Eating with Real People

Steak and roast chicken, savoury sausage and baked salmon, wine and puddings, maple fudge and a custard slice. It has been a week of eating. When I arrive at my home town of Port Talbot in South Wales, within minutes of getting off the train, it’s the first thing I organise, and then organise again. And again.

Pretty cappuccino at
Cafe Remos, Aberafan Beach
Actually, the custard slice was only half a custard slice. I shared it with my sister at Café Remos on Aberafan Beach after we’d spent a couple of hours walking around the western perimeter of the council estate where we both grew up. My new book, Real Port Talbot, will include memoir (my own and others’) as well as local history and the only way to see an area, to notice what remains, and to remember what has disappeared is to walk it. Even if the wind threatens to take off the top layer of our faces as we turn the corners of the ‘colour’ streets near the beach. And, appropriately, it’s in Scarlet Avenue that my sister confesses to forgery.

‘I only had one ticket for the Naval Club Disco,’ she says, ‘and I wanted my friend Veronica to come with me so we made another one.’

I’m impressed. She was only 12! Think of what she could have achieved if she’d capitalised on this talent.  

I confess that I once stole a monkey nut from the greengrocery section at the Co-op in Fairway. I could feel the dare rising up in me as I realised it would be small enough to fit into my eight-year-old hand and I brushed my fingers over the top of the pile and closed them around one. 

In the warmth of Café Remos we watch the whip of the sea and the rain slap against the plate glass windows. Opposite us a man is reading a  black leather bible and making copious notes into a spiral bound notebook. I wonder what his reaction would be if he knew he was in the presence of a forger and a thief?

At this point my sister and I would like to point out that we were not encouraged by our successes in these fields and that these were our first and only attempts at deceit for material gain. And I didn’t even like monkey nuts.

12 Cafe, 37 Commercial Road, Taibach, Port Talbot

You could pass 12 Café in Taibach, a community to the east of Port Talbot town centre, and be excused for thinking that this was a contemporary café more or less like any other. It offers leather sofas at the front, plenty of bright, clean tables and chairs, and free wi-fi. All the food is prepared fresh every day as the intoxicating, savoury scent of baking proves as you enter.

I’ve come in with Allen Blethyn, a retired carpenter and joiner who discovered his passion late in life for local history, for researching the people and the places and the events that make us who we are now. Allen has shown me copper slag coping stones, chapels and old butcher’s shops and now he takes me into 12 Café because he understands that the Real Port Talbot will be just that: a real account of the town as it is now as well as a record of the past.

12 Café is a social enterprise run by West Glamorgan Council on Drug and Alcohol Abuse Limited. You can read more about the project and its aims here.

While I am sure there are lots of different social enterprises providing valuable help to people and communities this one, revolving around the preparation of food, of people eating together, particularly appeals to me. The whole ethos of cooking is about transformation and understanding. It’s about self-confidence and contributing to the enjoyment of others. And one cheese and onion toastie and a café latte later it is obvious that 12 Café has all these ingredients and more. 

I currently have two stamps on my loyalty card. I reckon I’ll be getting my free coffee very soon. But if you're too far away to pop into 12 Café you can Like them on Facebook and tell them what a great job they’re doing.

Hungry Writing Prompts
  1. Write about something that has disappeared from your life.
  2. Write about a crime.
  3. Write about something you remember from your past that has affected your present life.
  4. Write about a particular smell that you associate with a particular place.
  5. Write about a favourite cafe.

Comments

  1. trina pearce10:13

    all the volunteers at 12 cafe would like to thank you for the great post letting every1 know what we are about and very much appreciate ur kind words and also very much looking forward to ur next visit to 12 cafe :) wishing you a very merry christmas and a very happy new year :)
    trina pearce (volunteer) assistant manager

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  2. Terry Townend19:42

    Cold Friday evenings in Aberavon during the mid 1960 meant sitting about in coffee bars in the warmth of the company of good friends. Here through rose tinted glasses we would set the world to right Our favourite Friday evening pastime prior to adjourning to Ferraris Café Station Road Port Talbot would be trolling the isles of near by “Fine Fare” Supermarket turning inward the labels of all tinned food originating in South Africa We believed that by doing this the South African Government’s economy would crash due to a dramatic slump in the sale of their Fruit Cocktail and that Apartheid would fail resulting in the release of Mr Mandela. Little did P.W.Botha know that a few Aberavon friends gathered together were busy plotting the downfall of Apartheid over a frothy cup of Ferraris Expresso and a Custard slice Which lasted the whole evening but which was never grumbled at by Steve Taffirelli and his brother Benny God Bless them

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  3. You're very welcome Trina - see you next year!

    Hi Terry - thanks so much for sharing for the Port Talbot memories - other peoples always help to expand my own. I love the anti-Apartheid story! And I was only thinking about FineFare the other day - what a great name for a supermarket. Just popping over to Facebook to ask you a question about Ferrari's : )

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  4. Stephen Fryer21:18

    All the other boys employed the steaming technique, crowding the sweet counter at Woolworths Saturday morning and distracting the poor harrassed assistant enough to enable the designated snatcher to snatch a handful, later distributed in the graveyard over the road.
    Me, I was the invisible angel who drifted by the same counter minutes later as the assistants discussed the little thieving shits and innocently palmed a gobstopper.
    Result!

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  5. Hi Stephen - oh, the Woolworths sweet counter! How many thousands, millions maybe, of pick'n mix disappeared into sticky little hands?! Thanks for the story.

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  6. I'm a bit late with a comment but I have only just found your blog.I Love the story of your sister and you confessing to each other. Priceless!

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  7. Hi Cassam - thanks! I think a lot of these stories will feed into a book I'm writing about my hometown. In fact, I'm a few days behind with a Hungry Writer post because I've been in Wales researching... so I'd better get on with one now!

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