At H Brettell & Sons Ltd
Rob Brettell, fifth generation in the family wood-turning business
Contributing Photographer Alex Pink & I made a trip over to Forest Gate recently to visit H Brettell & Sons Ltd, one of the East End’s most venerable wood working companies, founded in 1830 in Haggerston by Henry Brettell, a descendant of a long line of Huguenot cabinet makers.
“What I am known for is square wood turning,” announced Rob Brettell – the current incumbent – once he had led us through the large and picturesque ramshackle factory, with ivy growing through the roof, and up into the loft where he stores the precious examples of his handiwork. At first, I thought Rob might be having me on, as I always understood that wood turning was – by its very nature – round. Yet I discovered I was mistaken, as Rob produced finely-turned banisters and spindles that were square – it was a style I recognised from seventeenth century staircases. “Everyone asks how we do it?” he informed me before I had the chance to open my mouth, “but I’m not going to tell you.”
Unable to pursue this line of enquiry, I commented upon the extravagant greenery intruding through the ceiling. “We call that the hanging gardens of Brettells,” Rob quipped amiably, casting his restless eye around the stockroom and lifting a mallet with a disproportionally long handle, rather like a polo stick. It was a hammer for beating out copper stills in the distilling industry, I learnt. Grabbing an ash stake of arcane design that appeared to be an oar without a paddle, Rob explained that this was a lever used by the Ministry of Defence for prising heavy cargo out of aeroplanes, giving us a vivid demonstration.
Boxes of handmade mallets, shiny and round, drew our attention next and took Rob back to his childhood. “I started at nine in my school holidays,” he admitted to me, “sweeping up the woodchips and banging mallets together, for pocket money. At twelve, I was turning spindles but I had to stand on a box to set up the rotary knife.” The lathe that Rob learned on was acquired by the company in 1916 and is still in use today.
Before the use of plastic became widespread, there was hardly any endeavour that did not require a product made by Brettells. Jewellers used beech handled engraving tools, sat upon traditional three-legged stools and filed rings on wooden bench pegs. Glass merchants cut glass with diamond-tipped cutters in rosewood handles. Brewers used rattan long-handled floggers. The Royal Navy platted rope with Lignum Vitae fids. The Post Office used boxwood date stamps. Pubs had beech lemon boards and rosewood beer pump handles. Judges had wig stands. Morticians used mallets. Wilkinson’s needed sword scabbards. Ronson required lighter bases. And so it went on.
The first Henry Brettell began making tool handles out of scrap timber acquired from the sawmill, where he had workshop in the corner of the yard, in Haggerston. In 1912, his son who was also called Henry, bought a former bakery in Teesdale St, Bethnal Green. Manufacturing for the Ministry of Defence in two wars, Brettells thrived by producing chair legs and table legs throughout the twentieth century. Moving to Forest Gate after the Teesdale St factory was compulsorily purchased for demolition in the fifties, Brettells acquired more rotary lathes and moved over towards the production of stair parts as the furniture industry waned. Today their work is increasingly bespoke, turning spindles to order and specialising in elaborate serpentine wooden hand rails and scrolls created with an expertise no-one else can match.
“I think I’m very lucky – I enjoy working and doing stuff that most people can’t do,” Rob confessed to me proudly, “I have an appetite for a challenge, I say ‘yes’ to a job and then I have to work out how to do it. I can do anything except make a lot of money.”
Henry Brettell who founded the company around 183o, pictured with his second son Will – “They used to throw chisels each other in competition over who would take over the company from their father”
Ellen, Henry junior, James and Henry Brettell senior
Henry James Brettell “Everyone’s got all their fingers here, except grandfather”
Goldstein Hand Turning Lathe
James Bretell
Rob Brettell – “What I am known for is square wood turning”
Square-turned spindles
New photographs copyright © Alex Pink
H Brettell & Sons Ltd, 20-24 Chestnut Avenue, Forest Gate, E7 OJH
You may also like to read about
Discovering the sixteenth century figures of Old King Lud & his sons recently, that once stood upon Ludgate yet are now forgotten in an alley of Fleet St, made me think more closely of the gates that once surrounded the City of London.
