there was a garden out the back. I ordered by the counter (which was pleasingly piled with cakes, biscuit brands I had never heard of and, in the chiller, interesting sandwich fillings) and toddled straight out back.

What do you do with a back yard the size of a box-room surrounded by other, equally tiny gardens, overlooked by buildings and facing North? Alacosta have done their best. They've clearly recently enclosed the place with new fence panels and (perhaps somewhat hastily) erected decking - probably the best option for this awkward space. There are signs apologising for the uneven steps and the lack of railings around it, which makes me think they're intending to put these things right - and one or two of the chairs do look a little close to the edge.

There are a couple of parasols and some tubs of flowers, and the sight of a few nodding pansies goes some way to softening the hard landscaping which is still that very orange colour of newly-treated fencing. It's spoilt a bit by the plastic flowers also tucked in there, and I don't think that Christmas tree by the back gate will ever manage another season (it has the unfortunate effect of one that was just shoved in the back after the festive season - and would do better planted out somewhere) - what would really make a big difference here would be some tall, graceful bamboo - it would suit this space very well.

But, oh damn, I've done my usual thing of going off on one about the decor without discussing the food. The sandwiches are fine - nothing special, but still with plenty of filling and served with a smile. My tea was also served with a smile, but was a rather weak until I got to the bottom where I found the teabag lurking, so squashed that it hadn't had a chance to brew. Of course they're not alone in doing that. Have none of these places heard of a teapot?

Apart from the teabag thing, Alacosta is really quite a good little caff. The service is very sweet indeed, they've made an effort with the decking out back and the food's not bad at all. Its real problem is that it is virtually opposite The Trafalgar Cafe, whose dishes are much more substantial (real 'meals' as opposed to a quick bite) and whose reputation is justly deserved.

Royal Teas

Royal Hill, SE10

Every so often I get myself a bit confused. There comes a place that is so "obvious" for review that I actually assume that I've already written about it. It comes as a bit of a shock when someone points out that I haven't. I have no idea how Royal Teas slipped through the net, but there you go. I thought I'd already 'covered' it. There are others which will come up and bite me on the backside, I am sure...

It's a Greenwich institution, of course. Royal Teas seems to have been around for ever - must be twenty years at least. It's ostensibly a vegetarian cafe, though there is the odd dish which includes salmon - it's good to see that they're not too evangelical about it. It's a tiny place, which can get a bit full, especially when there are a lot of pushchairs parked in there, and I have found that timing is everything - trying to second-guess busy periods is an skill which can be acquired with practice.

The front room of what was clearly once a cottage has mix & match tables and chairs, shared with a splendid piece of metal furniture with large drawers for various types of coffee bean and tea, which you can either drink on the premises or take home a bag of to enjoy later. I have no idea what the piece of apparatus in the window is - some kind of coffee-making equipment, I presume, but it's rather beautiful in itself and is purely decorative these days.

The back room has more tables and the counter, leading out to the back where they make all those great snacks and meals, and, of course, their famed cakes. The decor has a slightly 'updated hippy' feel - orange and purple, which is both cosy and welcoming.

I'll warn you now. it will be difficult to finish anything you get served here. The portions are satisfyingly huge. I don't know if they do doggy bags; one day I think it will be worth an ask as it is the sort of thing they might encourage. Among their breakfasts (served all day) is a monster American version which is frighteningly large - but so tasty you find yourself eating far more than you intended. The baguettes are shoved full of so much filling that it's most inelegant to try to eat (though I have a minor gripe with one I had the other day in that I had vast amounts of cheese and salad, but the effect was rather dry - I could have had less cheese and replaced it with a little butter to bind it all together.) I've never had the cream tea, but I've watched other people tucking in and I will get round to it one day, judging from the looks on their faces it will be well worth the wait.

The cakes are fabulous. I don't really need to go into too much detail as I'm sure I'm preaching to the converted. My favourite is the lemon, but more research is needed to be absolutely sure.

To anyone who doesn't know, the slightly odd "fairy tale" in the window refers to a long-running dispute with Greenwich Council. After many years of R.T's existence, the council suddenly discovered the place and, at first, heaped praise and help on its owners, offering them grants and all kind of plaudits. It was only later that the council changed its tune. The place didn't have a proper licence, it argued, and the men in grey tried to shut it down. Royal Teas itself is fighting back, aided by devoted local residents (though the most local - the person upstairs, I'm told, moans about the disruption. How does this happen, I wonder? Someone moves in above a cafe, then complains that they live above a cafe? Maybe I've missed something here...)

The dispute with the council rumbles on. In the meanwhile, Royal Teas continues as normal, its friendly, cheery staff coping as best they can with the question mark above their heads. Visit them while you can (though, as a dedicated 'good loo' aficionado I must warn you - don't make a pilgrimage for the restroom facilities - there is a certain charm about it and it's perfectly clean but it's hardly a 'destination loo') and let them know that this is the kind of thing we need to encourage more, not less of, in Greenwich.

http://www.royalteascafe.co.uk/