I’ve always been a north London girl. I moved to Kentish Town after university, and I bought my first flat in Gospel Oak with my sister. (I loved that flat). My sister still lives in NW5 and, when I came back from New York, I ended up in Camden when friends offered me their basement on Albert Street as a temporary respite. I loved that part of Camden so much that when they moved on, I moved 100 yards away.
That being said, I seem to be so frantic with work and stuff that I spend much of my time here either inside the office or jumping in car/cab or on bike/tube/bus out of here. So when I walked home through Camden Lock Market from a gig at the Roundhouse the other night I realised how much I missed not regularly engaging with what lay north of me.
The problem is that much of Camden High Street and Chalk Farm Road are besieged by grim hordes of sheep-like tourists by day and giggling, platform wearing, knicker flashing, pint glass clutching girls in the evening.
However, by avoiding the afore mentioned streets almost completely, and cutting first west off Camden High Street through Inverness Street Market, then north onto Arlington Road, and across Jamestown Road to the Lock, you miss the hordes and get to cross the Regent’s Canal on the lovely pedestrian bridge, with its view of the old warehouses and stables to the west and the Lock to the east.
That brings you straight into the West Yard of Camden Lock Market, where you will find the Global Food Kitchen — many, many glorious food stalls, plus Café Chula, which does good Mexican, and then a series of fairly new and excellent food outlets, including my beloved French & Grace, Chin Chin Labs and Mighty Fine Fudge & Chocolate (check out their Shrek green Mojito fudge).
On Friday afternoon, after checking out of The Goring, and pontificating on the Dior show as part of Nick Knight’s SHOWstudio livestream panel, I realised I still hadn’t eaten by 4pm, so I purposely strode off north once I arrived home, (instead of buying avocado sushi in Whole Foods as is my wont when starving and lacking imagination), and took a seat at the narrow bar in Honest Burger, newly arrived from south of these parts and ordered a cauliflower fritter burger.
It was good, more of a great texture thing than an essay in deliciousness — but the fixings were epic. Chipotle mayo in particular deserved a mention in dispatches, and the rosemary salted chips were the right side of perfection. And I do like a stripey straw in my housemade lemonade. Oh and lovely, chirpy service. I shall be back.