Over the summer, I saw 'coming soon' signs for a new place to eat on Smithdown Road, near Dafna's Cheesecake Factory, that I thought might offer something a little different from the usual takeaway sandwich shop. Namely, bagels. Called 'Bagelicious', it promised bagels, paninis, the usual variety of coffee drinks, etc.
I should have realised the sign above their door announcing said "bagel's" was a warning to be heeded.
Now, I'm probably a little luckier than most Americans who didn't grow up in the New York metropolitan area, because I was familiar with bagels from an early age. Every Saturday after ballet lessons (which I enjoyed despite my total lack of grace or rhythm) we would go to Bageland, the bagel bakery in Murray Hill, one of Pittsburgh's Jewish neighborhoods. Strictly takeout, there were 6, maybe 8, flavors of bagels. Plain, sesame seed, onion, poppy seed. Cinnamon raisin was the only sweetened variety available (and I've debated with another baking friend whether or not it counts as a 'proper' bagel flavour; she says no). They were fresh from the oven and exactly what a bagel should be; chewy inside with a perfectly thin, shiny crust on the outside. I don't even feel right calling it a crust, because that implies a flaky crumbliness that it doesn't have; it's more like a skin, because of boiling the bagel dough briefly before baking them, which seals it.
This was long before the chains of Bruegger's and Einstein Bros came along to introduce bagels to middle America. Before flavors like asiago cheese and blueberry were sat along side the plain and the cinnamon raisin. Though Bageland is sadly long gone, I was lucky enough to live in New York for a few months after graduating and experience some gorgeous (and frankly, enormous) bagels and shmears from Ess-a-Bagel. So I admit, my standards are probably unfairly high.
That said, if you're going to make bagels a cornerstone of your brand, then for the love of cream cheese, the least you can do is sell actual bagels. Not barms/baps/sandwich buns with a hole poked in the middle. That is what we were served yesterday, with a fairly average choice of catering pack sandwich fillings available. And since they were still packaged in the wrap of the wholesale bakery from whence they came, I now know exactly which company to thank for making a product that was far less authentic and palatable than the Tesco brand bagel I had for my breakfast that morning. Cheers for making decidedly average supermarket bagels look downright appealing.
Still, I can see it doing well among students who can't be bothered to walk to Oomoo. The exposed brick walls, wooden tables and brown leather seats are attractive enough, and free wi-fi is meant to be available, though we didn't test it out.
I'm as disappointed in the lowest-common-denominator approach to food and the wasted chance to stand out and provide something not widely available in this city as much as the mis-selling of their key product. If you do bother going to Bagelicious, save yourself the letdown and skip the bagels.
About Me
- Rachel
- Blogger, baker, museum-goer and art lover. Not from around here. Likes: photography, single malt whisky and good writing. Dislikes: apostrophe abuse, blue cheese, and people who litter.
Saturday, 4 September 2010
Thursday, 1 July 2010
Social Media Cafe Liverpool
The first SMCLiverpool was held at Static Gallery last night. Quite a few people turned up to hear presentations from people working in different areas of social media. It was nice to see a couple of familiar faces and chat with new ones. Topics of discussion included data visualisation and storytelling from a journalistic perspective, 'how to win Foursquare friends and influence people' by Josh, aka @technicalfault, and a sort of history of social media by a longtime user, Dave Coveney, who reminded everyone to have fun and remember the person at the other end of a conversation/thread/flamewar is actually a person too. He also said 'don't be anonymous', which I'm not sure I totally agree with because I think there are situations where anonymity is a good thing. I saw what he was getting at though and I respect his viewpoint.
There are some recaps by Alison Gow and Mike Nolan on their respective blogs, as well as links to Dave Coveney's and Alison's presentations on the SMC Liverpool's blog.
In a much less visually appealing way than Alison used her data, here's a randomly chosen selection of numbers about the evening:
30+: Attendees
19: The number of words I got on my social media bingo.
15: Different platforms used by those Twittering during and after the event.
2: Number of Threadless t-shirts spotted.
1: iPad I got to try out for the first time.
Looking forward to the next one!
There are some recaps by Alison Gow and Mike Nolan on their respective blogs, as well as links to Dave Coveney's and Alison's presentations on the SMC Liverpool's blog.
In a much less visually appealing way than Alison used her data, here's a randomly chosen selection of numbers about the evening:
30+: Attendees
19: The number of words I got on my social media bingo.
15: Different platforms used by those Twittering during and after the event.
2: Number of Threadless t-shirts spotted.
