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The Irish Times - Friday - The Ticket - - SEVEN DAYS | GOING OUT - AMcE AMcE Aoife McEl­wain

GREAT FOOD ‘ZINES You’re prob­a­bly fa­mil­iar with the slow-liv­ing bi­ble Kin­folk (kin­folk.com), and the en­gag­ingly brash style of Lucky Peach mag­a­zine (luck­y­peach.com), but there is plenty of other stim­u­lat­ing food writ­ing to be found in gas­tro­nomic mag­a­zines if you’re look­ing to ex­tend your food mag­a­zine li­brary.

I’ve been most ex­cited by my re­cent dis­cov­ery of Food Phreak­ing, a per­fectly pack­aged col­lec­tion of book­lets by the food-cen­tric artists at The Cen­ter for Ge­nomic Gas­tron­omy (ge­nomic­gas­tron­omy.com). This fas­ci­nat­ing think-tank is the project of Dublin-based Zack Den­field and Cathrine Kramer, and their grow­ing col­lec­tion of ‘zines put for­ward es­says around food tech­nol­ogy and open cul­ture.

My cur­rent bed­time read­ing is Is­sue 02 which tack­les the topic of in-vitro meat, ie meat grown in a lab, and puts to­gether a bal­anced view of this bur­geon­ing tech­nol­ogy thanks to ex­perts out­lin­ing the pros and cons of “cul­tured” meat. You can buy a bun­dle of the three cur­rent is­sues for about ¤35 plus ship­ping on food­phreak­ing.com. You can also have a look at free down­load­able ver­sions of the ‘zines on their web­site, but I would rec­om­mend buy­ing these book­lets so you can en­joy them in the flesh.

Root + Bone is a free, quar­terly mag­a­zine co-founded by Lon­don-based, Kilkenny-born pho­tog­ra­pher Steve Ryan, whose food por­trai­ture is par­tic­u­larly out­stand­ing. Root + Bone con­tains just the right amount of ir­rev­er­ence and cheek­i­ness, with long-form pieces tack­ling sub­jects such as Vegemite vs Mar­mite, and recipes en­ti­tled “How To BBQ with Na­palm”. You can get a feel for their style on­line at rootand­bone.co.uk, where you can sub­scribe for free – you just pay the postage. You can also pick up a free copy of the mag­a­zine in print in the Fum­bally Café in Dublin 8.

An­other mag­a­zine you’re likely to find float­ing around the Fum­bally Café, though this time for pur­chase, is Fool, a food mag­a­zine based in Malmo, Swe­den, cre­ated by hus­band and wife team Lotta and Per-An­ders Jor­gensen. This mag­a­zine is a col­lec­tion of “food, in­san­ity, bril­liance and love” and re­cent cover stars in­clude Iñaki Aizpi­tarte of Le Chateaubriand in Paris and Mag­nus Nils­son of Fäviken in Swe­den. Apart from the Fum­bally Café, other Ir­ish stock­ists in­clude Ard Bia and cof­feew­erk + press, both in Gal­way. Is­sues three, four and five are avail­able on­line at fool.se and work out at about ¤25 per is­sue, in­clud­ing ship­ping.

Am­brosia is a new fancy mag­a­zine on the block, pub­lished twice a year from New York pub­lish­ing team Dig­i­tal Ven­tures. It fea­tures one coun­try and its food cul­ture per is­sue, com­bin­ing a food and travel mag­a­zine ap­proach. The first is­sue on Mex­ico has sold out, but there are still copies avail­able of their sec­ond vol­ume, which zooms in on Den­mark and fea­tures in­ter­views from René Redzepi of that level of de­tail just yet. Ur­ban­ity has three grinders (most cafes only have one on the go, though it’s more com­mon to have two these days) which means they can eas­ily of­fer you a choice of three beans, and thus dif­fer­ent taste pro­files, on any given day.

There’s food, too, in­clud­ing some pleas­ing sal­ads that are in­ven­tive yet ac­ces­si­ble. I add a small por­tion of salad to my sand­wich order (an ad­di­tional ¤2.50) and go for the roasted broc­coli with a sweet tahini sauce, and a por­tion of a cele­riac, or­ange, ap­ple and sumac salad. The ham and cheese sand­wich (¤6.50) doesn’t quite match the rest of the menu’s of­fer­ing. The ham is de­cent but the cheese is dull and sweaty.

Ur­ban­ity had been so busy dur­ing the lunchtime wave that hit them be­fore I ar­rived that I lit­er­ally got the last Arun Bak­ery bun in the kitchen, so my op­tions were lim­ited. A Mid­dle East­ern Chicken sand­wich on the menu looked a lit­tle more in­ter­est­ing. There are plenty of house-made desserts, and a teeny tahini bis­cuit (¤1) goes down a treat with my cof­fee.

Cof­fee is king here at Ur­ban­ity. Visit them from 8am to 5pm, Mon­day to Fri­day, or on Satur­days from 10am to 4pm.

Fia Café

Noma and Matthew Or­lando from Amass. You can get the is­sue for around ¤17, plus ship­ping, on­line at am­brosia­mag.com.

From the same pub­lish­ing team as Am­brosia, cof­fee nerds will de­light in Drift. It fol­lows the same prin­ci­ple as Am­brosia, and em­barks on a cof­fee trav­el­ogue of a cho­sen city through­out the is­sue. So far, Drift has stud­ied New York, Tokyo and Ha­vana, and its next is­sue will look at Stock­holm. The is­sues work out at around ¤22 plus ship­ping and you can order on­line at drift­mag.com.

