He's a Regular

On Cornmarket Street, at the very center of Oxford, there has arisen a funny situation. At one end, in a lovely old building straight out of medieval England, there is a restaurant called Prêt à Manger. As the name implies, they sell food that is “ready to eat,” pre-made and packaged on the shelf. So you walk in, search the shelf for whatever sandwich you desire, and take it up to the check out. These ready-made sandwiches are wildly popular here and are sold all over the place. But what is particularly funny is that at the other end of Cornmarket Street, just a 30 second walk away (it’s a small street), is another Prêt à Manger. Same deal – same prepackaged sandwiches, same overpriced chips, the whole shebang.

This scene made me think of a similar one in Edinburgh that I could not help noticing when I was there a few summers back. Walking along Princess Street in the new section of the city, at every corner I came to a guy holding a sign pointing down the intersecting street that said “Pizza Hut this way.” I kid you not, at one point I passed three or four consecutive streets, each one block apart, at which a Pizza Hut man was seen lurking. And looking down each street as I walked by, sure enough, there was a Pizza Hut.

The phenomenon of the uber-popular fast food establishments in Europe astonishes me, whether it is Pizza Hut or the healthier Prêt. It amazes me because it is completely unnecessary. Here in Oxford, there are so many options just a minute or two walk away from each Prêt where you can get a whole baguette sandwich, much tastier, much more filling, and just all around more excellent than the Prêt sandwiches for the same price or less. And what really doesn’t make sense to me, is that there are two Sainsbury’s (the local grocery) within five minutes of the Prêts (and one is about fifteen seconds from the northern Prêt), which sell the same sandwiches sold at Prêt for much cheaper. So here are the options: Prêt, with its overpriced normal sandwiches, Sainsbury’s, with the same sandwiches for cheaper, or the local baguette place with better food for the same price or cheaper than Prêt. It doesn’t seem to be a hard decision, but I guess it is, given the crowds that I always see in Prêt.

Needless to say, I ate at Prêt once, and I do not intend to ever return. It wasn’t hard for me to find a place I enjoyed much more, and to me, there is more that rides on sandwich choice than mere gastronomy. Where you choose to dine can add entire new dimensions to the experience you have, wherever you live. While I always enjoy good food, I am equally enthralled with the idea of becoming a “regular.” But some places are much more worthy of regularity than others. Regularity is like beautiful decorations adorning a house: if the house is ugly, the decorations only make the house uglier. Likewise, regularity should be paired with food and atmosphere that are worthy of note.

On Holywell Street, there is this little establishment called the ATS, the Alternative Tuck Shop. It provides an alternative (obviously) to the original Tuck Shop, which is just down the street, though the original seems to be mostly a newspaper shop, not a tuck shop. The ATS is tiny; you cannot eat in the place, just order and take out. But it has the most amazing sandwiches and paninis around. Whether you want chicken satay or tikka; turkey, brie, and cranberry; the avocado melt; chicken pesto; or any of the huge assortment of more common sandwiches; this place has it all. And to top it off, all their bread is homemade and simply scrumptious.

This has become my local noontide haunt when I dine out for lunch. And in consistently choosing it for lunch, I have become a regular. The same guys work there every day, and amidst the huge demand (there is always a long line out the door), they still always have time to ask how I’ve been doing lately. Being a regular is one of those pleasures that makes you feel like you have actually become part of the establishment. You are no longer the visiting foreigner; you have become a local. This opportunity has been most gratifying to me; indeed, it is this sort of thing that I know I will recall in my old age with great fondness: “You remember that little ATS place with the amazing chicken satay? Those were the days.” Being a regular there almost makes me proud, like I am a representative for a worthy cause, and eating at the ATS is surely a worthy cause. The food and unique atmosphere are exceptional, and I doubt I will find another sandwich shop so worthy anytime soon.

And no adventure is complete without also becoming a regular at some coffee shop. Coffee shops have always been my favorite place to sit down and relax, study, or write, and this is no different in Oxford. In fact, I am writing this blog in a coffee shop, and by my estimations, the best one in Oxford. Here I am in Caffè Nero in Blackwell’s Bookshop, the largest bookstore I have ever encountered. I can’t imagine a more heavenly coffee shop. It is always abuzz with the eager chatter of undergrads and the elderly alike. There is this one man I always see here and you can always here him talking with his companion (generally one other man in particular) about some sort of philosophical topic. There are always the homework doers scattered about at tables and the bibliophiles in the comfortable chairs. And almost every book you could ever want to read is right at your fingertips to peruse and enjoy without the need to purchase, but in a much more lovely environment than the local library. Ah yes, it is wonderful. Here too I have become a regular, spending many afternoons with a cup of coffee (or water, when the coffee money has reached its budgeted allowance), reading, writing, or working.

But this is a different sort of regularity. Though the baristas may recognize me, the homeliness that arises here is in its lazy atmosphere and the smells and sounds of coffee and book lovers. Stress disappears in this place and all is happiness, coffee, and books, which are all, of course, exactly the same thing.

Being a regular, then, can take different forms. It can mean familiarity with food, knowing the workers, or it can simply be feeling as if you are in your home away from home. Whichever way regularity is manifested, it is one of those joys that needs to be cherished and recognized, for sometimes it can pass you by if it is never acknowledged. I know I will always be an American, so I will never truly be at home abroad, but this is a major step and perhaps the most important for me. So if you can’t find me, I’m probably at Blackwell’s or coming there from the ATS. It’s good to be a regular again.