1: iPad I got to try out for the first time.
Looking forward to the next one!
Friday, 25 June 2010
in brief
A round up of noteworthy exhibitions and events of late:
At the end of May when meeting up with a friend in London, we went to the National Portrait Gallery for the Irving Penn: Portraits exhibition. A show like that reaffirms my belief that life looks better in black and white. Penn’s prolific output and lengthy career meant he photographed a pretty good cross section of celebrity in the second half of the 20th century. Though his work was most widely viewed in magazines like Vogue and Vanity Fair, seeing actual prints make his photos all the more compelling. A similar exhibition of celebrity and fashion portraits by Cecil Beaton at the Walker last year, which left me underwhelmed, felt even more superficial compared to this. Beaton seemed content to photograph surfaces, whereas in Penn's words:
what lies behind the facade is rare and more wonderful than the subject knows or dares to believe
A contact sheet of a session with novelist Ivy Compton-Burnett exemplifies his efforts to get behind the facade. Each negative shows a slightly different aspect of someone who looks like a character Judi Dench would get an Oscar nomination for playing, and yet none of them became the final print. Penn photographed many of his subjects in a studio environment that could be described as stripped down at best. It wasn't designed to make the sitter comfortable, but it seems to have brought something interesting out of each person.
After much experimentation Penn settled on silver gelatin as his print of choice and it gives an undeniably 19th century quality to photographs of stars like Al Pacino. Wide-eyed and alomst haunted-looking, it’s one of the best photographs of him I’ve ever seen and it was possibly my favourite of the exhibition. Not even because I’m a particular fan of his, I’m not, but Penn’s ability to elicit and capture that expression at that moment encapsulate the photographer's talent and technique.
Shooting under rather different conditions, but no less a master of creating memorable images, the Don McCullin retrospective Shaped by War at the Imperial War Museum North was an extremely moving experience in a museum than can’t fail to move you to sorrow, outrage, grief, or all of the above. McCullin made his name as a war photographer in the 1960’s and 1970’s for the Sunday Times Magazine, covering conflicts in Vietnam and Cambodia, among others. He was actually shot in Cambodia and the camera that caught the bullet was displayed alongside photos he took from the back of the truck taking the wounded to safety. Possibly because images of the Vietnam War are already indelible in American consciousness, and I had a greater familiarity with the historical context, I actually found the most difficult images were of the Biafran famine. In particular, one of an albino boy. He was already an outcast for the colour of his skin, and the suffering on his face was indescribable. He stood, with other children behind him at a distance, holding an empty tin can. I admire McCuillan for bearing witness to these events, but I can’t imagine putting up the psychological barriers he had to erect to be able to do that job without going to pieces. The exhibition is travelling to the IWM in London next autumn, and it is very much worth seeing.
After taking that in as well as the main part of the museum, we needed a bit of something lighter. Luckily the Lowry is just across Salford Quays and the Spencer Tunick exhibition had just opened. And yes, there are naked people visible if you click on that link, FYI.
My main reason for going was that a friend had taken part in its creation and I wanted to see if I could spot her. There are about a dozen photographs and a film of the shoot taking place across Salford and Manchester. Tunick said he wanted to respond to LS Lowry’s work and in the choice of location on Dantzic Street and the position of the participants, I could kind of see what he was getting at. Other pictures are, in fact, large groups of naked people, albeit artfully arranged ones. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, and given that it was bloody cold on the morning of the shoot, I take my hat off to the people willing to strip off and pose. I couldn’t spot my friend, but she did manage to find herself in at least one of the pictures and told me where to look for her if I do go back and see it again.
Liverpool stuff:
Check out www.sevenstreets.com, my new favourite site about Liverpool goings on. Well written and offbeat.
Coming up on June 30 is the first Social Media Cafe at Static Gallery. It's free and you can register here.
I’m on the way home from two lovely days at Wimbledon. Saw some great tennis, drank more Pimms than I ever have before (thank God it’s diluted with lemonade or I would have been hammered in the heat on Friday) and had a generally very good time.
Ok, maybe that wasn't so brief. That's what Twitter's for anyway.
High Violet is rapidly becoming my album of the summer. Go have a listen.