Go­ing back to a more tra­di­tional idea of a mag­a­zine, and away from high-production value glossy (or matte, as the case may be) mags, you might en­joy the home­made feel of Rem­edy Quar­terly, a quar­terly mag­a­zine by Kelly Carám­bula, a San Fran­cisco-based graphic 155b Rath­gar Road, Dublin 6 fia.ie Fia Café is the brain­child of friends and busi­ness part­ners Alan and Derek. In the early as­sem­bling of the Fia Café team, Roasted Brown lent the café their barista Johnny North­cutt, who is mak­ing the im­pec­ca­ble brews (¤3 for a flat white) with Roasted Brown beans the day I visit.

My lunch is Peas on Toast (¤8), a dish that un­apolo­get­i­cally makes use of the good­ness in frozen peas by top­ping toasted sour­dough with plenty of them, and cov­er­ing them with chunks of McCarthy’s tremen­dous black pud­ding. A softly fried egg sits atop, a sprin­kling of herb salt mak­ing it all the more in­ter­est­ing.

There are four break­fast dishes (served from 9am to noon) and three lunch dishes (served from noon to 4pm). Two daily spe­cials afe of­fered as a way to trial dishes for week­end brunch menu. Rather than a soup, of­fers a more sub­stan­tial broth-based hot­pot (¤7) is of­fered. The Filo Pie (¤10) is a mix of size­able spinach leaves from McNally’s Fam­ily Farm, lightly steamed, and par­celled into sheets of filo along­side bay leaves, rose­mary, dill seeds, mint, dill, Greek feta from Lil­liput Stores in Stoney­bat­ter and eggs. It’s a sat­is­fy­ing take on the clas­sic spanako­pita. The menu will change reg­u­larly, and will be in­flu­enced by what sup­pli­ers can of­fer.

Visit on Tues­day to Fri­day from 7.30am to 4pm, and Satur­day to Sun­day from 10am to 4pm.

Meet Me in the Morn­ing

50 Pleas­ants Street Dublin 8 face­book.com/ meet­meinthe­morn­ing de­signer turned food blog­ger. She launched Rem­edy Quar­terly ( rem­e­dyquar­terly.com) in 2009 to ac­com­pany her blog, The Best Rem­edy. Each is­sue of Rem­edy Quar­terly has a theme – such as Taste, Share, Fresh and Gather – ex­am­ined by a col­lec­tion of food writ­ers in each is­sue through es­says and recipes. In the Taste is­sue, Katy Sev­er­son gives an ac­count of her ex­pe­ri­ence work­ing in April Bloom­field’s New York City kitchen where she learned to taste with other peo­ple’s palates in mind, and Sylvie Mor­gan Brown shares her ac­count of get­ting over her aver­sion to the taste of mush­rooms.

On a sim­i­larly home­made yet skilled vibe is Short Stack Edi­tions (short­stackedi­tions.com). These lit­tle pam­phlets fea­ture a dif­fer­ent food writer delv­ing into one in­gre­di­ent per is­sue. The cur­rent is­sue is an ex­plo­ration of cher­ries, while past sub­jects in­clude maple syrup, straw­ber­ries, chick­peas, corn and lemons.

Each is­sue is hand-bound in New York us­ing butcher’s string. That might sound twee but the graphic de­sign is any­thing but. You can buy a bun­dle of all 21 is­sues for just over ¤200. That may seem like a lot but it would be a worth­while in­vest­ment for a fervent food lover. Some peo­ple spend their money on hand­bags and shoes; oth­ers spend their dough on food mag­a­zines. Opened by Brian O’Keefe on April 15th, Meet Me In The Morn­ing’s clear, un­pre­ten­tious iden­tity al­ready feels fully formed within a month of open­ing. He has brought his cof­fee ar­dour to his café, and my flat white (¤3.50) is flaw­less and flavour­ful. O’Ke­effe has plans to ro­tate be­tween an Ir­ish and an in­ter­na­tional roaster. When I visit, he’s us­ing beans from Hexagone Café, roasted in ru­ral France by Stéphane Cataldi, who pro­vided O’Ke­effe with his beans when he com­peted in the Brew­ers’ Cup, on both the Ir­ish and world stage.

In the kitchen, Fiona Hal­li­nan is an as­tute artist as well as be­ing a skilled cook. Hal­li­nan is greatly in­flu­enced by the vis­ual beauty of food, and her recipes are in­spired by her trav­els to places such as Beirut and In­dia. Her Nut Eile (¤5) is based on a friend’s recipe of roasted hazel­nuts blitzed and coco-ed up with raw ca­cao. It’s served sprin­kled with sea salt and slathered onto toasted slices of Le Le­vain sour­dough. The honey on the side is from O’Ke­effe’s fa­ther’s hives in Roscom­mon. Her bowl of egg and greens (¤7) ac­com­plishes break­fast tran­scen­dence. The egg is just cooked so that it runs glo­ri­ously into the rain­bow chard and sor­rel, sup­plied by Christie Sta­ple­ton from the nearby Green Door Mar­ket.

There are also spring onions, sweet­ened through fry­ing. A dol­lop of gar­lic yo­gurt melds with drops of pa­prika and chilli oil that is evoca­tive of chorizo while main­tain­ing this dish’s veg­e­tar­ian cre­den­tials. There are just a hand­ful of dishes ev­ery day, with an em­pha­sis on

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