So I was delighted to come upon this eighteenth century print in the Spitalfields Market for a couple of pounds with the plangent title “The City Gates As They Appeared Before They Were Torn Down.”
Printed in 1775, this plate recorded venerable edifices that had been demolished in recent decades and was reproduced in Harrison’s History of London, a publication notable for featuring Death and an Hourglass upon the title page as if to emphasise the mutable, ever-changing nature of the capital and the brief nature of our residence in it.
Moorgate (demolished 1761)
Aldgate (demolished 1761)
Bishopsgate (demolished 1760)
Cripplegate (demolished 1760)
Ludgate (demolished 1760)
Newgate (demolished 1767)
Aldersgate (demolished 1617)
Bridgegate (demolished 1762)
The City Gates As They Appeared Before They Were Torn Down, engraved for Harrison’s History of London 1775
Sixteenth century figures of King Lud and his sons that formerly stood upon Ludgate, and stowed ever since in an alley at the side of St Dunstan in the West, Fleet St
You may also like to take a look at
Catalogue Of Destruction
Bulldozers move in on the Queen Elizabeth Children’s Hospital
Recently – as I walked down Cheshire St – I discovered a great hole on the south side, where the week before there had been an unbroken run of nineteenth century buildings between Brick Lane and the Pedley St bridge.
Meanwhile, demolition of the much-loved Queen Elizabeth Children’s Hospital in Hackney Rd has commenced, in preparation for replacing it with a disproportionate building of inferior design that has been approved without any significant public consultation. Later this year in Spitalfields, we also anticipate the demolition of the Fruit & Wool Exchange – against the unanimous wishes of the local council in a scheme pushed through by Mayor of London, Boris Johnson.
Yet this is only the beginning of the destruction that is impending because, like a hungry dog taking bites from a cake, great chunks of the East End are vanishing fast. So I asked Contributing Photographer Simon Mooney to make a survey of just a few of the buildings that are being destroyed, under threat of imminent demolition, or at risk, to highlight the crisis that is at hand.
All around us, characterful nineteenth or early-twentieth century buildings, constructed of brick and stone with featured craft elements, are being replaced with low-quality generic structures designed to maximise profit, to the detriment both of the environment and the quality of life for those destined to inhabit them. Most disappointing is to see proud nineteenth century edifices which embody social purpose replaced by cheap-jack commercial developments that erase the memory of past altruistic endeavour.
Only the facade of the Queen Elizabeth Children’s Hospital will survive in a monster development pushed through without any significant public consultation.
Sunflower frieze upon the oldest part of the hospital constructed in 1874
Georgian terrace in Sun St currently being demolished after years of neglect with only the facade retained
Neglected window frames and fascias in Sun St
When the demolition starts shortly, the Gun pub will be destroyed and the central part of this facade is all that will remain of the Spitalfields Fruit & Wool Exchange designed by in 1927 by Sydney Perks
The new development will replace both Fruit & Wool Exchange and the multi-storey carpark behind
The brick work of the Fruit & Wool Exchange harmonises with the Spitalfields Market next door
In Toynbee St, a terrace of shops with workshops above neglected for decades by Tower Hamlets Council. A consultation for redevelopment, replacing these with a much larger building that straddles the site as far as Commercial St, took place in 2011
Silwex House, Quaker St. A remarkable nineteenth century stable and horse depot containing horse lifts descending to the railway line at the rear
Travelodge is currently undertaking consultation to reduce this building to a facade with a large hotel of generic design behind it. Planning application will be submitted imminently. Click here to see the proposal
113-114 Bethnal Green Rd, a rare pair of eighteenth century weavers’ houses that have suffered many years of neglect
Dignified nineteeth century furniture factory that has been left to rot in Great Eastern St
Warehouses of 1878 in Blossom St destined for demolition as part of a huge development by British Land that will consume this entire block if it goes ahead
Eighteenth and nineeenth century terrace in Bishopsgate threatened by the British Land scheme
The former Nicholls & Clarke art deco showroom in Bishopsgate is at risk
London Chest Hospital is to be sold to developers
Photographs copyright © Simon Mooney
Follow the East End Preservation Society
Facebook/eastendpsociety
Twitter/eastendpsociety
Click here to join the East End Preservation Society
You may also like to take a look at
Remembering The Queen Elizabeth Children’s Hospital
So Long, Spitalfields Fruit & Wool Exchange
Come To Bob Mazzer’s UNDERGROUND!