At the end of May when meeting up with a friend in London, we went to the National Portrait Gallery for the Irving Penn: Portraits exhibition. A show like that reaffirms my belief that life looks better in black and white. Penn’s prolific output and lengthy career meant he photographed a pretty good cross section of celebrity in the second half of the 20th century. Though his work was most widely viewed in magazines like Vogue and Vanity Fair, seeing actual prints make his photos all the more compelling. A similar exhibition of celebrity and fashion portraits by Cecil Beaton at the Walker last year, which left me underwhelmed, felt even more superficial compared to this. Beaton seemed content to photograph surfaces, whereas in Penn's words:
what lies behind the facade is rare and more wonderful than the subject knows or dares to believe
A contact sheet of a session with novelist Ivy Compton-Burnett exemplifies his efforts to get behind the facade. Each negative shows a slightly different aspect of someone who looks like a character Judi Dench would get an Oscar nomination for playing, and yet none of them became the final print. Penn photographed many of his subjects in a studio environment that could be described as stripped down at best. It wasn't designed to make the sitter comfortable, but it seems to have brought something interesting out of each person.
After much experimentation Penn settled on silver gelatin as his print of choice and it gives an undeniably 19th century quality to photographs of stars like Al Pacino. Wide-eyed and alomst haunted-looking, it’s one of the best photographs of him I’ve ever seen and it was possibly my favourite of the exhibition. Not even because I’m a particular fan of his, I’m not, but Penn’s ability to elicit and capture that expression at that moment encapsulate the photographer's talent and technique.
Shooting under rather different conditions, but no less a master of creating memorable images, the Don McCullin retrospective Shaped by War at the Imperial War Museum North was an extremely moving experience in a museum than can’t fail to move you to sorrow, outrage, grief, or all of the above. McCullin made his name as a war photographer in the 1960’s and 1970’s for the Sunday Times Magazine, covering conflicts in Vietnam and Cambodia, among others. He was actually shot in Cambodia and the camera that caught the bullet was displayed alongside photos he took from the back of the truck taking the wounded to safety. Possibly because images of the Vietnam War are already indelible in American consciousness, and I had a greater familiarity with the historical context, I actually found the most difficult images were of the Biafran famine. In particular, one of an albino boy. He was already an outcast for the colour of his skin, and the suffering on his face was indescribable. He stood, with other children behind him at a distance, holding an empty tin can. I admire McCuillan for bearing witness to these events, but I can’t imagine putting up the psychological barriers he had to erect to be able to do that job without going to pieces. The exhibition is travelling to the IWM in London next autumn, and it is very much worth seeing.
After taking that in as well as the main part of the museum, we needed a bit of something lighter. Luckily the Lowry is just across Salford Quays and the Spencer Tunick exhibition had just opened. And yes, there are naked people visible if you click on that link, FYI.
My main reason for going was that a friend had taken part in its creation and I wanted to see if I could spot her. There are about a dozen photographs and a film of the shoot taking place across Salford and Manchester. Tunick said he wanted to respond to LS Lowry’s work and in the choice of location on Dantzic Street and the position of the participants, I could kind of see what he was getting at. Other pictures are, in fact, large groups of naked people, albeit artfully arranged ones. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, and given that it was bloody cold on the morning of the shoot, I take my hat off to the people willing to strip off and pose. I couldn’t spot my friend, but she did manage to find herself in at least one of the pictures and told me where to look for her if I do go back and see it again.
Liverpool stuff:
Check out www.sevenstreets.com, my new favourite site about Liverpool goings on. Well written and offbeat.
Coming up on June 30 is the first Social Media Cafe at Static Gallery. It's free and you can register here.
I’m on the way home from two lovely days at Wimbledon. Saw some great tennis, drank more Pimms than I ever have before (thank God it’s diluted with lemonade or I would have been hammered in the heat on Friday) and had a generally very good time.
Ok, maybe that wasn't so brief. That's what Twitter's for anyway.
High Violet is rapidly becoming my album of the summer. Go have a listen.
Friday, 21 May 2010
Picasso: Peace and Freedom
Opening today at Tate Liverpool, "Picasso: Peace and Freedom" is a major exhibition examining Picasso's work in the post-war period, situating many of his works in a polictical context relating to his nearly 30 year membership of the Communist party.
Several column inches have already been devoted to the exhibition before it opened and what surprises it may have in store, such as the Daily Telegraph's claim of Picasso's previously unknown support for feminism and the Guardian's skepticism of the depth of his political beliefs.
Having previously written about Picasso's later career and the efforts of different photographers to depict him and how they contributed to his legacy, I was incredibly curious to see how this exhibition would re-interpret his later works, traditionally given much less attention in critical scholarship than his earlier, more groundbreaking pieces and if it would radically revise the perceptions of him as an artist.
