Funny how you can think that because you’re good at one thing, that you might be good at another, only to find that you’re crashingly hopeless. I’m a good pool player, for example, but my golf game is dire, despite me assuming that balls in holes is balls in holes. With golf I have the odd amazing shot, but generally I’m slicing balls into forests and throwing my clubs in the water. But with pool, I’ve actually been warned off a winner-stays-on pub marathon in Scotland. “Ye better no win the next one,” cautioned an auld fella. I hadn’t even realised there were disgruntled Scottish heavies lined up scowling at the English bird who was making them all look silly. Anyway, I digress, sort of.
I’m a crack shot at clays – genuinely, I hardly miss a single one – and I love shooting. So I just assumed I’d be really good at axe throwing. Yeah, I said axe throwing, and yeah, I was absolutely dreadful. I took the Silver team there for our summer do. Thankfully we had cocktails afterwards, not before. And some of us were terrible, and some were just brilliant. I would say I was just below ‘Astoundingly awful.’ (Don’t even think about it, Lezard. A “Team outing” here is half a shandy and a bag of cheese’n’onions at The Eddy).
Despite the best efforts of the lovely Viking (Ben from Newcastle, resplendent with red beard and long hair and huge muscles who was coaching us), I was, on the whole, really a bit rubbish at axe throwing. A bit like golf, actually, I got the odd one in. And it’s very satisfying when the blade THUNKS into the wood. But mostly I watched, helpless, as the axe went rogue, splintering things and smashing into everything except the target. I tried not to get annoyed.
Ellie the intern, who is as slim as an actual blade and frankly looks like a good gust of wind would take her out, was thudding the axes into the board every single time. And burying them deep, further supporting the assumption that it’s all in the wrist. I watched her, wondering what she was doing and trying to emulate her relaxed flick, but to no avail.
The only moment of actual glory I had during the whole escapade was when I landed two axes at once in the same board (on purpose). There is video footage of me capering about and yelling in disbelief. But apart from that, axes were largely not doing what I wanted. It was, however, enormous fun and I would recommend it to anyone. Hatchet Harry’s is at the bottom of Dyke Road, and well worth a visit.
Sam is founder and Editor-in-Chief of Silver Magazine – for the mature maverick. www.silvermagazine.co.uk
It’s 10 o’ clock on a summer Friday morning at the Gardener Café. Mick is carrying a box of red peppers down to the kitchen where vats of black beans and quinoa are bubbling. Sarah is making pastry for scones, sweet and savoury, cartons of yellow label strawberries, just on the turn, piled behind her ready for Karen Lloyd to reduce them into an accompanying jam. Elodie is chopping pretty pink radishes, and the air is fresh with camaraderie.
This is the Real Junk Food Project’s central Brighton kitchen, bang in Gardener Street in the middle of the North Laine’s most vibrant shopping and café area. Mick and Sarah are volunteers, Karen and Elodie just two of the few paid staff, and the red peppers, black beans, quinoa, flour and strawberries just part of a massive haul from the overnight supermarket waste run.
The Real Junk Food Project, whose mantra is “feed bellies not bins” was created by Adam Smith in Leeds in 2013, and has since grown into a national and international movement of cafes, projects and pop-ups with one core objective: To intercept food waste destined for land fill and use it to feed people who need it, on a ‘pay as you feel’ basis. With afterschool clubs at its sister café, The Fitzherbert Community Hub in Kemptown, and pay as you feel cafes at St Lukes Church, Hollingdean Community Centre and Bevendean Hub, it’s a busy operation.
“We have volunteers driving electric vans to supermarkets across the city picking up amazing food that would otherwise go to waste,” Karen told me. “We get cakes and breads, flour, dairy, all sorts of vegetables. A lot of it hasn’t even got the stickers on it. It’s just surplus. There’s literally nothing wrong with the food at all. But if it’s not collected that will just go into the bins and into landfill. It’s absolutely disgusting.”