Less than a year ago, I published the work of an unknown photographer by the name of Bob Mazzer, yet the response to his extraordinary pictures from the hundreds of thousands of readers who have seen them in these pages has now brought him widespread acclaim.
As a result of this huge wave of enthusiasm, and the personal generosity of a number of Spitalfields Life readers in particular, we are able to publish a magnificent large-format two hundred page hardback of Bob’s tube photography entitled UNDERGROUND for £20, coinciding with the opening of his debut London exhibition at the Howard Griffin Gallery, 189 Shoreditch High St.
Please join me in a celebration of this glorious moment, because I want you to be the first to see the show.
Come to the launch of Bob’s book and the opening of his exhibition on Thursday 12th June from 6-9pm. On the night, you can visit the Howard Griffin Gallery – which has been fitted with tube seats in anticipation of the event – and join Bob in the covered yard next door where he will signing books and we will be serving complimentary Truman’s Beer.
To add to the festivities on this tremendous night, buskers and street performers will be performing.
CLICK HERE TO ORDER A COPY OF BOB MAZZER’S UNDERGROUND FOR £20
You may also like to read about
Another Fireplace Of John Moyr Smith Tiles
You may recall that over the course of 2011, I collected enough Minton tiles designed by the nineteenth century artist John Moyr Smith to tile the fireplace in my living room – many were cracked or broken but that suited both my budget and my purpose. Now I have opened the fireplace in my bedroom, which was previously bricked-up, and so the process has begun all over again.
I love his lyricism, sly humour and the absurd mixture of stories that Moyr Smith chose to illustrate in his tiles, and I am attracted to the notion that they will be the last thing I see before I fall asleep. If anyone can help me find more please get in touch.
Here are the beginnings of my new collection – not sure my pet, Mr P, will approve of the last in this series. I shall place it discreetly at the back of the fireplace lest it alarm him.
Aesop’s Fables – The Fox & The Goat In The Well
Jack & Jill Went Up The Hill
Cymbeline – Iachimo Climbs From The Trunk In Imogen’s Bed Chamber
Julius Caesar Lands In Britain
Richard Coeur de Lion & Bertrand de Gourdon AD1199
Aesop’s Fables – The Tortoise Which Wished to Learn To Fly
King Harold Wounded At The Battle Of Hastings 1066
Winter – The Snow Storm
Aesop’s Fables – King Log & King Stork
Grimm’s Fairy Tales – Rumpelstiltskin
King Edward The Martyr
Aesop’s Fables – The Ape, Cat & The Roast Nuts
You may also like to read about
George Dodd’s Spitalfields, 1842
George Dodd came to Spitalfields to write this account for Charles Knight’s LONDON published in 1842. Dodds recalls the rural East End that still lingered in the collective memory and described the East End of weavers living in ramshackle timber and plaster dwellings which in his century would be “redeveloped” out of existence by the rising tide of brick terraces, erasing the history that existed before.
Spitalfields Market
It is not easy to express a general idea respecting Spitalfields as a district. There is a parish of that name but this parish contains a small portion only of the silk weavers and it is probable that most persons apply the term Spitalfields to the whole district where the weavers reside. In this enlarged acceptation, we will lay down something like a boundary in the following manner – begin at Shoreditch Church and proceed along the Hackney Rd till it is intersected by Regent’s Canal, follow the course of the canal to Mile End Rd and then proceed westward through Whitechapel to Aldgate, through Houndsditch to Bishopsgate, and thence northward to where the tour commenced.
