Big fish (tin), little fish (tin), cardboard pot (of beans)

It was my birthday this Friday just gone. I had the day off work, so I treated myself to a brunch out in a posh department store.

Or, in other words, I went to the Heinz Pop-Up in Selfridges Food Hall that I mentioned in a recent post. I had a cardboard pot of beanz, opting for a topping of ham hock (scrambled egg and bacon were also available) and plenty of cheese. And very tasty it was too.

There on display was one of the 50 collectable tins signed by Maurice Drake, who created the Benaz Meanz Heinz slogan back in 1967. The other 49 will not be on sale until later in the month.




There were however plenty of the limited edition "Beanz Meanz [insert plural word with a 'z' at the end instead of the s]" tins. It turns out there are 50 different ones you can buy, if you so wish, including Eggz, Chipz, Cheez, Spudz, Bangerz, Fry-Upz, Cafez, Morningz, Breakfatz, Brunchez, Dinz, Broz, Sisterz, Mumz, Dadz, Kidz, Famz, Galz, Matez, Chatz, Chillz, Comfortz, Storiez, Recipez, Laughz, Smilez, Britz, Yummz and so on. I particularly liked 'Studentz' and 'Sloganz'. But in terms of which one to buy, frankly there was only one choice for me.

"Beanz Meanz Tinz" - yes indeed, to me they really do. OK, so this was actually somewhat pricey at £2 when you consider you can usually pick up a tin of Heinz Beanz for a quarter of that, but it's limited edition, and all the proceeds are going to the Ideas Foundation, a charity that aims to inspire the next generation of creatives into the industry, so I felt it was worth it. And anyway, when it's your birthday, Beanz Meanz Lack of Regard For Such Matterz.



Being back on Oxford Street reminded me of some other tin-based antics I'd had there last year, way back in June, which obviously I had neglected to write about. I had happened to be in the food hall of another department store - John Lewis this time - where a tin of tuna caught my eye. In part this was due to the bright colours and striking typeface used by the company, Ortiz, on their rather smart, high-end tins of premium white tuna. But it was also caused by the label on the shelf, showing the price of the tin - a staggering £50.

It wasn't just the price that was whopping though - the tin was too. The photo below shows it with a standard-sized tin of tuna for scale. It even dwarfs a Fray Bentos Pie Tin, which previously had been the largest tin I had ever come across.

The contents of the tin alone was 1825g (1400g when drained), but obviously the fairly hefty amount of metal made it significantly heavier. That does work out a fair bit cheaper by weight than the standard tin (£3.57 per 100g, compared to £4.45), but I'm not quite sure why anyone would have need for that much tuna. It would look nice on a shelf though. Thankfully, it wasn't my birthday, so I didn't feel inclined to splurge on that occasion.

I moved on towards Marble Arch for the main purpose of my excursion - a visit to a hidden pop-up rooftop cocktail bar called Notch, which I'd read about in Time Out. To be honest it's not the sort of place I would generally go to - I'd opt for a pint of ale in an old man pub over a trendy hipster hangout any day of the week. But I had a special interest in this one, as apparently the bar served its cocktails in tins. But not just emptied, washed-out tins filled with ice and booze, like a number of other bars have taken to doing recently. Instead, these cocktails were made in advance and then sealed into small tuna-style tins, to be opened by the drinker themselves. I felt I ought to investigate.

I eventually managed to find the very inconspicuous entrance, and was shown to some slightly grotty-looking stairs by a burly bouncer. I ascended four or five flights, not entirely sure if I was actually in the right place - until I came face-to-face with this mural on one of the landings:

Reassured by the pun, I proceeded out onto the rooftop to find, to my delight, a place not heaving with hipsters, but an almost deserted bar under a canvas canopy, with most of the seating area out in the open air.
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It was relatively early evening on a disappointingly grey, chilly day for June, which clearly had worked in my favour. There was no difficulty at all in getting a table to myself that gave a nice view of the bustling street below.

The three 'tuna can cocktails' on offer were a Negroni (gin, Campari and Cinzano Rosso), a 'Turkey' Old Fashioned (Wild Turkey Bourbon, sugar and bitters), and an Adonis (Cinzano Rosso, sherry and bitters). I do like a good Negroni, so that was definitely the choice for me. I ordered at the bar and returned to my seat with glass and tin (which instead of a Best Before date had "Best After 10am" on the label), prised back the ring-pull, poured, and sipped.

It was a good Negroni - perfectly hitting the spot, bucking the trend of horrendously oversweet cocktails with its delicious bitterness. But I couldn't help but wonder why on earth it had come in a tuna tin. I suppose it meant that the bar staff didn't need to be taking lots of time to make a cocktail when serving each customer - a big batch could be made up in advance of the bar opening, and then sealed into the tins, effectively employing the kind of mass production techniques used by food manufacturers. Not that the bar was passing on any money it might be saving to its customers though - at £8 for a very small tin (100ml), you couldn't say it was a cheap cocktail. Given that they were being served still sealed, I suppose you could have bought a few tins to takeaway, but then again when you're paying for a drink in a rooftop bar, you're probably going to want to enjoy it there and then, basking in the views and the sun (when available).

I think more than anything else the tins were just a bit of a gimmick - something to get the Instagrammers and Twitterers posting pictures of their novelty tinned cocktails, hopefully inspiring their friends and followers to go along and try the bar too.

I like to think I'm bucking that trend by writing about my visit 10 months later, long after the place has closed. So if you fancy a tuna tin cocktail, I'm afraid it's too late. Maybe they will open up again this summer. Until then though, why not try a different kind of tinned cocktail instead? To go back briefly to the "Beanz Meanz Heinz" celebrations, I saw the recipe below earlier this week, in an article in Stylist magazine celebrating the slogan's anniversary, which asked various chefs to give their take on how to upgrade what they called the 'ultimate comfort food'. Most of them chucked in chorizo, cheese and so on, but bartender and author Ryan Chetiyawardana took the beans in a very different direction:

"This drink is called a 'Tin Opener', an aperitif using the citrus brightness of Tanqueray 10 gin in a crisp sour, with the tang of Heinz beans balancing it out. Muddle one teaspoon of baked beans (shake off some of the sauce so there's not too much liquid) in the bottom of a cocktail shaker and add 35ml Tanqueray 10, 10ml Creme de Peche, 20ml lemon juice, 10ml sweet vermouth, 5ml honey water, 5ml Peychaud bitters and 25ml egg white. Shake without ice, add cubed ice and shake again. Double strain into a chilled coupette and garnish with a strip of celery and a discarded lemon twist."

Hmmm...it might be ok, I suppose, but somehow I don't think Heinz will be rushing to add a "Beanz Meanz Cocktailz" tin to their collection just yet...