For a county with nearly seventy miles of coastline, there are surprisingly few venues with a sea view. Pretty much the whole of the south west coastline has nowhere punters can enjoy a bite to eat and a glass of something stimulating while contemplating the English Channel. Even the Island's northern shores have a dearth of coastal venues apart from a few isolated cafes and a prestigious hotel here and there.
If you want a guaranteed sight of the sea while you enjoy your supper you're best off heading eastside. In the olden days, Sandown and Shanklin were neighbouring resorts but the marketeers have conflated and rebranded the Island's favourite bucket-and-spade coastline as The Bay. Despite this arguably misguided attempt to put the sizzle in these venerable resorts' sausage, the beaches remain beautifully sandy and, sure as eggs is eggs, the tide continues to ebb and flow.
Like Sandown, Shanklin is a town of several parts - a high street elevated from the shore and an esplanade with typical seaside amenities and hotels. Shanklin also has the picturesque Old Village and the wonderful Chine, not to mention its very own Elvis Presley memorial.
Matt and Cat caught up with some old colleagues in the Waterfront Inn. With the lights of distant boats twinkling on the horizon, M&C and friends had dinner and a good old gossip. The Waterfront Inn has recently had a change of management. Has anything else altered in this popular eatery?
Remember those days when pubs were just places where we went to drink? A yellowing venue with a dart board, as much passive smoking as your heart and lungs could bear and, on his stool, a resident 'old boy'. The only pub grub was a packet of salted peanuts tugged from a card display, behind which was a picture of tousle-haired woman in a skimpy bikini.
If you search far enough it is still possible to find a good old-fashioned pub. Similarly, there are still some greasy spoon cafés around. This cousin of the boozer is often found in the vicinity of light industry, as evidenced by Matt and Cat's choices, Richies Diner and Tumblers. In their own manor, the rather hyperbolically-named Monkton Village, is the Happy Chef.
This is an archive review: the Tea Depot is closed.
There's a joke that's made on the Isle of Wight every March when the clocks change, which is: "Don't forget to put your clock forward - to 1952". Well, in East Cowes there's at least one person whose clock resolutely stopped somewhen in the mid-1940s.
In their first review of Mrs Jones Tea Depot, M&C made reference to the reality of life in the war years, as experienced by Cat's grandparents. It was pretty bleak existence, by Madge and Fred's reckoning. So, this time, Matt and Cat instead concentrate on the joy of life in the 1940s, as seen through the rose-tinted spectacles of vintage revivalists. An age of everyone knowing their neighbours, home baking and cheerful men in uniform. These homelier aspects are abundant in Mrs Jones' Tea Depot: a brace of squashy floral armchairs positioned either side of a fire, a mirrored hall stand decorated with veiled hats, and teapots kept warm under knitted cosies. You could almost hear the uplifting crackle of 'Workers' Playtime' on the Home Service.
Mrs Jones has cranked the vintage dial up to eleven - transforming the cafe's interior into your granny's mid-twentieth century parlour. Every surface both horizontal and vertical is adorned with topical artefacts. Photos of moustached men and laughing young women, propaganda posters, and mirrors suspended from chains steal focus as one's eyes dart about the room.
On a recent trip to Brighton, M&C were determined to try out as much interesting grub as the city had to offer.
Street food, pre-industrial fodder and neo-tapas were all on their hit list. At the time of their visit, Brighton's 64° was tipped to get a Michelin star (edit: alas not this time but it surely can't be long. However, Michelin saw fit to award its new Bib Gourmand rating in 2014). Because of its hot reputation M&C made every effort to get their feet in the door of this newish venue. Clearly exceedingly popular, Matt and Cat leapt at the chance to take the last remaining booking of the weekend - a six-thirty slot that presumably The Beautiful People thought unfashionably early. Lucky for M&C then.
64° had garnered some impressive column inches in the nationals and, when undertaking their research, Matt and Cat sat open-mouthed at the prospect of "mash that elevates the potato to hero status", "the most exciting thing to hit Brighton for years", and "astonishingly good tongue as you've never had it before". The food and the venue seemed determinedly unconventional - so was it to be playful and delicious fun, or a pile of tripe?
The J D Wetherspoon chain is to pubs what Lidl is to supermarkets. Once decried, the opening of a Spoons was seen as part of the erosion of the traditional English town pub; driving down standards and cheapening neighbourhoods. These days, the sneerers have gone very quiet. Like Lidl and stablemate Aldi, the middle classes have learnt to love the rock-bottom prices and entirely predictable offerings.
The opening of the Man in the Moon pub is a case in point. Newport's second Wetherspoon's opened in spring 2014 in what had been for years a decaying former church, to almost universal acclaim. At one point demolition seemed a likely outcome for the old church. But no - along came J D Wetherspoon and performed a spectacularly sensitive conversion on the building, making it one of the most characterful and well-appointed venues in the town. And it was here that Matt and Cat were invited to attend a works Christmas dinner - for once, the choice of dining venue was not in their hands. Paying their deposits and choosing from the menu weeks in advance, they duly joined merry colleagues from the corporate salt mine. Clad in Christmas jumpers and novelty hats they tottered along to see what Wetherspoon's had to offer by way of a festive meal.