Disgusting is the right word. “A quarter to a third of food produced globally, is wasted” says the RJFP website, “and yet, there’s estimated to be 795 million people who do not get enough to eat. In the UK, two million people are estimated to be malnourished, while the UK as a whole creates an estimated 15 million tonnes of food waste every year.” If waste was a country, according to the UN, it would be the third largest in the world.
But there’s not much time to chat about the politics this morning. Karen and her team are on a deadline. “Once it comes to our cafes, we chefs look at the food, decide on the menu, and get on with it”, says Karen. ‘We have three hours to get on with service.”
The black beans, which have been soaked overnight, are going to go into a chilli and the Buddha bowls. The quinoa will become a tabouleh, while the pumpkin seeds have been roasted with a little bit of tamari. The mung beans have also been soaking to encourage them to sprout and will be added to the Buddha bowls.
In the walk-in fridge, massive Kilner jars of fermented celeriac, sauerkraut, kimchis and jams line the shelves. Herbs, tomatoes, lettuces, courgettes and cucumbers – often organic and donated from personal allotments, local farmers and Infinity Foods, but most of which have come in on the supermarket run in the last 24 hours, are piled high in boxes, ready to be cooked up over the weekend.
By lunchtime, the tables outside are packed with students, families and homeless people, often sharing a long table. “It’s all pay-as-you-feel” says Karen, “so it gives everyone the chance to get a really good meal.” This is a place to have lunch with a friend, or strike up a conversation with someone with a whole new life view. You choose. “It does get people talking” says Karen, “and hopefully they talk about how good the food is. I think that’s what food does, doesn’t it?”
If people can afford it though, they try to encourage them to pay it forward. And with funding a perpetual problem on top of the cost of living crisis driving people to find food more cheaply, it’s hitting the tills at the Gardener Café hard. “We have a suggested donation of £6.50”, but most people are
giving £1 or £2 for a full meal.”
The daily lunch on Monday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday is just one part of what Karen and her team of volunteers cook up over the course of the week. “This Saturday, we’re doing a 60th birthday party for 100 people. We’re making canapes and Buddha bowls for them. When the clients come to see us, we’ll go through a basic menu and make them aware it can change. We did a canape event on Wednesday for Wired Sussex. They wanted to know what the menu was going to be, but I couldn’t give it to them until three hours before the event because the ingredients can change. But when we got there and they saw the food, they were amazed by it.”
It’s clear that this is much more than a cheffing job for Karen, whose signature red lipstick and bleach blonde quiff suggests an interesting back story. “I moved to Brighton five years ago after living in Spain for 15 years. My partner had died and I was trying to find work and get back into the catering. I did some voluntary work for Junk Food, and I found my family, basically. That’s what it felt like. So, it really helped me to find my feet again after a very sad time in my life.”
If you want to get involved with the Real Junk Food Project, go to its website for more information. Donate if you can, but the real fun is lunch in the sunshine with whoever sits next to you. Just remember to pay it forward.
Since writing this article we’ve learned that the Gardener Street cafe is to close. The Real Junk Food Project put out this statement:
“It is with great regret that the directors of @realjunkfoodbrighton have decided to discontinue their lease for the cafe on Gardner Street and, as a consequence, the Gardener will close on 25th September 2023. When we first signed up to take on a city-centre cafe using the pay-as-you-feel model, we knew there were going to be many challenges. We could not have foreseen the imminent Covid-19 pandemic, but we managed to weather the associated lockdowns and have continued to provide much needed meals to thousands in our community over the three years since.
Sadly, the current economic crisis is putting extra strain on the food industry and this, combined with soaring energy bills and ongoing building maintenance works, mean that the costs are just too heavy for us to keep the Gardener open. The latter is also taking its toll on our staff and volunteers in a way that is simply not sustainable. Whilst the doors of the Gardener are closing, the mission of The Real Junk Food Project continues and we are optimistic for the future. Our customers in Hollingdean Community Centre, St Luke’s Prestonville and the Fitzherbert Hub in Kemptown will still be able to benefit from pay-as-you-feel lunches created by our wonderful teams.
