London street food part 2: The Ribman, Beigel Bake, The Kati Roll Co

(London street food roundup part 1 is here.)

The next day was no different. Off we went in search of nourishment, of flavour, of adventure. Or our idea of them, anyway. Today was going to be even busier. You can forget yer Raiders of the Lost Ark, yer Inglorious Basterds, you can keep yer Quest for the Holy Grail. You can keep yer Apollo 13. We were men on a mission.

First up- thanks to a quick check on Twitter- was Sclater St Market, a Saturdays-only venture in a carpark in Spitalfields. After a tipoff from those Hang Fire gals, we were in search of  Mark Gevaux- London's own The Rib Man. He's usually found at Brick Lane market on Sundays and is a fixture outside his beloved West Ham on match days.

The day's menu was on Henry Ford lines ('anything you like...as long as it's a pork roll') but it's worth noting that this is not your usual smoked shoulder (Boston Butt) pulled pork, but free-range rib meat.

 If those mounds of meat don't get your juices going on a Saturday morning, check your pulse. In fact, skip that and seek urgent medical attention. Or as PY put it- 'it's almost worth getting a West Ham season ticket'.

We ordered two 'smalls' which were anything but; on this scale, a 'large' would involve hiring a Transit. PY went for their home-made barbecue sauce, which had a spicy-sweet-vinegary tang leagues ahead of your usual examples. I had to go for the notorious 'Holy F*ck' (after a sample, of course...).

Apparently the variety of chillies available for each batch, made fresh daily, differs according to what's available; what it is, is well named. Scotch bonnnet and naga jolokia, seeds and all, are obviously pretty potent but not overpowering for the sake of being overpowering- there's a fruity, flavourful point to the sheer heat blast which leaves your lips tingling for some time after.

Well, we can't say we weren't warned.

Tastebuds slapped into full alertness, we wandered round the corner onto Brick Lane and into Beigel Bake. A London institution, they are open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and reportedly produce some 7,000 bagels daily. PY has known this place for a while, even queuing at 1am, so I knew it was going to be worth a visit. Always trust a trencherman.

We joined the long line, after pausing to admire the hot salt beef being carved in the window, but the decision was already long made. (This is not somewhere you ummming and aaahing over what to have, is likely to be much appreciated when it's your turn).

It had to be salt beef . With the Holy F*ck still lighting up parts of  mouth and throat I didn't know existed, the sinus-clearing qualities of a good dollop of English mustard were almost a relief. The beef was predictably superb- warm and salty and ready to fall apart- and the freshly-baked warm bagel/beigel that characteristic combination of light and chewy. A substantial handful of food, coming so soon after The Ribman's efforts, made us take a walk to take stock.

En route an idea took shape: we had seen The Kati Roll Company on London Live's 'Food Junkies' that morning and we were intrigued. Luckilyily, this meant the Central Line to Oxford Circus, so Liverpool Street Station was next and a quick pint of pale ale at its palatial Hamilton Hall before heading for Soho. 24 Poland Street to be exact, their lone British branch (they have three in New York).

Anyone who trawls through this dross regularly (and bless yer heart, guv'nor) will know I have a deep and abiding love for a kati roll. Specifically, for the ace ones which come out of Cardiff's Katiwok. The look here is pretty much rough and ready: a corrugated tin roof, bare brickwork and torn remnants of posters on rough-plastered walls of  brilliant orange. One shrimp masala and one shami kebab duly ordered, I amused myself by reading their 'An ideal boy good habits' poster- a sort of moral primer for youth- and listing how many I had missed out on that day.

The shami had a good amount of good gingery, garlicky heat: the prawn, a spicier mix of coconut and coriander with sliced red onion for added bite, also hit the spot. Very decent, though on the small side. All in all though, I'd fancy the chances of Katiwok in a straight-up eat-off. A kati-kontest, if you will.

It was about now that we started to factor in the knowledge we had a late-evening showdown at Big Easy in Covent Garden, so we did what all gentleman of a certain age and appetite- especially those who had eaten and drunk as we had- do.

We went back home for a kip.