Quintessentially London, quintessentially
British… what exactly does this mean in an incredibly international city with
more kebab shops than “British” restaurants, and a country where the national
dish seems to be Chicken Tikka Masala? We see these questions battled out week
by week on the Great British Menu – if you add chutney to your venison, is that
still British? By that note though, could you really add potatoes to any dish
when it’s a New World vegetable, crossing the ocean only in the aftermath of Columbus?
Usually, we don’t bother with these
questions, we just eat whatever food we happen to like. Only when a friend
comes from abroad do we feel the desire to give them a real taste of London,
and England and Britain. While we could bring them to a curryhouse, well, we
make Indian food all the time at home so I doubt Britishised Indian food would
feel any more “authentic.” So instead when my great friend R came to town, the
hubby enthusiastically suggested Fish ‘n Chips. Not just any fish or any chips,
it’s the chippy he’d read about everywhere as the best in the city but never
dared to take me to, for fear that I’d grumble and/or starve. The Golden Hind is raved about in
foodie blogs and food columns across the capital and this was the perfect
opportunity for him to enjoy it while getting brownie points from me!
So, that was dinner sorted, now what to do
during the day? Coincidentally another great British institution, the
Oxford-Cambridge boat race, happened to fall on the one day she was in town! We
found a great little pub tucked away by the riverbank in Hammersmith and staked
out a place overlooking the water. Joined by R’s and the hubby’s friends, we
made a veritable crowd. As we waited for the race to start, R and the hubby
entertained us with their usual antics. Lunch consisted of a very healthy mix
of beer, Pimm’s & lemonade and French fries, with barbequed
something-or-other for the non-veggies. (Surprisingly, no veggieburgers were
available.)
We cheered on Oxford, not actually knowing
which boat they were or who was ahead, and found out from our phones that they
lost. Eventually we stumbled into a taxi and made our way to the restaurant in
time for our reservation.
Tucked away next to Marylebone High Street
was a nondescript little restaurant packed to the brim, with half of the tables
clutching London travel guides. After spending some time standing awkwardly in
the middle of tables while waiters squeezed past us, they showed us to our table
downstairs in the bare but crowded basement and handed us menus.
Admittedly, I’ve been spoiled as a
vegetarian. Most places have at least one sympathy item on the menu to appease
the “veto vote” – the one member of the group who may force everyone to turn
elsewhere for a more inclusive restaurant. Instead, this menu could be admired
for its simplicity and its conviction to its beliefs. One side had fish. The
other, sides and salads. No more. Simplicity at its best.
I cobbled together a meal of side salad,
peas and chips to the amusement of the waiters while the three non-veggies
ordered haddock and plaice with chips. The waiters buzzed around us, shouting
up and down the stairwell, making us feel like tourists in Greece trying to fit
in to the local culture and enjoy its uniquely blunt, disinterested flair.
Unsurprisingly, the vegetables were treated
as a sidenote by the kitchen. The onions overpowered the salad’s dull lettuce,
tasteless cucumbers and watery tomatoes. The peas lacked any seasoning, and the
powdery salt and pepper in the shakers barely made an impact. The chips were
fairly crispy, but by no means memorable, certainly not the epic experience I
had hoped for.
The non-veggies seemed to enjoy the star of
the show, fresh, lightly battered and crisp fish. Well, 3 out of 4 happy
customers isn’t bad.
Moral of the story: this is one place that doesn’t
cater to the veto vote, so veggies should save themselves the time and bother
and go for a ‘curry’ instead.