This boundary encloses an irregularly-shaped district in which nearly the whole of the weavers reside and these weavers are universally known as “Spitalfields” weavers. Indeed, the entire district is frequently called Spitalfields although including large portions of Bethnal Green, Shoreditch, Whitechapel and Mile End New Town. By far the larger portion of this extensive district was open fields until comparatively modern times. Bethnal Green was really a green and Spitalfields was covered with grassy sward in the last century.
It may now not unreasonably be asked, what is “Spitalfields”? A street called Crispin St on the western side of Spitalfields Market is nearly coincident in position with the eastern wall of the Old Artillery Ground and this wall separated the Ground from the Fields which stretched out far eastward. Great indeed is the change which this portion of the district has undergone. Rows of houses, inhabited by weavers and other humble persons, and pent up far too close for the maintenance of health, now cover the green spot now known as Spitalfields.
In the evidence taken before a Committee in the House of Commons on the silk trade in 1831-2, it was stated that the population of the district in which the Spitalfields weavers resided could be no less at that time than one hundred thousand, of whom fifty thousand were entirely dependent on the silk manufacture and remaining moiety more or less dependent indirectly. The number of looms seems to vary between about fourteen to seventeen thousand and, of these, four to five thousand are unemployed in times of depression. It seems probable, as far as the means exist of determining it, that the weavers are principally English or of English origin. To the masters, however the same remark does not apply, for the names of the partners in the firms now existing, point to the French origin of manufacture in that district.
A characteristic employment or amusement of the Spitalfields weavers is the catching of birds. This is principally carried on in the months of March and October. They train “call-birds” in the most peculiar manner and there is an odd sort of emulation between them as to which of their birds will sing the longest, and the bird-catchers frequently lay considerable wagers on this, as that determines their superiority. They place them opposite each other by the width of a candle and the bird who sings the oftenest before the candle is burnt out wins the wager.
If we have, on the one hand, to record the unthrifty habits and odd propensities of the weavers, let us not forget to do them justice in other matters. In passing through Crispin St, adjoining the Spitalfields Market, we see on the western side of the way a humble building, bearing much the appearance of a weaver’s house and having the words “Mathematical Society” written up in front. Lowly and inelegant the building may be but there is a pleasure in seeing Science rear her head in a locality, even if it is humble one.
A ramble through Bethnal Green and Mile End New Town in which the weavers principally reside, presents us with many curious features illustrative of the peculiarities of the district. Proceeding through Crispin St to the Spitalfields Market, the visitor will find some of the usual arrangements of a vegetable market but potatoes, sold wholesale, form the staple commodity. He then proceeds eastwards to the Spitalfields Church, one of the “fifty new churches” built in the reign of Queen Anne and along Church St to Brick Lane. If he proceed northward up the latter, he will arrive, first, at the vast premises of Truman, Hanbury & Buxton’s brewery, and then at the Eastern Counties Railway which crosses the street at a considerable elevation. If he extends his steps eastwards, he will at once enter upon the districts inhabited by the weavers.
On passing through most of the streets, a visitor is conscious of a noiselessness, a dearth of bustle and activity. The clack of the looms is heard here and there, but not to a noisy degree. It is evident in a glance that many of the streets, all the houses were built expressly for weavers, and in walking through them we noticed the short and unhealthy appearance of the inhabitants. In one street, we met with a barber’s shop in which persons could have “a good wash for a farthing.” Here we espied a school at which children were taught “to read and work at tuppence a week.” There was a chandler’s shop at which shuttles, reeds and quills, and the smaller parts of weaving apparatus were exposed for sale in a window in company with split-peas, bundles of wood and red herrings. In one little shop, patchwork was sold at 10d, 12d and 16d a pound. At another place was a bill from the parish authorities, warning the inhabitants that they were liable to a penalty if their dwelling were kept dirty and unwholesome, and in another – we regretted this more than anything else – astrological predictions, interpretations of dreams and nativities, were to be purchased “from three pence upwards.”
In very many of the houses, the windows numbered more sheets of paper than panes of glass and no considerable number of houses were shut up altogether. We would willingly present a brighter picture, but ours is a copy from the life.