The exhibition opens on the ground floor with a timeline of major events in Picasso's life and western history since World War II. Four screens show documentary footage of Picasso at work and news footage from different political events such as the Sheffield Peace Conference of 1950. Anticipating the work on display upstairs, it is presented in grey and white, though I thought some coloured text might have been useful to distinguish general historical events (such as the Suez Crisis) from ones Picasso was directly involved with, politically or personally.
Moving upstairs to the fourth floor, I would venture that more work by Picasso is on display than anywhere else aside from the museums dedicated to his work in France and Barecelona. It is impressively overwhelming. The Charnel House hangs in a smaller room to the left of the entrance. Though it never garnered the attention or reputation of Guernica, it remains a powerful work. If Guernica is a scream of anguish, The Charnel House is a silent post-mortem. The bodies lay twisted but quiet. I know Picasso was initially inspired by the images of a Spanish family killed during the war, but images of Holocaust victims and the way bodies were disposed of in concentration camps were all I could think of. I found the experience incredibly moving.
Still life and landscape paintings dominate the first room, with a couple of sculptures and portraits of Francoise Gilot and Sylvette David. Some paintings of the view from his home on the Cote d'Azure use a brighter palette, and I can't help but recall his dialogue, both artistic and personal, with Matisse, who lived in the area until his death in 1954.
The gallery devoted to images of the famous 'dove of peace', chosen by Louis Aragon, not Picasso himself, leads to a larger space devoted to posters, newspaper front pages and photographs of Picasso with fellow Communists. He ignored Russian attempts to encourage him towards their sanctioned realism, and they rejected his portrait of Stalin as insufficiently life-like. Cards and posters he designed for different organisations and events certainly demonstrate his engagement and willingness to be publicly linked to these causes. One is a postcard to celebrate International Women's Day in 1964. I don't think this, combined with some of his later nudes in display can convincingly make the case for him as a feminist. His misogyny will remain a subject of debate for many years to come, but perhaps this will be one useful example in showing his commitment to freedom for all marginalised groups.
The last few galleries show series of paintings and prepatory sketches for Rape of the Sabines, Dejeuner sur l'Herbe (after Manet) and (self)portraits in the guise of a 17th century muskateers. Certainly the more common reading of these paintings is that Picasso at this stage in his life was engaging with art and artists of the past to cement his place in the history of art as the equal of Manet, Rembrandt and Poussin. Situating these works in the context of contemporary events provides an intriguing counterpoint (his Women of Algiers after Delacroix, was painted during the conflict that would eventually lead to Algerian independence), but ultimately a political motivation or theme in these works is surely only one among many.
Making an exhibition around Picasso's Communism twenty years after the fall of the Berlin Wall is an achievement in itself and illuminates another facet of his personality. Regardless of one's political affiliations or opinion of Picasso, the fact that so much of his work has been gathered in one place makes the exhibition worth seeing.
The Guardian's review
BBC Liverpool video
Several column inches have already been devoted to the exhibition before it opened and what surprises it may have in store, such as the Daily Telegraph's claim of Picasso's previously unknown support for feminism and the Guardian's skepticism of the depth of his political beliefs.
Having previously written about Picasso's later career and the efforts of different photographers to depict him and how they contributed to his legacy, I was incredibly curious to see how this exhibition would re-interpret his later works, traditionally given much less attention in critical scholarship than his earlier, more groundbreaking pieces and if it would radically revise the perceptions of him as an artist.
The exhibition opens on the ground floor with a timeline of major events in Picasso's life and western history since World War II. Four screens show documentary footage of Picasso at work and news footage from different political events such as the Sheffield Peace Conference of 1950. Anticipating the work on display upstairs, it is presented in grey and white, though I thought some coloured text might have been useful to distinguish general historical events (such as the Suez Crisis) from ones Picasso was directly involved with, politically or personally.
Moving upstairs to the fourth floor, I would venture that more work by Picasso is on display than anywhere else aside from the museums dedicated to his work in France and Barecelona. It is impressively overwhelming. The Charnel House hangs in a smaller room to the left of the entrance. Though it never garnered the attention or reputation of Guernica, it remains a powerful work. If Guernica is a scream of anguish, The Charnel House is a silent post-mortem. The bodies lay twisted but quiet. I know Picasso was initially inspired by the images of a Spanish family killed during the war, but images of Holocaust victims and the way bodies were disposed of in concentration camps were all I could think of. I found the experience incredibly moving.
