Saturday, September 20, 2008

Shabby Chic, Shabby Service.

I'm not a fan of eating out on Saturday mornings. A roaring hangover isn't conducive to me being good company.
"Paul's recommended this place" [The Engineer in Primrose Hill], the food being "to die for". Well, I was on the verge of death before the food so this should have easy.
After suffering a bout of Byron's navigational skills, we found the place. Then the fun began.
"Do you have a reservation?" asked a very brusque foreign woman.
"Why, are you busy?" I countered. This was as 12.30 and with only six other punters in the place.
Not having any cash on me, I ordered drinks and gave the woman my card.
"Are you eating?" she asked.
"Yes".
"Do you have a reservation?" [here we go again].
So, having sorted out a reservation, which necessitates her having to go away and return with a scrappy bit of paper on which to write Byron's name, we opted to sit outside in the beer garden. "It's full" replied the clipboard Nazi. "OK, we'll sit inside".
"Fine. Come back when you're ready to eat and you can sit anywhere inside".
Nice to be given such a choice in such an empty pub.
Having "found" a seat, we were presented with the menu. It was then that I realised that this isn't a pub. It isn't even a gastro-pub, it's a restaurant masquerading as a pub.
From where we were sitting, I could see into the beer garden and thus the tattooed, pierced thing who seemed to be the matre'd jardin [tattoos seemingly a prerequisite of being a staff member].
The garden wasn't "full", it contained four people seated at to tables. The remaining eight + tables being empty. Set, but empty.
During the course of the meal, Mr tattoo / piercing turned away 22 people with the "Have you got a reservation" trick. Obviously, the David Furphy school of business management as the tables were still empty as we left, some ninety minutes later.
The service was snappy [meaning that the staff snapped [at us]] but it was fast too. Fast to the extent that I almost had to wrest the plate from the waitress, she wanting to clear it away while I was still eating.
My starter, Mackerel pate was fine, and the main course, Toad in the Hole, was just like mother used to make; burned and containing Wall's Pork and Beef sausages [89p per pack in Tesco]. At £12 odd, I thought it a bit [!] on the expensive side.
Next time we have to trek around the smarter establishments of North London, I want to go to Pizza Hut for the all you can eat buffet!

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1 Comments:

Blogger The Fatalist said...

Present 'virtual' company excepted what kind of wankers actually frequent these places? I accept my part of the blame, as old fashioned recovering alcoholics like me have stopped going into 'traditional working class dives' of boozers,thus hastening their demise! ;-)
Oh to win the lottery & bring a minibus full of my old mates from the Old Kent Road days to have a fry up here!

9:40 PM  

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