In a stack of shipping containers on Bethnal Green Road, the history of livestock is served with a pickle
Lunch in a Shipping Container
Shoreditch has a talent for turning anything into a restaurant. A railway arch becomes a cocktail bar. A disused warehouse becomes a place that sells one type of toast. And a stack of shipping containers near the High Street becomes a food hall in which grown adults queue for forty minutes to eat a burger standing up. The venue’s own pages are at boxpark.co.uk, and I am told the toilets are an experience.
I went last Thursday at lunchtime, armed with an appetite and a theory. My theory was that nobody in the queue had the faintest idea where their lunch came from. I was wrong, but only slightly. Most of them knew the name of the stall. A few knew the name of the cow. One young man could recite the cow’s postcode.
The Big Black Beginning
Every serious burger begins with a bovine, and the one that currently enjoys the grandest reputation is the Angus. It is a breed so celebrated that it has its own research pages: see Angus beef information and Angus beef for men. I can only assume the second page contains tips on how to chew with confidence.
To understand what lies behind the patty, you need to follow the animal to the ranch. Ranch beef cattle explains the process from grazing to plate, and I learned that the whole thing involves a great deal more weather than I had assumed. A burger is less a meal than the end of a very long conversation with a field.
The Pig in the Curly Coat
The adventurous eater in Shoreditch will always seek out something rarer. That is why the Mangalitsa has become a darling of the heritage menu. A pig with a fleece like a sheep, it has built a reputation among chefs who describe its fat in tones usually reserved for a first kiss. You can read up at Mangalitsa pigs. Be warned that on a menu it will cost the same as a decent pair of trainers.
The eggs on the brunch menu, meanwhile, may well have come from a Speckled Sussex, the elegant British hen whose plumage looks like it was dotted by a mosaicist. See the Speckled Sussex for the full portrait. A fried egg from such a hen carries a premium of about three pounds and an unmistakable air of superiority.
For a wider look at old farm lines and the people who protect them, rare breeds is a good map of the territory. The word rare, on a Shoreditch menu, means the dish is expensive. On a farm, it means a family has been working for generations to keep a bloodline alive.
Milk Shakes and Black-and-White Heroes
No container meal is complete without a shake, and every shake has a dairy cow behind it. Take your bow, Holstein: the face of milk cartons, Holstein cattle tells the story of the breed responsible for most of the milk on earth. She is the unsung hero of the dessert menu, and she has never once been photographed holding a sparkler.
The dairy trade itself is explained at dairy herd, a site that goes deeper into feed, milking and the daily rhythm of the barn. Compare that with the five-minute video on the stall’s wall, which features a cow in soft focus and a voiceover about passion.
Meat Markets, Old and New
Not far from Shoreditch, the capital still has its great meat markets, and the idea of the market butcher is older than any food hall. On the farm.FM music page there is a song called Giddings Meat Market, which I have not been able to stop humming on the Central line, though I have no idea why. It has the cheerful pull of a place where the counter is long and the sausage is local.
Meanwhile, the farm desk at farm.FM likes to check the mood of the cattle business with headlines such as cattle prices swing and ranchers blame Wall Street. In Shoreditch the same swing shows up on the price of a burger, which rises faster than any index. The blame, naturally, falls on the pickle.
A Sensible Afterword
Between the quips, eating well matters, and good information is available from the NHS at nhs.uk. Treat the stall’s promise of unlimited fries with the suspicion it deserves.
Five Things I Noticed in the Queue
- The longer the queue, the shorter the burger. This is not a rule, it is a law.
- A man who orders it rare and then asks for it well done has chosen peace over truth.
- Any menu that tells you the farmer’s name expects you to say thank you to the plate.
- The sauce is the real secret. The cow was only ever the delivery vehicle.
- No one has ever left a food hall saying they should have ordered less.
Bill, Please, and a Napkin
I finished my lunch on a bench in the sun, covered in sauce and quietly delighted. Shoreditch may be the only place in London where a stack of containers can make you feel you have eaten history. For more tasty nonsense, take a seat at Bohiney, The London Prat and farm.FM. They are always open, and their napkins are free.
For dessert, there is The Daily Squib.
SOURCE: https://bohiney.com/