We hope that by unburdening ourselves from the financial liabilities of the Gardener, we will be able to focus precious resources and energy into our existing venues and commitments.
A massive thank you to all staff, volunteers and everyone who has been involved in our lovely cafe. And thank you Infinity Foods Co-operative for being a supportive landlord.
Flower pot? Flower? Get it? Oh, suit yourself. Gilly Smith talks to Jasmine, the new florist on the Dials
There’s a new florist on the Dials. After 27 years, local legend, Ian Graham hung up his pinking shears at Christmas and handed his business over to Shereen.
Locals will recognise Shereen Druose from her occasional stints at Jasmine Healthfood, Shop which her husband, Phooad, has been running for 17 years since the family moved to the UK from Syria. But it was the occasional stints at Ian’s that has led to something of an epiphany for this mother of three. “I’d been volunteering for Ian, helping him out, you know?” she tells me as she stores the end of Friday flowers at the back of her husband’s shop as Ian had done for so many years. “And then I started to become interested in the flowers, the colours, learning the Latin names and things like that.” So it seemed a no-brainer for Ian to ask Shereen if she’d like to buy his business when he decided after his cancer diagnosis to retire.
“I didn’t want to,” Shereen laughs. “I’m a mum of 17, 13 and 10-year-old kids and I didn’t want a big responsibility of running a business. And then there’s my language…” It was Phooad who spotted the opportunity, not just to build her confidence, but also to expand the Jasmine empire. He looked for help online and quickly found The Sussex Flower School, just half an hour down the road in East Hoathly, enrolled Shereen, and life quickly took a more fragrant turn.
Shereen is rapturous about Georgia Miles, director of the flower school, and who, in full disclosure, happens to be a close friend of The Whistler. We know how persuasive she can be, but for Shereen, her eight-week career course in floristry was a game-changer. “I was so worried because my English is not so good,” she says. “But Georgia was just so nice. She was so motivating and inspiring. She was practical but also warm, and I made so many friends. I kept apologising for my language, and she just …” She whisks her hand in the smiley dismissive way I recognise. “She’d say ‘oh you’ll be fine!’”
And she was. Over the eight weeks, she learned all that she needed to know to run a floristry business, from tax to waste to where to buy the best flowers. And there was tea and cake. Plenty of tea and cake. “I still ask her now for advice, and she’s so lovely.”
Six months in at Jasmine Florist, which she now runs with Nikki Vincent, and Shereen has got through Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day and is still standing. She’s even managing the kids after-school clubs.
Her family are all still in Syria, most in Damascus and some in Latakia in the North. She says that although they’re safe now, the war has left a miserable economic situation.
Her story fills them with joy; “They follow me on Instagram!”, she says, beaming. And as she tells me how she’s able to send them money herself now, she wells up. “Even when I send them £100, it makes a lot of difference to them. So that’s really wonderful. Yeah.”
Mention the name Wolfox among the chattering classes of West Hill and Seven Dials and a hush descends. Who are these people? Aren’t they something to do with the Mafia? Brighton is no stranger to property tycoons with interesting connections, but Wolfox, according to those who’ve heard the rumours – or maybe that should be “those who spread the rumours” – is like some kind of hungry animal stalking the streets by night, sneaking into empty shops and restaurants whose throats were ripped out in Lockdown, settling in and serving up the city’s best cup of coffee to an unsuspecting passer-by. I could stretch the metaphor and suggest that Fabio Lauro, sporting a fetching apron in the kitchen of his latest opening, Fumi in Circus Street does have some pretty big teeth, but hey, this is just a fairy tale. Isn’t it?
“Sorry about the heavy breathing,” Lauro – Mr Wolfox – pants, “but I’ve just been running.” I daren’t ask from what. We’re here to talk about Fumi after a stunning meal the weekend before. I’d met him in the kitchen, sous cheffing to Reuben Waller who’s “been around” but cut his teeth with the legendary Nico Ladenis at Chez Nico back in the day. “Yeah, Gavroche too”, he tells me. He had taken me on the “culinary adventure” offered on the Carte Blanche, an opportunity to see what Fumi is all about, a trail through the aubergine and enoki mushroom tempura, tuna and salmon nigiri staples, and a silky belly pork in red wine and soy sauce. It turns out that the signature design-led fine dining experience is very fine indeed, although they could get their Wagyu from Trenchmore for better local creds. Still, they do have their own hydroponic farm.
