Nursery Tales and Nursery Food

Backed by Sussex Square to the north and flanked by the terraces of Lewes Crescent to either side, the Kemp Town Enclosures, a large private pleasure garden of some several acres, slopes gently down to the sea. Not dissimilar to a London park in miniature, this green oasis is a highly prized asset to those fortunate to inhabit the stucco mansions, now mostly divided into flats, which surround it. But should that privilege be not enough, a gated tunnel leads from the grounds directly to the beach thus affording the residents of this fashionable area of Brighton an immediate and private access to the English Channel.

The tunnel, for such it is, brick-built, arched and somewhat gloomy, has secured a place in the annals of English Literature for it became the inspiration for Lewis Carroll's magical tale of 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'. Little surprise, therefore, that a short distance from the Enclosures is to be found Alice's Coffee Shop.

Now, most recently, this has become a favourite haunt, to which when in Brighton I am often taken, of my two very on trend, gay friends, T and G. Imagine, if you will, a very ordinary shop in a small, commercial street. To pass through the front door is, and herein lies its appeal, to track back in time some fifty or more years.

Decorated throughout in white and predominantly shades of green, where Eau-de-Nil is mostly favoured, the tables are squares of formica, the chairs of the Utility type born of the war years, the linoleum close to emerald, carpet in the smaller back room, and the ornaments, in plenty, chosen with obvious care. In addition to the Spode 'Vintage' series on plates of a botanical theme, the assorted teapots in fantastic shapes and the plethora of notices exhorting the patrons as to what may or may not be done [no mobile telephones, no children unattended, only food purchased to be consumed on the premises, etc. etc.], the principal attractions are the series of cut-outs and figurines drawn from the very heart of 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland', 'Through the Looking Glass' or wherever.

The proprietor, the Mad Hatter, is master of the dumb waiter which connects to the basement kitchen where the Queen of Hearts toils, if not over jam tarts, in the production of all day breakfasts mostly served with chipped potatoes which, apparently, is the staple diet of the pensioners and young mothers who largely make up the clientele.

Why, you may ask, are we there? Not, I assure you, for the steaming mugs of tea, the mountains of ready sliced toast, not even the hash browns - the last never part of 1950s Britain. No, we are enticed inside by the positively delicious, ample portions of the pudding of the day. Jam roly-poly, spotted dick, treacle sponge, bread-and-butter pudding - it is all to be had - and each bowlful incomplete without lashings of custard sauce. Nursery food par excellence!

Or I think that this is the reason. But could T and G have some ulterior motive in the form of the White Rabbit, an Adonis of a gilded youth, who delivers the puddings to our table with such panache? I trust not.

P.S. The illustration, depicting the Mad Hatter's Tea Party, is taken from an unknown edition of 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'. It has no connection with the Tea Party of the United States of America about which we, in the United Kingdom, hear much.