José Pizarro

I recently had a fantastic lunch at José, 104 Bermondsey Street, London SE1 3UB – the first English business I felt worthy of a post on COMPRA. It would seem that Bermondsey Street represents the antithesis of everything this blog has been set up to celebrate, but amid the gated communities, and businesses set up to cater for their needs, there is an island of genuine Spanish warmth. A tiny corner shop front houses José, a Tapas Bar owned by the Spanish Chef, José Pizarro. There are many things about José that lift it above the branded food tourism of so many London based Spanish restaurants. The first and most important is the food – authentic seasonal ingredients simply cooked ‘a la plancha’, and priced to reflect quality not exclusivity. On arrival we ordered a bottle of Albariño, as good as any I had in Galicia and a plate of Girolles, fried with shallots, on sour dough toast, topped with grated Manchego and mint. This was the first in a succession of dishes of simple perfection – the highlights of which were sweet succulent prawns with garlic and chilli and razor clams with chorizo. In an earlier post I talked about Rias Biaxas in Vigo being a place where all classes and professions were able to enjoy food of the highest quality and how in Spain restaurants like this are rarely exclusive or forbidding. Despite it’s up market location José has this same quality and as the afternoon progressed we became immersed in an environment that was as intoxicatingly convivial as any of bars I visited in Valencia, Coruna or Vigo. The size of José engenders this, as does the simplicity of its décor and a layout that forbids people from skulking away in corners. Another key factor is the staff, who seem to have an enthusiasm and a love for the restaurant that is born out of an investment beyond a weekly pay cheque. Our hostess Valentina managed to provide efficient, informative service, while always making us feel like she was enjoying the afternoon as much as we were. At the end of the meal we had a look through Jose Pizarro’s book on Seasonal Spanish Food and would have bought it, had we not blown most of our funds on Iberico ham and glasses Sherry to round off our meal. The first page of the book has a picture of José with his mum and dad, above the picture it says ‘para mis padres’ – this image seems to sum up the attitude of his business. (click images to enlarge)

More Shop Signs

Further examples of the eclectic typography to be found on the Spanish High Street. (click images to enlarge)

Costa Do Marisco

Vigo is one of the main fishing ports on the ‘shellfish coast’. Here are some photographs from a very early morning spent exploring the docks. (click images to enlarge)

Why COMPRA? 02

The idea for Compra was probably formed in one of 4 or 5 very long lunches in Restaurante Rias Biaxas (C. Rep. Argentina Nº, 2). It was very hot in Vigo and I got used to doing what Spaniards do. i.e at around 2pm stop whatever you were doing, go to lunch, have a glass or two of wine and then go home for a snooze. Rias Biaxas became where I went most days and in many ways sums up what I want to pay tribute to in COMPRA. Everyone eats in Rias Biaxas - from builders to businessmen to teachers. The food is of the highest quality, but presented without pretension. It is neither expensive nor cut price. There is no marketing strategy or target audience. No one is favoured, no one is excluded and the people who work there are part of the community. It seems a simple idea, but I know of very few restaurants like it in London. Here is an excerpt from my notebook that hopefully explains part of what COMPRA is about. ‘I found myself in Rias Biaxas again. I had prawns, razorclams and a chop. The TV blared some gameshow chaired by a camp short man with a goatee who seemed to have modelled himself on Graham Norton. I guess the appeal of wise cracking gay men is international! On the next table a couple tucked into a very expensive parillada of seafood. Visually they looked like what some people in England might refer to as ‘chavs’ or ‘white trash’. Lots of tattoos, unisex died hair, unisex beer guts and lots of brightly colored man made fibre. The woman was in her late 30’s and by the way they looked and behaved I imagined the man was her boyfriend rather than her husband. She looked like an extra from a porn film and had really obviously fake boobs. He had peroxide hair and around his wrist wore the sort of wristbands you get at a rave or a festival. They were loud and a little drunk, but from what I understood their conversation largely revolved around the quality of the food. I had tried to eat a parillada before and it takes a level of expertise not to look like an idiot. This couple were obviously experts and at the end of the meal the man very carefully (and very tenderly) demonstrated to his lover some very advanced crab shell clearing.’ Enjoying food is not just for Nigel Slater reading young professionals! (click images to enlarge)

The Street Sweeper

From everything I read at the moment we are all going to have to get used to living with a lot less and not having our regular fix of material acquisitions. I worry about the British obsession with economic status and our disrespect for people whose jobs are not regarded as materially credible, such as street sweepers or caretakers. How will we deal with having to make do with less glamourous occupations. I think that Spain might be better equipped to retain it’s sanity in these times and a meeting with a street sweeper one morning illustrates this point. From my notebook: ‘I got up early this morning to photograph some shop signs before it got too hot. As I lifted my camera to shoot a seventies travel agents signage I noticed a woman in a white street sweepers outfit on the opposite corner. It was a beautiful morning and she had left her cart and was standing, eyes closed, face to the sun, immersed in the experience. As I watched slowly she opened her eyes and, looking over, gave me a cheeky wink.’ (click images to enlarge)

Credit Crunch

The economic crisis that had engulfed the western world in 2007 seemed to have hit Vigo pretty hard. The boom of the early 2000’s had probably not really benefitted this working class town very much but the collapse that followed certainly had. I found closing down sales and boarded up shops on every street and an area that in more prosperous towns would have been called a ‘conservation area’ was instead full of beautiful decaying shells. An extract from my notebook: ‘As the sun went down I decided to take a walk up through the old town. I soon realized that parts of this area were inhabited by people who could barely afford to run electricity let alone preserve period features. Here was genuine poverty, not families in Umbro shellsuits with ASBO’s but hungry old people wearing rags without any lighting. I turned into one street to find a woman in a threadbare football shirt surrounded by around 50 flea bitten cats. She stared at me blankly, barely registering the surprise of seeing a tourist in her part of town.’ (click images to enlarge)

Hotel Mexico

From the moment I stepped off the train, Vigo felt right! I had booked the Hotel Mexico online because it was cheap and near the station. On arrival I realized I was to staying in a seventies gem with a view across the bay and a balcony lit up by a huge ‘H’ at night. (click images to enlarge)

Vigo

In the summer of 2008 I returned to Galicia to visit Vigo. A Coruña had felt like a place people went on holiday, but Vigo felt like a place where people worked. It is primarily a commercial and fishing port located in the Rías Baixas region of Galicia, famous for Albariño, Ribeiro and oysters. (click images to enlarge)

Developing Ideas 03: Lithography

I am lucky enough to work at Camberwell College of Arts and as a result have access to one of the best-equipped traditional printmaking studios in the country. I therefore took at short trip upstairs and talked to Master Lithographer Simon Burbidge to see how the medium that Ravilious used might work for COMPRA. (click images to enlarge)