Haggerston, that in-between place I call home: Part II

Having dusted off some of Haggerston's uglier socioeconomic realities in Part I, I proceed to shove 'em back in the attic, having no immediate solution as to what to do about them. Apologies if that sounds disappointing! For now, I can only urge you onto happier thoughts.

Onto the good news...

Haggerston Park in the distance

The flipside of living in Haggerston is that there is much to gratify urban lifestyle junkies like M & I. We live a stone's throw away from Haggerston Park, a massive green space with sports grounds that's beautifully tended to. We once met a park ranger who indefatigably waxed on about the park's history as a former gasworks and the location of a fleeting scene in Odd Man Out (1947) starring James Mason. In between polite nods of the head, we complimented him on his contribution to the park's landscaping: a prim English rose garden in its corner versus defined patches given permission to run 'wild'.

Having suffered an unbearably long winter in 2013 (it was still snowing in April, as I recall), M & I milked every last drop of what ended up to be a deservedly decent summer in this neighbourhood oasis. We attracted stares of bemusement as we practised qigong (every day) and realised my 15-year-old dream of learning to skateboard :-). But we didn't care. Those dog days were an absolute godsend for, er, getting one's skate's on.

And not just for us. We spotted groups of women wearing hijabs and trainers warming up their joints, newly qualified personal trainers making a hash out of pad work (dear I say, they were always Barbie doll-like females), couples training each other, the odd lone tai chi enthusiast and a heavily pregnant Chinese woman power walking.

The park's multiple points of interest are astounding given that the surrounding area was, until recently, a veritable inner city pocket of London. Yet it comes with a mini-BMX track and abuts Hackney City Farm, a community educational project bringing the delights of farming to urban dwellers. All those city slickers less than 2 miles away in the financial district could do with some slowing the f--- down to smell some fresh manure!

Our little one-bed rental flat overlooks Regent's Canal, which runs from the luscious Victoria Park in the East through to Camden Town via King's Cross to the north. Our perfect vantage point gives us the opportunity to gawk and chuckle at the daily gaggle of people who run and cycle along the canal. Unfortunately, we also occasionally bear witness to some pretty nasty cat fights between youths loitering around the estate across the canal. Such events serve to remind us that Haggerston isn't all roses.

...Which you can buy at Broadway Market in London Fields. Although the street of the market is called Broadway Market, the market only runs on Saturdays. On all other days, the strip is a destination in itself thanks to its quirky cafes and boutiques. But on Market Day, it transforms into a paradise for serious foodies, people who like to buy fresh produce and handmade foodstuffs, as well as for book lovers and craftspeople. Unlike the greater and larger tourist magnet Borough Market, Broadway Market still feels quaint and village-like, a destination aimed at locals. A destination where masters of the ukulele don't seem out of place.

The Market also doubles as a veritable street parade of the current 'East End' fashions. As of this writing: studded motorcycle jackets, overpriced carpet bag vintage jerseys, tweed, cordoroy, velvet and some sort of hipster haircut… sometimes all worn on the same person. In other words, the more pretentiously homespun, mismatched and 'ironic', the better one looks. (Looking ironic has been around for, like, a decade. How is it still considered a trend? It's more like a quirk. Like having red hair.) Pace the haters, though, London Fields, and especially Haggerston, would be so much duller without this sort of street invasion. There would also be a lot less for curmudgeons to rant about.

Cafe snobbery

When the market isn't running, M & I like to while away our time sipping the cream of London's cappuccinos at the French (or is it Italian) deli-cafe, La Bouche. It's the place to watch all the boys and girls of London Fields go by. Either you sit outside on its cast iron furniture (so heavy, no one can steal it), or you peer out of the cafe's large street-facing windows if you're lucky enough to find a seat. One quickly notices that despite the diversity of the surrounding area, the people who frequent Broadway Market tend to be white, middle-class/affluent. If you're not white, you are likely to be a foreign student with some means or well-educated, greased enough or just plain progressive (stupid) to ditch the corporate day job for a shot as an artist.

But people watching only gives you one dimension of the area's quintessence. What's more telling can be in certain blithe utterances. I recently overheard a trendy mum asking her sartorially dashing 2-year-old daughter, “Would you like a pan au chocolate?” Another conversation that kept me from attending to my reading was a yoga therapist lecturing her client on the technicalities of postural alignment. Maybe because her client spoke with an Italian-sounding accent that she felt she needed to crank up her own volume and over enunciate.

Unfortunately, a seat at La Bouche is never guaranteed, even on a Tuesday morning. Whenever M & I fare badly in this regard, our second choice is normally Gossip. The tiny cafe reminds me of the living room of my old flat share in South London (Camberwell), painted in bright colours signalling the proprietor's obvious love of all things spiritual and creative. The cafe's main draw is its impressive assortment of loose leaf teas displayed in glass jars on the wall. While I was detoxing and having to avoid caffeine, I relied on Gossip to give me a break with its Soho Spice and Rooibos teas.

Once I broke the caffeine fast, we followed the strong coffee scent across the strip to Climpson and Sons. Much more than just a cafe, CS is London Fields' answer to All Press, the (New Zealand) coffee roaster that made its name in Shoreditch. The space itself is a bit too cosy for comfort. Initially, M & I held off becoming regulars until more seating was installed. Otherwise it was just an espresso bar/takeaway; M & I aren't the types to drink our coffees the Italian way! Also, coffee in paper cups??