Pelham St (now Woodseer St), Spitalfields
Booth St (now Princelet St), Spitalfields
Images courtesy © Bishopsgate Insitute
Justin Gellatly’s Doughnut Recipe
Some time ago, I became hooked by the baking of Justin Gellatly (especially his sourdough bread, eccles cakes, custard tarts, hot cross buns, mince pies and doughnuts) and, over the years, I have written many stories charting his ascendancy. So it is my great pleasure to publish Justin’s recipe for doughnuts today, celebrating the rise of an heroic baker upon the publication of his first book, succinctly titled, BREAD, CAKE, DOUGHNUT, PUDDING.
Justin & Louise Gellatly
“I started making my doughnuts while working at St John Restaurant over ten years ago and, if I say so myself, they have become a bit legendary. Once you’ve had my doughnuts there is no going back.
I normally keep the fillings quite classic – custard, jam, lemon curd and apple cinnamon. But I have been developing many new flavours for this book, like my most fought-over one, the caramel custard with salted honeycomb sprinkle, which has become a bit of a signature for me, and another that I launched at Glastonbury, the violet custard with sugared violets and Parma violet sprinkle.
As in my bread recipes, I always weigh the water when I’m making doughnuts, it’s a lot more accurate than using a measuring jug.
I would recommend using a deep-fat fryer (you can pick up a Breville 3 litre one for about £30), which is a lot safer than a pan of hot oil. Either way, PLEASE be careful when using hot oil – I have had many burns and it’s really not very nice.
You will also need an electric mixer such as a Kenwood or KitchenAid, and if you don’t have a deep-fat fryer (which will have an integral thermometer) you will need a good digital thermometer to check that the oil is at the right temperature.
You can try out your own fillings by using the recipe for crème patissière and just folding in your additional filling of choice, but I am not a fan of the savoury doughnuts that are popping up in a few places.”
THE DOUGHNUT DOUGH
Makes about 20 doughnuts (about 1kg dough)
Preparation time: 45 minutes, plus proving and overnight chilling
Cooking time: 4 minutes per doughnut, fried in batches; about 30–40 minutes total
FOR THE DOUGH
500g strong white bread flour
60g caster sugar
10g fine sea salt
15g fresh yeast, crumbled
4 eggs
zest of 1⁄2 lemon
150g water
125g softened unsalted butter
FOR COOKING
about 2 litres sunflower oil, for deep-frying
FOR TOSSING
caster sugar
INSTRUCTIONS
Put all the dough ingredients apart from the butter into the bowl of an electric mixer with a beater attachment and mix on a medium speed for 8 minutes, or until the dough starts coming away from the sides and forms a ball.
Turn off the mixer and let the dough rest for 1 minute.Take care that your mixer doesn’t overheat – it needs to rest as well as the dough!
Start the mixer up again on a medium speed and slowly add the butter to the dough – about 25g at a time. Once it is all incorporated, mix on high speed for 5 minutes, until the dough is glossy, smooth and very elastic when pulled, then cover the bowl with cling film and leave to prove until it has doubled in size. Knock back the dough, then re-cover the bowl and put into the fridge to chill overnight.
The next day, take the dough out of the fridge and cut it into 50g pieces (you should get about 20). Roll them into smooth, taut, tight buns and place them on a floured baking tray, leaving plenty of room between them as you don’t want them to stick together while they prove. Cover lightly with cling film and leave for about 4 hours, or until about doubled in size.
Get your deep-fat fryer ready, or get a heavy-based saucepan and fill it up to the halfway point with rapeseed oil (please be extremely careful, as hot oil is very dangerous). Heat the oil to 180°C.
When the oil is heated to the correct temperature, carefully remove the doughnuts from the tray by sliding a floured pastry scraper underneath them, taking care not to deflate them, and put them into the oil. Do not overcrowd the fryer – do 2–3 per batch, depending on the size of your pan. Fry for 2 minutes on each side until golden brown – they puff up and float, so you may need to gently push them down after about a minute to help them colour evenly. Remove from the fryer and place on kitchen paper, then toss them in a bowl of caster sugar while still warm. Repeat until all are fried, BUT make sure the oil temperature is correct every time before you fry – if it is too high they will colour too quickly and burn, and will be raw in the middle, and if it is too low the oil will be absorbed into the doughnut and it will become greasy. Set aside to cool before filling.