Still life and landscape paintings dominate the first room, with a couple of sculptures and portraits of Francoise Gilot and Sylvette David. Some paintings of the view from his home on the Cote d'Azure use a brighter palette, and I can't help but recall his dialogue, both artistic and personal, with Matisse, who lived in the area until his death in 1954.
The gallery devoted to images of the famous 'dove of peace', chosen by Louis Aragon, not Picasso himself, leads to a larger space devoted to posters, newspaper front pages and photographs of Picasso with fellow Communists. He ignored Russian attempts to encourage him towards their sanctioned realism, and they rejected his portrait of Stalin as insufficiently life-like. Cards and posters he designed for different organisations and events certainly demonstrate his engagement and willingness to be publicly linked to these causes. One is a postcard to celebrate International Women's Day in 1964. I don't think this, combined with some of his later nudes in display can convincingly make the case for him as a feminist. His misogyny will remain a subject of debate for many years to come, but perhaps this will be one useful example in showing his commitment to freedom for all marginalised groups.
The last few galleries show series of paintings and prepatory sketches for Rape of the Sabines, Dejeuner sur l'Herbe (after Manet) and (self)portraits in the guise of a 17th century muskateers. Certainly the more common reading of these paintings is that Picasso at this stage in his life was engaging with art and artists of the past to cement his place in the history of art as the equal of Manet, Rembrandt and Poussin. Situating these works in the context of contemporary events provides an intriguing counterpoint (his Women of Algiers after Delacroix, was painted during the conflict that would eventually lead to Algerian independence), but ultimately a political motivation or theme in these works is surely only one among many.
Making an exhibition around Picasso's Communism twenty years after the fall of the Berlin Wall is an achievement in itself and illuminates another facet of his personality. Regardless of one's political affiliations or opinion of Picasso, the fact that so much of his work has been gathered in one place makes the exhibition worth seeing.
The Guardian's review
BBC Liverpool video
Thursday, 20 May 2010
'an unsuspecting joy'
Welcome to the 2010 incarnation of this blog. As spring (can't say summer quite yet) has finally started to stick around both seasonally and psychologically, I wanted to start writing about art again. I haven't done this publicly in some time, but the seeds of inspiration blossomed on Saturday night after attending the final performance of The Ballad of Juniper Davy and Sonny Lumiere at Metal's space within Edge Hill Station.
A collaboration between harpist Rebecca Joy Sharp and artist Elizabeth Willow as well as several actors and musicians, parts of the station buildings were transformed into a Victorian dreamscape as the audience followed the characters of Sonny and Juniper under the tracks, through tunnels and up stairs. We were led by dark-suited 'conductors' to each part of the performance. Music alternated with poetry alternated with birds nests on scales, sewing machines powered by foot and wheels being spun with abandon. The antique and industrial sat side by side, hallmarks of Elizabeth Willow's work. We heard trains go by outside whilst being part of a very different world inside. Rebecca Sharp ended the performance at the pedal harp in a blue room, seemingly weaving melodies across the harp's strings as the lights gradually dimmed and only candles remained lit. Haunting and beautiful all at once.
Afterwards tea and biscuits were served on bone china by charming attendents, again all clothed in black. Visitors were invited to give feedback and could choose a small token to take away after completing the survey. There was a tombola with mysterious prizes to be won.
All in all an utterly enchanting evening. Click on the link above to see photos by Mark McNulty which give a nice taste of the event, but sadly cannot substitute for being there. I was told that a CD of the music and poetry is available from News from Nowhere on Bold Street.
Next up...Picasso, Peace and Freedom at Tate Liverpool. Stay tuned...
A collaboration between harpist Rebecca Joy Sharp and artist Elizabeth Willow as well as several actors and musicians, parts of the station buildings were transformed into a Victorian dreamscape as the audience followed the characters of Sonny and Juniper under the tracks, through tunnels and up stairs. We were led by dark-suited 'conductors' to each part of the performance. Music alternated with poetry alternated with birds nests on scales, sewing machines powered by foot and wheels being spun with abandon. The antique and industrial sat side by side, hallmarks of Elizabeth Willow's work. We heard trains go by outside whilst being part of a very different world inside. Rebecca Sharp ended the performance at the pedal harp in a blue room, seemingly weaving melodies across the harp's strings as the lights gradually dimmed and only candles remained lit. Haunting and beautiful all at once.
Afterwards tea and biscuits were served on bone china by charming attendents, again all clothed in black. Visitors were invited to give feedback and could choose a small token to take away after completing the survey. There was a tombola with mysterious prizes to be won.