Lauro’s breathing has calmed now and he’s very happy to tell me about the rise and rise of Wolfox. “The main expansion happened during Lockdown when quite a few landlords asked us to take some of the properties which tenants had left. So we took over one in Kemptown, then one in Prestonville. Our desire was never to expand everywhere but to be present within the communities. We weren’t even paying rent. They were just given to us. That was the thing”. I try to dismiss the image of Marlon Brando purring into my phone and replace it with one of Brighton’s biggest employers swooping in to sort out a crisis. Damn; same thing.
Fumi is the elegant big sister of Kusaki, the brightly-coloured Asian plant kitchen in Preston Circus which has cleverly scooped up the vegan pound and raised the game in town. Fumi, all gold leaf walls, massive doors and Insta-happy coffee grind table tops, reused and crafted in Lewes from the many Wolfox café leftovers, takes design to a new level; Lauro, the Studio Six designer who began in Milan, leaves his pawprint on all his restaurants and cafes. This one, though, is dedicated to the memory of his brother, Andrea, who died in a tragic accident two years ago. “It’s definitely not another Wolfox. It’s just Fumi”, he says.
Leading the Circus Street development, although it didn’t really mean to, Fumi is already luring locals in for an Italian coffee and pastry in the morning before dimming the light sculptures by evening for a full-on Japanese fine dining experience. “They were really struggling because it was so big. They wanted the best coffee in town, so they asked us what we could do. But restaurants are our main business, and we wanted to get back to that.”
Circus Street got more than its coffee; the massive glass rectangular building, screened Japanese-style, sits stylishly next to Grand Parade, and brings a little Zen to the area. “We’re doing slow-minded coffee in the morning, and bento boxes for lunch.” I ask about his connection to Japan and he laughs. “I’m from Lake Como. I’m not going to open a pizza restaurant, am I? I love Japanese food; it’s clean for your body if it’s done very well. You have to have balance in life.”
l Fumi Restaurant, 1 Circus St, BN2 9AS 01273 064516
There’s a real buzz in the bird world this month as a whole new community heads down to the beach. And as every scavenger knows, where there’s a day out at the beach, there’s a delicious trail of leftovers for the more discerning birds.
Your Gull has already spotted the tasty treats the Salty Sea Birds, those cold water swimmers we share a nod with in all weathers, have in the pockets of their Dry Robes. So it was with beak open, she flew to check out the chow at Brighton’s new Sea Lanes down at Black Rock (see below).
Sadly, the healthy breakfast bars were not quite what your Gull would call rich pickings, but a hop onto a thermal to follow some likely ladies over to the Bison Bar did the trick. As the BBQ fired and the sun set, the variations on a humble burger dazzled your Gull.
It’s a theme along the beach. From Kemptown’s growing food scene to Lucky Beach and down to Rockwater in Hove, the competition is more about how to fake your meat than luring the locals.
Holding court right in the centre of Brighton’s beachfront, Lucky Beach Cafe (pictured) is rated in the top 20 sustainable businesses in the UK with the highest rating by the Sustainable Restaurant Association. But it’s not all about pea protein; after years of picking at its delicious vegan burger, your Gull was delighted to find its new fresh crab and nduja tostadas with lobster aioli popping out of the bin bags after a busy night on the beach.
But the Gull has always been about the best ingredients, vegan or regeneratively farmed, and so was rather thrilled to find Salt Shed bringing brisket all the way from Brick Lane to North Laine. Flying back to West Hill as the sun set, the smell of salt beef wafting up from Church Street was enough to give your bird a lift onto the final thermal home.
Everything you ever wanted to know about life in Brighton (OK, and Hove)
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