Easter Egg Hunt

The early part of Easter Saturday was a fucking nightmare. (The evening wasn't, because we went to see Steeleye Span and they rocked, but the daytime was a bit of a shitter and no mistake.)

We must've been into 20 shops in various parts of South London, looking for Easter Eggs to give to various family members. Spent about three hours solid, so we did.

There's nothing for you here!

Nothing. Absolutely fuck-all available anywhere. (Except for Cadbury Creme Eggs and bags of mini eggs). From the tiniest local shops to the big Sainsburys and Safeways (I refuse to call them Morrisons for the same reason that I refuse to call a Marathon bar anything other than a Marathon bar!) there was not a single proper egg available to purchase.

The shelves were bare, apart from the occasional solitary badly broken egg in Tesco with the cracked chocolate exposed to the elements that staff had inexplicably failed to remove, perhaps deliberately leaving it there to taunt people like me.

The twats in the shops said things like. 'Ooh, you should've come earlier', which as well as being singularly unhelpful is also indicative of the widespread acquiescence of a flawed culture.

January's Ale

I don’t think I’ve ever actually bought anything in a January Sale, and the ridiculous length of the queues at Westfield Stratford ensured that this record continued for another happy new year.

God knows why, in the Internet Age, so many people still find pleasure in the physical act of shopping – which in this case appeared to involve standing in a spiralling line that threatened to suffocate the very lungs and bowels of Primark customers – but apparently they do, and for some reason I offered to take Mrs B-V there last week.

The ‘some reason’, in truth, was the Tap East Brewpub which may very well be the only good thing about Westfield, and certainly one of the least crowded. At one point we were the only people in there, quietly drinking beer and playing beer top trumps whilst everybody in Primark was presumably still queuing.

Having spent the afternoon watching Coventry valiantly losing to West Ham, where the pies and sausage rolls leave a horrible margariney taste in the mouth, and the post-match experience involves a mile-long queue to get into Upton Park station, a cursory window shop was enough, but several pints were definitely on the agenda.

Ale, man, Ale's the stuff!

Run by the bods who own The Rake and Utobeer in Borough Market, Tap East is an American-style brewpub in look and feel, though they don’t do a full food menu or table service like you'd typically find in the States. Eats are restricted to plates of salady stuff from the chiller cabinet, which didn't appeal, and bowls of nuts from big jars, which did!

In US brewpub style, the brewery itself is visible behind glass, and as well as their own beers they offer a couple of guests at any given time. With six handpumps, there’s twice as many real ales on offer than at The Rake, although to be fair these premises are a lot larger, and conveniently located right by the entrance opposite Stratford International station, so you don’t even need to see any shops!

Their 5.2% IPA was the undoubted highlight – refreshing, hoppy and moreish, but I also tried their slightly fruity stout and the ordinary bitter (John Edwin, 3.8%) which was a bit thin and  underwhelming compared to the IPA. A Winter Warmer was coming soon, to replace the stout, and next time I’m in that part of East London I’ll have to try it if it’s still on.

I also found time for the only other beer on that I needed - a strong and malty bitter from the new Brecon brewery which really wasn’t my thing, but it made for a decent and varied range.

So if you go to Westfield, forget the stupid shopping and just go and drink beer.

Where to find it...

Tap East

Lower Ground Floor,

Westfield Stratford City

London
E20 1EJ (map)
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