F is for Foda....

When the sweetest French Toast is the light at the end of a very dark tunnel and nostalgia looms large amongst the leafy environs of Monkseaton…

How I’ve missed you!! Two years since the last entry, it felt as if the F would never arrive. Internal problems that confounded the medical profession led to food paranoia… was it too much dairy, was it not enough fibre, was it too much fibre, was it too much fruit, was it not enough cheese? Doctors asked the same questions, did the same tests, prescribed the same pills – nothing changed. 14 stone(ish) became 11 stone(ish). Meetings with friends were often cancelled due to sickness; meetings with friends stopped being arranged to avoid cancelling them – it all became very dark and extremely difficult. And then suddenly it wasn’t.

I found a nutritionist called Julie who worked around Tynemouth. Four sessions and my life changed. I understood the impact of rapeseed oil on my body and why olive oil was better, I found out that long-chain-fatty-acids not only have too many hyphens, but also caused problems. I discovered how much sugar was in the kefir I was drinking. I radically changed my diet and have been fine for months now. If a problem occurs I have the tools and knowledge to address it. Once again, I am able to annoy my brunch companions with my random ideas and going off at ridiculous tangents.

I went with one of my friends who has had to listen to tales of inflamed intestines on many occasions, to Foda (96A Front Street, Monkseaton, NE25 8DL). I had been thinking of going to The Feathers (It is an F not a T, stop twisting your face, thems the rules - I don't make them), so Foda kind of crept up on me unawares.

I grew up around the area – so wandered by Potter’s Farm, which isn’t there anymore; recalled my first foray into misadventure at West Monkseaton metro station and looked for the bakery which fed nine hungry high school lads massive Devonshire Split cakes every lunchtime… it isn’t there anymore. Pointed out where I asked Melanie Coxhall out and where Angela Gray broke my heart.

The food – I had French Toast. Totally unexpectedly, as I was in a shakshuka frame of mind. Also, I feel the need to confess that I get eggy bread mixed up with French Toast (as the great Chinese philosopher Confucius once said “eggy bread is savoury; French Toast is sweet”. Handy tip). It was so good – the bread was both golden crispy and custardy at the same time, surrounded by light meringue and unctuous (only time I use that word is on a food blog, I am from Shields after all) clotted cream with sweetly sharp strawberries. My friend had poached eggs, avocado and kimchi on toasted sourdough with sesame togarishi in a rayo oil dressing. While the kimchi may have been a little overpowering, the eggs and avo were, and I quote, spot on.

The place – in a world of closed down bakers and defunct paint shops, it’s lovely to see a place like Foda flourishing in Monkseaton. It is light and airy, they do loads of interesting things with eggs, have real attention to detail with the food and its presentation, and the staff were lovely and helpful.

The score – a ThankF**kforThattastic 80%

Breakfast tea and americano coffee accompanied the meal, with a glass of water which I never drink. I need to work out why I never do.

Next – Let’s hope we don’t wait another two years for what many people call… the letter G!!