Angus Colwell is The Spectator’s daily newsletters editor, and lead author of Morning Press. He also reviews restaurants for the magazine.
From our UK edition
19 min listen
On this week’s Spectator Out Loud: James Heale reflects on Labour party conference; Angus Colwell goes on the hunt for Britain’s wokest bar; Lisa Haseldine reveals what she has been stockpiling; and Chas Newkey-Burden provides his notes on pickled onions. Produced and presented by Patrick Gibbons.
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When you hear that something represents the best of Britain, treat it as nonsense. The phrase ‘best of British’ has been used to describe the Royal Navy’s new Astute-class nuclear submarine the HMS Agamemnon, as well as Waitrose’s pork loin medallions. But turning things, people and institutions into flattering national allegories is addictive, and there’s one institution that pops up all the time: Arsenal football club. Arsenal’s sophistication, its urbane nature, its diversity, is regularly cited as a good example of British multiculturalism. A current exhibition at UCL East, ‘Black Arsenal’, says that the club has a ‘unique’ relationship with black British culture.
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15 min listen
Tim Shipman has interviewed Kemi Badenoch ahead of Tory party conference this weekend. In the interview, the Conservative party leader exclusively reveals the Tories plan to ban benefits to under 25s who have never worked before. For this special episode of Coffee House Shots, here is an extract from the Spectator's Edition podcast, where Tim sat down with the Spectator's Lara Prendergast and Angus Colwell and the Telegraph's Poppy Coburn. Produced by Patrick Gibbons.
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Annalisa Quinn is an editor at the Boston Globe magazine, and through a mixture of good fortune, good journalism and good writing, she published the perfect story for our times last week. On 31 August, a lesbian bar in western Massachusetts called Last Ditch posted on Instagram that ‘it is with love we inform our immuno-compromised disabled divas we will be opening Saturday nights as mask optional’. Previously, KN-95 face masks were the minimum level of protection required to attend the bar at all times. The owners were swiftly accused of being eugenicists. One commentator said: ‘People like you kill disabled people in the name of your own leisure and convenience.’ Another wished the venue to be firebombed. Last Ditch attempted an apology.
From our UK edition
23 min listen
On this week’s Spectator Out Loud: Freddy Gray delves into how a smooth-talking Democrat could win the Michigan mid-terms; Michael Simmons explores where the billionaires who leave Britain actually go; Elisabeth Braw explains how we will soon be in a battle for the sea bed; and Angus Colwell reflects on the food on offer at Reform conference. Produced and presented by Abigail Brierley.
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You know what, I was looking forward to Reform’s party conference in Birmingham. Up there as a journalist, not a member, mind you. Yet you hear a lot of sighing and moaning from journalists about going to these things (never mind the fact that many would kick off if their editors didn’t let them go). What’s the matter, guys? It’s a trip away, lots of mingling, lots of material. But there’s not much in the way of good food. Not to sound like a child emperor demanding a veal sweetbread at every meal, but the offering at these things is really, really bad. And I think Reform needs to sort it out. Reform-coded conference food could be very good.
From our UK edition
29 min listen
On this week’s Spectator Out Loud: Tali Fraser delves into why Labour’s socioeconomic duty is attacking the middle classes; John Power tells us how clipping is changing politics, Sophia Money-Coutts muses over which car would best suit her dog; and Angus Colwell spills the beans on Soho’s newest Turkish restaurant. Produced and presented by Abigail Brierley.
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Well, I’m still full. That’s the first thing to know. -Probably will be at the time you read this too. It’s 16 hours since I finished dinner at Kid, and I think I might be ready to eat again at dinner tomorrow. So was it worth it? I’m writing this more quickly after the meal than usual. Why the rush? This is because, for one time only, I wanted to be the FIRST critic to review a HOT NEW OPENING. There was nothing in the papers last week, so I think I’ve done it… although the Times puts Giles Coren online on a Wednesday, and as I have to write on Tuesday, I don’t know yet. It’s an utterly pointless thing to strive for, but you’ve got to show commitment.
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22 min listen
On this week’s Spectator Out Loud: Simon Sebag Montefiore explains how his ancestor dealt with antisemitism; Vanessa Feltz says she is coming for Piers Morgan; Sophia Money-Coutts argues we should cut the price of stamps to save the Christmas card; and finally, Angus Colwell takes on the Cornish culinary mafia. Produced and presented by Patrick Gibbons.
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‘Expect David Cameron to be there.’ This was the main thing I had been told before I went to Four Boys in Rock, Cornwall. As I arrive, it makes sense. This is a Cameron-y sort of place and not just because every man in here looks a bit like David Cameron. Why? Well, Cameron’s big idea as leader of the Conservative party was to modernise it. ‘We’ll get elected if we hug hoodies and manage to not pull a face when we see an avocado.’ Four Boys, with its awareness of fashion, is doing something similar. I notice something at the top of the menu when I sit down. ‘We recommend sharing our food.’ What? Small plates?! Sharing?! I’m trying to get away from east London! Yet all has been done judiciously.
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52 min listen
William Moore is joined by The Spectator’s associate editor Toby Young, commissioning editor Lara Brown and newsletter editor and restaurant critic Angus Colwell. This week: What has gone wrong with British universities? Lara unpacks the wider academic crisis in the wake of the Jason Arday scandal, from ‘surviving the apocalypse’ courses at Warwick to maths departments promising to ‘decolonise’ the subject. Has the sector lost its nerve? Also: Balding. Toby explains why he’s trying to talk his three sons out of hair transplants, while Angus and Lara weigh in on whether men vastly overestimate the importance of their hair on the dating market. Plus: is Indian the best cuisine?
