The middle class has always been good at spending all of or beyond their yearly income, I read in an article referring to the ubiquitous squeezed middle recently and thought that it probably sums up most food-obsessed Londoners.
‘Life’s too short to eat bad food,’ Sarah, a friend of my well-connected PR friend, Jayne, said before starting on her Cornish crab at Chutney Mary. Sarah has given up her city career to launch an indoor prawn farm. She’s also moved to Milton Keynes so that she can stay away from London’s many extravagant temptations during the week.
A few days back home and a group of friends had elected our Greek-Australian friend to choose our mezze selection (shiitake mushroom and potato dauphinoise mousaka; and loukoumades, lavender honey, crushed walnuts, chocolate sorbet for dessert were highlights) at Notting Hill’s Mazi; a college friend suggested we catch up over some pide at Alan Yau’s underrated Babaji; while Trustarian admitted he’d soon be hosting supper clubs.
Jayne’s cousin recently bagged them a table at El Celler de Can Roca. He’d flown straight from Hong Kong and struggled to stay awake during their 20-course Feast Menu (though even without jet lag, I’d struggle to stay awake to eat until 1.45am).
Londoners think nothing of booking a year in advance (or chasing a friend of a World’s Best Restaurant chef to get a table) and boarding a flight for a restaurant, queuing for an hour at a no-reservations-policy eatery or picking up a Heston from Waitrose Chocolate Buck’s Fizz Swirl for Christmas dessert.
After the Turkish mezze, I overheard the running commentary of two ladies sitting behind me on the bus to Victoria. ‘Giraffe is so overpriced – much more expensive here than in the US,’ one said, as we headed down Shaftesbury Avenue. The other woman agreed. (Why would anyone want to go there, I thought.)
‘Ooh, I love Waterstones…’ I heard, as we travelled down Piccadilly. (So do I, I thought.)
‘Look – The Ritz. Me and Carol [sic] had afternoon tea there.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, we saved £10 a month for eight months.’ Those ladies know how to savour things, I thought. If only I shared their discipline for saving.
