{"id":49,"date":"2009-06-13T10:03:00","date_gmt":"2009-06-13T10:03:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.jamesramsden.com\/2009\/06\/13\/restau-rant"},"modified":"2009-06-13T10:03:00","modified_gmt":"2009-06-13T10:03:00","slug":"restau-rant","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.jamesramsden.com\/2009\/06\/13\/restau-rant\/","title":{"rendered":"Restau-Rant"},"content":{"rendered":"

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\nI never set out to be a ranter, I really didn\u2019t. I think it\u2019s a bit of a cop out, a little bit lazy \u2013 a biased, subjective way of addressing something while being vaguely amusing and controversial at the same time. Kick off with an exasperated intro \u00e0 la<\/span> Jeremy Clarkson \u2013 Can you believe the state of the bloody underground? I literally can\u2019t believe it, can you believe it?<\/span> (Note use of rhetorical question to draw the reader in). Then develop the theme with some highly topical and highly predictable similes that contain some awfully shocking profanity or other \u2013 those tube drivers are as lazy as an MP that employs a Pole to feed their ducks and then charge it to their bl**dy expense account<\/span>. Then rant, rant, rant, file, and go to pub (where there is no doubt something else to whinge about).
\nBut some things do need saying. Spleen needs venting; bees need releasing from bonnets, ants from pants, snakes from boots. As a sort of precursor to my upcoming comprehensive, and somewhat valedictory, guide to eating in Bristol, there are a few things about restaurants that I need to get off my chest, mainly because I simply do not have the balls to make a fuss at the time. I don\u2019t personally think there is any superciliousness here, nor do I think these are complaints that I alone have. But let me know if you think I\u2019m way off the mark here, and I\u2019ll retreat back into my nest of simmering resto-resentment.<\/p>\n

1) How often do you receive a fairly passable burger or sandwich or whatever, perhaps with some decent chips, but accompanied by the most depressing pile of dry salad you\u2019ve ever laid eyes on? Way<\/span> too often. Dress. The. F**king. Salad. Please. Surely it is obvious to whoever has produced this leg-side dross that this is a culinary abomination. If you, Monsieur le Chef, can come into the dining room, look me in the eye, and say \u201cI think salad is nicer undressed\u201d then fine, I\u2019ll let this one slide. But come on, there is more chance of Gordon Brown resigning than there is of you believing that, and your refusal (and I am talking to a large percentage of cooks\/chefs of the caf\u00e9\/pub\/bistro ilk) to try to make this sorry heap of iceberg lettuce, sliced pepper and tinned sweetcorn taste at all edible simply shows that you do not care<\/span>. It\u2019s a very small thing, I know, but if a chef is firing something out of his kitchen that he is not 100% happy with then something is seriously wrong.
\n2) Vegetables suffer from the same ignominy in these places, pubs in particular. If I\u2019ve just paid \u00a312 for roast lamb, how dare you send it with a soggy roast potato that\u2019s been sitting in the warming oven for hours, and a few lame pieces of carrot, broccoli and cauliflower that have been cooked with about as much love as, oh I don\u2019t know \u2013 Ronaldo for Fergie? Gordon for Hazel? Morrissey for a big ol\u2019 T-bone? Just a little salt and pepper please chef, maybe some melted butter \u2013 would a sprig of parsley be too much to ask? If the answer to this is \u2018yes\u2019, then you should take off your toque, hang up your jacket and throw in the tea towel, because you do not belong in a kitchen. You clearly do not understand food.
\nIf you, reader, can name one vegetable that is not improved by a little salt and pepper, or a little oil and vinegar, then I\u2019ll take you out for dinner. But I think my money is safe. Such a miraculous thing does not exist.
\n3) \u2018Discretionary 12.5% Service Charge\u2019. All too bloody discreet most of the time. A A Gill has already had a pretty big go at this one, so I\u2019ll leave this particular flag in his very capable hands. I do not possess the minerals to send the bill back when restaurants do this, like he does, but I do now insist on paying the bill to the penny, maybe even a penny short. That\u2019ll show \u2018em.
\n4) Menu spelling. Real head in hands stuff, this. For one thing, you run the risk of sounding like an absolute arsehead if you are going to insist on using the French or Italian name when the English one will suffice. Spell it wrong, however, and you are in the running for \u2018Arsehead of the Year\u2019. I\u2019m pretty happy not to correct a restaurant that offers ravioli<\/span> (plural) and then appears with a single raviolo<\/span>, because in English that\u2019s pretty much what it has come to mean. Ditto on the panini<\/span> front (though some horribly pedantic part of me always insists on ordering a panino<\/span> \u2013 I mean, you\u2019d chuckle if you heard an Italian asking for a sandwiches, wouldn\u2019t you?), but I just can\u2019t help but make a kneejerk judgement about a place that serves pollo alla parmiggano<\/span>, or confit de cannard<\/span>. Come on. Oh, and if you ever correct my pronunciation of bruschetta<\/span> (hard \u2018k\u2019) and tell me it\u2019s bruscetta<\/span> (soft \u2018sh\u2019) I\u2019ll rip your tongue out. It\u2019s one thing to get it wrong yourself, it\u2019s quite another to try and correct somebody\u2019s already correct pronunciation.
\n5) Water. If you bring a bottle of mineral water when the patron has asked for a jug, you\u2019re liable to find that bottle smashed over the back of your head. It is daylight robbery, pure and simple, and underhand at that. If they ask for a glass of Prosecco is it acceptable to bring a bottle of Bollinger? Clearly not. If they order the vegetarian risotto and a side salad, is it OK to bring lobster and chips? Hell no! (Well, I probably wouldn\u2019t complain too vehemently). But seriously, why the frig do people let this go so often? It\u2019s abominable behaviour, and must stop.<\/p>\n

Oh God there are hundreds of others, but most of them petty and pernickety. The five above are the main offenders, on the whole, and ones that I think most people will sympathise with. That said, I\u2019d love to hear others, and specific stories too, because there are some real corkers. Not a complaint in the slightest, but amusing nonetheless, was the time I went into a Bristol pub during one of my (frankly idiotic) Lenten, beer-free fasts, and asked what wine they had. A befuddled look was followed by the hesitant riposte \u2013 \u201cred\u2026 and white\u201d.
\nI hate to come across as a snob, inevitable though it probably is. I would argue that my views are actually far from snobbish or patronising. These aren\u2019t complaints about restaurants that claim to serve foie gras<\/span> when it\u2019s really only chicken liver p\u00e2t\u00e9, or sommeliers who bring the \u201983 instead of the \u201982, or waiters who serve from the wrong side (does anyone even care about this anymore?). No, ultimately all of these gripes come down to apathy \u2013 the fact that someone in the kitchen staff simply does not care enough to make the infinitesimally small effort to do the even smaller things well, and more importantly, with love. And frankly, if you\u2019re one of these people, you\u2019re in the wrong profession mate. Go and be a tube driver. Apparently they don\u2019t give a fuck.<\/p>\n

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