AT THE END of my first year as The Spec-
tator's restaurant critic it is heartening to report that cooking in Britain, not just in London, has massively improved in the past decade or so. We are no longer outclassed by the cooks of France and the rest of Europe, nor by what is available in New York City and on the American West Coast.
What also seems undeniable is that the price for eating well is high: £20 a head is a rock-bottom cheapie these days, confined to either 'ethnic' restaurants or very basic bistros where comfort and attention may well be rudimentary. At the same time, £50 a head seems to be regarded as a relatively modest, middle-of-the-road figure in Lon- don, which I find pretty appalling. A £100 bill for two people to have a meal may not seem much if the host is paying on his or her company credit card, but for ordinary people eating out at their own expense it's a lot of money and thus, like the price of seats at the Royal Opera House, deters the professional middle classes — at whom, surely, most good cooking is aimed — from going out as often as they would like. The reverse side of this coin is what is suffered by the restaurants themselves. Launched nowadays with a barrage of pub- licity, handled by the now obligatory PR outfit, and flocked to within days of open- ing by national newspaper critics, smart metropolitan newcomers are initially almost impossible to get into. But try going to the average new arrival six months later — if it hasn't actually gone out of business by then — and you will find a less than half full room, still the same menu clichés and still the same exaggeratedly high prices. At the risk of seeming Scrooge-like at the Christmas season, I would therefore like to offer a few suggestions, maybe New Year resolutions, to restaurateurs to help them through the coming year. First of all, restaurants should make themselves more approachable. There is lit- tle point in hiding behind a telephone bar- rier, be it an engaged tone or answering machine. One of my favourite places has recently installed a state-of-the-art switch- board which answers instantly and, via a recorded voice, promises you almost imme- diate attention, while it plays you canned music. After a ten-minute wait, at my expense, I usually end up pressing the 'other options' keys and leaving a message about my intended reservation on the man- ager's answering machine. What a cumber- some arrangement, and how much easier to have an old-fashioned system where an engaged tone will merely encourage one to try again later. If you do get through, there is the now inevitable hassle with the person taking your booking. If they can actually offer a table two weeks in advance, your choice of time will be derided, and once your arrival time is agreed, you are then told what time they will want the table back (two hours later, if you're lucky) and com- manded to confirm the reservation by tele- phone on the day. Finally you will be asked for your telephone number, which will quite probably be sold on to a mail-order company. Recently, when I tried to book a table for Sunday lunch in a newly opened restaurant at one o'clock, I was firmly told to make it 'a quarter to'. When I sought to know why, I was told, 'So that we can serve you better'. What nonsense: when I arrived at one the huge room was three-quarters empty. This booking business combines with the restau- rant staffs maxim, 'The customer is always wrong'. Heaven help you if you turn up a few minutes early or late for your table, or have failed to state in advance that a mem- ber of your party might like to smoke. It really is time that restaurateurs woke up to the fact that the customer is doing them the favour by coming, not the other way round.
Then there is the matter of hidden extras. Why have a cover charge? French restaurants do not. Why should one pay £1.50 or more to be supplied with a table napkin and cloth (not infrequently paper ones), china and glass, cutlery and a crust of bread? It's an old-fashioned rip-off that people are too timid to do anything about. I wrote earlier in the year about tipping, so you probably know my views on that: make it inclusive on the bill as it is in Europe. Have you ever actually considered what covers plus service come to on an average restaurant bill? I would suggest £6 a head is the norm. Then, of course, there is the ulti- mate dishonesty where the service is added in for you and the card slip then left blank for you to add more in case you had not noticed the first forced levy. This is crook- ery and such restaurants should be avoided in perpetuity.
On the matter of being inclusive, why not make vegetables so? It is surely infinitely preferable to leave the chef in his wisdom to choose the appropriate garnish for the dish he has prepared for you than for the waiter to make you choose £3-worth of probably frozen veg from the long list on the menu. At a restaurant on the South Bank recently I was told that I could have any vegetable I liked and that the spinach and French beans were fresh. What I was not told was that spinach was already part of the garnish of the dish I had ordered. How daft can service get?
Finally, while on the subject of inclusive prices, may I entreat restaurateurs to con- sider prix fire menus for both lunch and dinner in the New Year. Having just spent a happy week in Cannes, where every restaurant offers one, and gone on my return to Aubergine, where a fine three- course dinner is priced at £45 (give or take a supplement or two), I cannot state too strongly my pleasure in knowing in advance what the food is going to cost. It also makes budgeting for the wine much simpler, and probably in the restaurant's favour. With a sympathetic ear on the telephone, respect for the customer, and a desire to deal hon- estly and to make the bill as inclusive as possible, a wise restaurateur could make 1997 a really happy year for eating out. Bon appetit!
David Fingleton
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