Thankfully the interior was made more settler-friendly in the last quarter of 2013. I now sit with my back against the wall on one of the shallow wooden benches elbowing M as I type this post up. It's a bit like sitting in a sauna without the heat. I need to wear my acrylic fingerless gloves. Not the ideal place to write, then. The cafe's acoustics are poor too. But a visit is well worth all the discomfort and multiple distractions that a tiny, noisy place promises. The coffee is truly a beautiful thing. And being forced into such close quarters with other customers, I have found it easier to start conversations with them. Today, I met an imposing figure in his forties who was devouring (with a disconcerting hint of sensuality) yogurt and granola in a generous paper cup. There was no need for him to sell it in the way he did. That bit of humble breakfast sold itself. The man's shades, mohawk, motorcycle jacket and killer leather boots made it hard for me not to stare at him. He told me to drop by The Outsider Motorcycle Club on Mare Street in Hackney Central, which he owns. It figures.

From C&S, it's just steps away from Broadway Bookshop. I admit M & I hardly ever venture into this charming little shop lest we succumb to its multiple temptations. (I know that as a book lover with a bit of a conscience, I really ought to support small independents rather than undercutting their efforts as a Amazon Prime customer.) But I do occasionally relent and cross the threshold of Artwords bookshop next door. Not doing so would take about as much self-control as Carrie Bradshaw snubbing a Manolo Blahnik window display. With its amazing selection of beautifully-bound photography, design, fashion and all that, Artwords is always a welcome escape from the drudgery of the artless quotidian. As with my policy towards Broadway Bookshop, I have to ration my visits.

Bite-sized London Fields

Before I decided I had to go gluten-free (for dietary rather than modish reasons), M and I hung out nearly every weekend for a month at E5 Bakehouse. This bakery – nay, mini-factory – is one of the many newish businesses tucked inside the arches of the railway track that runs from Liverpool Street to some place in Essex (Braintree?). It makes the best sourdough breads ever! Our appreciation for the bread ballooned after a particularly enthusiastic TV tutorial given by Paul Hollywood on how to bake one at home. Which we haven't got around to, typically. That's one of M's goals for 2014. I even got him Paul Hollywood's Bread book for his birthday. Pity I'm now gluten intolerant. Maybe its a result of eating too much of that sourdough.

And Dalston

For the cafe lover, Haggerston's proximity to Dalston is rather convenient. Near Dalston Lane (the road of the mural of the Hackney Peace Parade) is Cafe Oto. Hip doesn't even begin to describe it, but it has all the right elements to make it so. Run by a Japanese-British couple, the cafe looks every bit like the garage it probably once was. Its scruffy minimalism (read: minimally renovated) however makes the space functionally flexible, serving also as a venue for music performances by emerging left-field musicians, film screenings and community art workshops. Activities M & I still need to experience. The staff are often a little dopey if downright absentminded. I guess this insouciance is something one should expect of such places. The coffees served are not bad (not overwhelming either) and the Japanese sencha tea is almost worth the £4 a pot if you plan to massively overstay.

I liked going to Cafe Oto because I never had to struggle to get a good table just after it opens, around 9am, early in the week. The place would largely be mine. Of course, I could just stay at home, which is also mine after 9am. But at Cafe Oto I got the additional gift of imbibing the pleasant odour of fresh coffee, which I find hard to replicate with our Bialetti coffee maker. 

Why the past tense? Cafe Oto was a regular haunt until I discovered something way better: L'Atelier north of Dalston Kingsland station and the Rio cinema. As it serves the cheapest coffees (price not quality) in the area (£2.20 for a very good flat white circa 2013/14) I am always in danger of ordering more cups than my body allows. Luckily, I've managed to show an impressive amount of restraint when it comes to the cafe's impressive selection of homemade (but sadly, gluten) temptations. L'Atelier also scores highly for closing far later than most other cafes (10.30pm) thereby offering M a place to chill after work (we don't do pubs). Now that I wake up around 6am, I can usually get to the cafe around opening time (at 9am). Which means I can normally find myself a spot next to the window, and count any amount of light streaming in as part of my daily Vitamin D intake. The interiors are pretty typical of this kind of joint: a hodgepodge of 'vintage' and recycled furniture (think 1960s formica tables), banquettes and enough amount of shadow to warrant some candles. I confess I still find such arrangements inspiring.

On the days when I get cabin fever from cooking lunch every day, M & I some times head to Route. This restaurant opened early in 2013 in Dalston Square, the newish residential complex and poster child for Dalston's controversial gentrification. (Two- and three-bedroom flats went for a minimum of £400,000 in early 2013, and the much-loved Dalston Eastern Curve Garden is faced with the wrecking ball.) We always go for a selection of three Ottolenghi-style hot Middle Eastern and Mediterranean salads, and a side of freshly baked bread, to share for £11.50. I would stay well away from the coffee though.

Good vibrations

Until 2013, Haggerston was considered a geographical interregnum between Shoreditch and Dalston. Marked by a particularly ugly chunk of Kingsland Road, its relative drabness in the eyes of those wanting for entertainment and watering holes made it a largely forgotten slice of Hackney. Since Haggerston was one of the last areas in the borough to be descended upon by visionaries and creatives, its hidden stock of warehouses along Regent's Canal stood idle for years despite their relative affordability. Inevitably, the tide is now turning. Projects and collectives have moved in to supply the area with a good dose of the arts, sport, yoga and coffee. The Dalstonist, a local publication, recently promoted TripSpace (theatre, dance), Proud Archivist (yoga studio, art gallery and events) and Curio Cabal (coffee!). I'm proud to say that I haven't been to any of these places yet. It's nice to know Haggerston has yet to reach saturation point.

Even without these new spaces, though, Haggerston has had a creative vibe for as long as M & I set up home here. Maybe it was just a result of a creative osmosis emanating from Shoreditch and Dalston. Wherever it's coming from, though, it has done the artist and coffee lover in both of us a world of good. Home sweet home!