Up until this weekend I have taken a ghoulish pleasure in reading reviews that really rip into inadequacies of restaurants, especially if the establishment concerned is on my list of “places to try”.
When we moved to West Sussex our landlord gave us a very useful fact sheet telling us where good local restaurants were situated and, generally, how they rated. Here were gems like JSW in Petersfield, which to me is one of the finest restaurants in England, and he also mentioned another Michelin-starred establishment in Emsworth called 36 On The Quay, but he wasn’t quite as warm in his praise. We put it on our list of “places to try”.
On Saturday Jan Moir reviewed 36 on the Quay in the Daily Telegraph Weekend section. In fact she did more than review the place, she castigated it. From the opening salvo “The woman behind the bar in 36 On The Quay looks up. Her expression is about as welcoming as a hole in the road…”, through the meal itself “all the dishes are moribund and pretentious, bogged down with rich sauces”, and even to the wine pouring “no-one seems happy in this house of misery by the sea, despite the waitress’s attempts to get as much wine down everyone’s neck as quickly as possible”, Ms Moir slashed her sword. How I enjoyed her piece, how I chortled with pleasure as her lunch (costing £50-£70 for two without drinks) went from bad to worse.
And yet, I thought later, what about the restaurant? It’s a family-run affair operating in a sleepy harbour, near Havant of all places, proud of their Michelin star and trying to make an honest living. Then they have a bad day. They’ve got a big wedding party to do and in sweeps this acid-tongued journalist. I guess that hundreds of thousands of people have read her piece (lead story on the back page), and one can only imagine the feelings of recrimination and anger amongst the restaurant owners and staff. Maybe we should give the place a try if only to cheer them up.
Today, two days later, Ms Moir is back in the Telegraph (page three news this time), condemning the purveyors of pre-prepared instant dinner party food in damning terms. “Louise screams when she sees the beef stroganoff: ‘It’s like two possums in the gutter; it’s like road kill’”. And so the owners of a number of small businesses doing their best to provide instant meals will be tearing their hair out today, rather than enjoying the Bank Holiday sunshine.