All in all an utterly enchanting evening. Click on the link above to see photos by Mark McNulty which give a nice taste of the event, but sadly cannot substitute for being there. I was told that a CD of the music and poetry is available from News from Nowhere on Bold Street.
Next up...Picasso, Peace and Freedom at Tate Liverpool. Stay tuned...
Saturday, 19 September 2009
Liverpool Food and Drink Festival
We went last Sunday morning to its opening event in Sefton Park. Over 50 local restaurants and vendors had stalls and the array of cuisines offered was mouth-watering.
I have never seen so many people lined up on a Sunday morning to get into anything; we arrived right at 10.30 when it was meant to be opening and had to queue for at least 15 minutes to get in. We did get a free goody bag from Delifonseca, though they would have done better to distribute them after people had got inside the park and avoided the bottlenecking.
I only had time for a crepe (made by the Frenchwoman who teaches a conversation course at Cafe O7 on alternate Wednesdays) before having to go to work. I managed to get back after my shift ended (praise Sunday trading laws) and though many of the stands had closed/run out of food (it was nearly 5, when the event officially ended) I did get a delicious chorizo ciabatta from Delifonseca, and a Thai green veg curry from Chayophraya which was a wonderful medley of flavours. Husband's pad thai was also tasty, and I plan on trying it again when we go to the branch in Liverpool One. The queue at the crepe stand was enormous by this time and I'm sure Aurelie was mad busy toute la journee.
Participating restaurants have had various offers throughout the week and the festival ends tomorrow with the Hope Street Feast which I plan on checking out. If they get the same crowds as last Sunday it will be heaving!
I have never seen so many people lined up on a Sunday morning to get into anything; we arrived right at 10.30 when it was meant to be opening and had to queue for at least 15 minutes to get in. We did get a free goody bag from Delifonseca, though they would have done better to distribute them after people had got inside the park and avoided the bottlenecking.
I only had time for a crepe (made by the Frenchwoman who teaches a conversation course at Cafe O7 on alternate Wednesdays) before having to go to work. I managed to get back after my shift ended (praise Sunday trading laws) and though many of the stands had closed/run out of food (it was nearly 5, when the event officially ended) I did get a delicious chorizo ciabatta from Delifonseca, and a Thai green veg curry from Chayophraya which was a wonderful medley of flavours. Husband's pad thai was also tasty, and I plan on trying it again when we go to the branch in Liverpool One. The queue at the crepe stand was enormous by this time and I'm sure Aurelie was mad busy toute la journee.
Participating restaurants have had various offers throughout the week and the festival ends tomorrow with the Hope Street Feast which I plan on checking out. If they get the same crowds as last Sunday it will be heaving!
Friday, 5 June 2009
wanderings in wavertree
Wavertree is the area of Liverpool that borders my neighbourhood on the north. It's quite student-y and has rows of late 19th and 20th c. terraced houses typical of northern English cities. It still has a high street, but one that may have seen more lively days. There is still an independent bakery, Sandra Dee's (no website), which I heard of through their appearance at a Slow Food Bread event this spring and at the Lark Lane farmer's market of next-to-last post. I've enjoyed the bread I've had from them, it's fresh, artisan, and pretty affordable. I tried to go again this morning, but it hadn't opened by its stated 9am opening time. I might try again later on my way into town.
A fixture in the student-land on Smithdown Road was the White House coffee lounge, which has been taken over by new owners and relaunched as Oomoo, which I think may be a word coming from the Pacific Islands. I didn't hear the owner say which one though. It's got new wooden furniture and leather couches, with clean lines and brightly painted walls. There seems to be a new outdoor seating area as well. It's got free wi-fi and friendly employees, two good reasons to visit. Quality coffee and a very tasty savoury muffin with basil and roasted red peppers are two further reasons. Sadly my blueberry muffin this morning, though large, wasn't as fresh and on the dry side.
A fixture in the student-land on Smithdown Road was the White House coffee lounge, which has been taken over by new owners and relaunched as Oomoo, which I think may be a word coming from the Pacific Islands. I didn't hear the owner say which one though. It's got new wooden furniture and leather couches, with clean lines and brightly painted walls. There seems to be a new outdoor seating area as well. It's got free wi-fi and friendly employees, two good reasons to visit. Quality coffee and a very tasty savoury muffin with basil and roasted red peppers are two further reasons. Sadly my blueberry muffin this morning, though large, wasn't as fresh and on the dry side.
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