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One of the things I find most confusing is the practice of going for a curry when you’re hammered. Having tried this with friends a couple of times, I have concluded that anyone who likes the pints-then-curry act is a liar or feels so awful regularly that the feeling afterwards is nothing abnormal. There is no type of food I dislike more than bad Indian: the places where a vindaloo means three scoops of curry powder and a rogan josh means two; where onion is undetectable in the sunflower oil bhaji.
“London-style pizza.” People think there is such a thing. Somewhere over the past three years, the pizza hype in Britain’s capital city has gotten out of control. Our economy is struggling and chefs have turned to the food that literally nobody dislikes. Loads of new places have opened: we’ve had Vincenzo’s, Carmy’s, Breadstall, Gracy’s, Lenny’s, Dough Hands, etc. Can’t you tell they’re all incredibly different? All of them really (although they would quibble) have been putting out the exact same style of pizza. The problem is: what do you call it? It’s hard to describe. Critics say it’s “burnt.” There’s some truth to that.
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The worst areas to eat in London are the best places to live. Hampstead, Chelsea, Chiswick, St John’s Wood: all would be lucky to have even one restaurant that would be an 8/10 in Hackney. This is disappointing because Hackney is annoying, but, hey, hipsters make good restaurants. I wonder why these areas are so lacking. Is it because St John’s Wood Man has an underpaid cook on speed dial? Is it because Belgravian Influencer orders a shawarma every night? Is it because Hampstead Family don’t eat where they sh– hmm, yes... A little bruschetta of chopped rabbit livers comes next, visible through a translucent sheet of lardo Whatever the explanation, the exception to this rule is Wandsworth Common.
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At what point, during Team Burnham’s preparations for government, did the overture to ‘Bus Aunty’ go out? Was she contacted before or after the editor of the Observer, one wonders? Was she approached before they had chosen a policing minister? Was she more important to win over than Al Carns? If you don’t know who ‘Bus Aunty’ is, that’s a shame, because Andy Burnham doesn’t care. He isn’t trying to talk to you. You, evidently, are a reader. You read pieces in The Spectator. Perhaps you listen to Times Radio, or even peruse our morning newsletter. Well, Andy Burnham’s done with all that.
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It’s a Saturday afternoon and I’ve just walked into The Pineapple in north London, thus becoming the 4,825th journalist to do so since Keir Starmer became Labour leader. He once described this pub as his ‘church’. What that means is unclear. Does he take his sins here for absolution? Does he feel a sense of obligation to it? Does he come here on Sunday mornings? As the prime-ministerial handover takes place, it’s worth considering the old guy and the new guy’s approach to food and drink (this column thinks so, anyway). Starmer didn’t have a favourite novel and he didn’t have a favourite poem. But what he did like was food. He said he enjoyed going to Rossella, an Italian restaurant in Kentish Town. The tandoori salmon he made on Sunday Brunch actually looked nice.
If there’s one thing more boring than people telling you about their dreams, it’s people telling you about their exercise. And if there’s one thing more boring than people telling you about their exercise, it’s people telling you about how they use AI. With that in mind, here’s how I’ve been using ChatGPT as my running coach. Stick with me. Most runners now use an app called Runna, which creates personalised runs for you, according to your target race date, time you have to train, and what not. One friend who has recently started running – ‘I could barely drag my lardy arse around 5k at 6:00/km’ – managed to run a 55-minute 10K after just two months using it.
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28 min listen
On this week’s Spectator Out Loud: Max Jeffery explains the truth about how the British Empire is taught in schools; Gavin Mortimer asks why Giorgia Meloni is courting Emmanuel Macron; James Delingpole reviews the World Cup; after 25 years, Aidan Hartley bows out as the Spectator’s Wild life columnist; and finally, the Spectator’s new restaurant critic Angus Colwell ponders how much discount you should get, if your father almost chokes to death on a lamb kleftiko. Produced and presented by Patrick Gibbons.
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Can there be, in Britain, such a thing as a destination Greek taverna? There are some cases where proximity is the most important thing: gyms, cafés, defibrillators. A Greek taverna falls into this category. All you need is harmless food and ambient fake vines for a catch-up with your relatives. But I’m in need of a new one. Lemonia in north London was a good option until halfway through my final meal there. A bit of lamb kleftiko decided it wanted to remain in the entrance to my father’s trachea. Choking, mouth frothing, screaming for help, oh thank God there’s a nurse over there, Heimlich, hospital, then, seven hours later, home.
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Across the border from San Sebastian, just down the beach, is France. I never got over that. San Sebastian is so effervescent, so tropical, so fast, that its proximity to the surlier Gauls seems strange. French cooking is the best in the world and there is no point arguing. But somehow it’s been eclipsed by its neighbour on the Basque coast. Biarritz and Bayonne have nothing on this Spanish city that’s pretty much universally called the ‘culinary capital of the world’. Of course, it isn’t quite: that’s still Paris or maybe Tokyo. But San Sebastian might be the best place in the world to eat. There’s a difference. You can’t go to Paris just to eat: even by day two, un autre confit duck leg begins to make you feel sick.