To fill the doughnuts, make a hole in the crease of each one (anywhere around the white line between the fried top and bottom). Fill a piping bag with your desired filling and pipe into the doughnut until swollen with pride. Roughly 20–50g is the optimum quantity, depending on the filling; cream will be less, because it is more aerated. You can fit in more than this, but it doesn’t give such a good balance of dough to filling.
The doughnuts are best eaten straight away, but will keep in an airtight tin and can be reheated to refresh them.
CUSTARD (CRÈME PATISSÈRIE)
Makes about 900g (45g filling each for 20 doughnuts)
Preparation time: 20 minutes
Cooking time: 5 minutes
1 vanilla pod
500ml full fat milk
6 egg yolks
125g caster sugar, plus an extra 2 tablespoons
80g plain flour
200ml double cream
Slit the vanilla pod open lengthways and scrape out the seeds. Put both pod and seeds into a heavy-based saucepan with the milk and bring slowly just to the boil, to infuse the vanilla.
Meanwhile place the egg yolks and the 125g of sugar in a bowl and mix together for a few seconds, then sift in the flour and mix again.
Pour the just-boiling milk over the yolk mixture, whisking constantly to prevent curdling, then return the mixture to the saucepan. Cook over a medium heat, whisking constantly for about 5 minutes, until very thick.
Pass through a fine sieve, discarding the vanilla, and place a sheet of cling film on the surface of the custard to prevent a skin forming. Leave to cool, then refrigerate.
Whip the cream and the 2 tablespoons of sugar together until thick but not over-whipped and fold into the chilled custard.
HOW I FIRST DISCOVERED JUSTIN GELLATLY’S DOUGHNUTS
October 2009
In the past, I was never that crazy about doughnuts and though I can appreciate the pop sensibility of Dunkin Donuts and Krispy Kremes that I encountered in America with their infinite permutations of sprinkles and coloured icings, I never wanted to eat them.
Disenchantment set in at an early age. From the works of Richmal Crompton and other favourite childrens’ authors, I learnt that doughnuts were something completely delicious that all children loved to eat, but then my expectations were crushed once I actually tasted one. It was horrible, a greasy sticky lump of sponge filled with synthetic cream and a squirt of sickly red syrup at its heart. Like Proust with his madeleine, I can remember it now, only I should rather forget.
But then last week as I was buying my daily loaf at St John Bread & Wine in Commercial St, one of the waiters dropped a hint that Justin Gellatly was baking doughnuts at the weekend and my curiosity was piqued. I decided – in the interests of keeping an open mind – to give doughnuts a second shot. On Sunday on the dot of ten, opening time, I was there at St John to inspect the doughnuts, a pile of freshly baked custard-filled ones nestling together like eggs in a basket. Even as I paid for mine, another customer arrived and went straight for the doughnuts, so I knew something was up.
Once I got home, it all went into slow motion. The world dissolved as I bit into my doughnut and the intensity of the moment of consummation exploded to fill my consciousness entirely. In that first bite, there was the delicate nutty flavour of the outside mingling with the feathery sponge of the inside and then both of these mixed with the rush of delicious custard. It wasn’t too sweet, and the texture of the sponge was ideally contrasted with both the sugary exterior and the creamy custard interior.
Then I woke, as if from a dream, the world came back to me and I realised my face and hands were covered in sugar. Now I understand what all the fuss was about. Now I know, this is what doughnuts should be like!
[youtube XVdNs8cNcj4 nolink]
Visit Justin’s bakery – Bread Ahead (Bakery & Baking School), Cathedral St, SE1, with Borough Market Stall from Monday to Saturday
Read some of my other stories about Justin Gellatly
Night in the Bakery at St John
