Tonight Matthew I shall be Smogo
This evening, as part of my ongoing picking up bargain vouchers from the likes of Groupon that render nice restaurants kicked in the cock and brought down nearer Weatherspoons prices we sampled Kumo in Knightsbridge.
I also find this takes care of any worries about dresscode. "You aren`t wearing a tie sir" "You lost all ability to have any opinion about how I look whatsoever the second you voluntarily entered into an arrangement in which I prepaid your "exclusive" restaurant for my meal under a discount voucher scheme, so fuck off, acquire some views on life that are socially evolutionary rather than socially retarded, and show me to my fucking table" (1)
The restaurant was on a sidestreet so posh it had a fucking Aga store.
The food and cocktails were, I have to say exquisite. And as a vegetarian, I have become used to the notion of acceptable dining. So when it is indeed occasionally quite fine, it`s a good effort all round (2). Although I do very much like Japanese cuisine and find it delivers more than most here.
But heres where Gordon Ramsey comes in to swear at them.
We loiter outside until the time our table is actually booked for. At which point I think, well, it`s fair of us to assume that they ARE open. And squeeze past the heater that would appear to be specifically there to stop us entering. Erm. Hello. I`m not sure if you are open but we had a table booked. Theres a very brief flash of actual hostility as they tell us that they are indeed not open, with heavy undertones of "and who the fuck are you squeezing past the thing that is obviously there to stop you coming in?". Before some sort of customer service training kicks in and they say "oh, did you have a reservation for 6pm? sorry, we are running a bit late"
We are shown to our tables, after I have said that it`s fine for us to come back in 30 minutes if they want. Theres some plus points here for things being confusing at this point in EXACTLY the manner that going to actual restaurants in Japan was. With baffling slightly funk inspired music to boot. But basically we are sat at tables we are clearly going to have to actually haunch over to eat. Or, as Mog says, "I think they might have recently acquired the place and haven`t quite understood how it should work - they`ve kept the tables meant for traditional sitting on the floor dining but decided chairs need adding"
The very exciting cocktail featuring Yuzu advertised outside is not on the menu. Mog quite fancied that, she`s a total yuzu slut. So we enquire. After a few goes of no knowledge of what yuzu even is we sort of give up and the waiter explains that yes, they have recently changed their cocktail menu, with a slight undertone that we are slight fantasists not paying attention, with no acknowledgement whatsoever that they are clearly advertising, right now, as we are speaking, this very drink outside the venue.
We have a similar issue at the end of the meal. "Can I get you anything else?" the chap says. "Pudding!" shouts Mog. "I shall have the rose and vanilla ice-cream please". "We don`t do pudding says the waiter". Again, in a manner that suggests we are total fantasists. Despite Mog referring to a pudding that was clearly featured on the menu we were given on arrival (which admittedly was a pudding menu consisting of a grand total of two, but you don`t really expect pudding central when you go japanese). There is some actual confusion over what was communicated next. Mog thinks we were told that the other 50% of the pudding menu was Lychee Creme Brulee and we could have that. I think that we were told that they DO do Lychee Creme Brulee but there had been a delivery fuck up that day and they couldn`t do that either. Whichever of us was right, the clear message was that we couldn`t have pudding, and what the fuck was wrong with us for even asking?
All of which creates perhaps the wrong idea. I actually thought our waiter was a quite affable and non objectionable guy, although perhaps not quite at the peak of his game. Mog wanted to stab him in the face with a chopstick. And as I say, despite the implied but perhaps not true (maybe it was fresh lychees that had been fucked up in the delivery stakes) idea that their desserts were all delivered the food and drink was absolutely first rate.
The lingering impression however was of people who had recently acquired an existing restaurant, perhaps retaining the original chef given how good the actual food was, and had no fucking idea what they were doing with it. Cue crinkly faced wifecheating ubercunt having the barefaced cheek and lack of self awareness to think he has any business calling someone else one.
I have however discovered over the past few weeks that one will not go wrong if one chooses tempranillo as ones wine.
If any broadsheets are reading by the way, you will note that I have used the words kicked in the cock within the first sentence of a restaurant review, so anytime you are sick to the back teeth of Giles Coren being an insufferable prick...........
(1) I should stress of course that this is one of those imaginary conversations that happen in my head, and has never actually happened, as no one has in fact ever had an issue with dresscode.
(2) Elena on Charlotte street, a family run french place that his been there for over a century (apparently) achieved this also. I apparently pulled an actual face so good was my starter.
I also find this takes care of any worries about dresscode. "You aren`t wearing a tie sir" "You lost all ability to have any opinion about how I look whatsoever the second you voluntarily entered into an arrangement in which I prepaid your "exclusive" restaurant for my meal under a discount voucher scheme, so fuck off, acquire some views on life that are socially evolutionary rather than socially retarded, and show me to my fucking table" (1)
The restaurant was on a sidestreet so posh it had a fucking Aga store.
The food and cocktails were, I have to say exquisite. And as a vegetarian, I have become used to the notion of acceptable dining. So when it is indeed occasionally quite fine, it`s a good effort all round (2). Although I do very much like Japanese cuisine and find it delivers more than most here.
But heres where Gordon Ramsey comes in to swear at them.
We loiter outside until the time our table is actually booked for. At which point I think, well, it`s fair of us to assume that they ARE open. And squeeze past the heater that would appear to be specifically there to stop us entering. Erm. Hello. I`m not sure if you are open but we had a table booked. Theres a very brief flash of actual hostility as they tell us that they are indeed not open, with heavy undertones of "and who the fuck are you squeezing past the thing that is obviously there to stop you coming in?". Before some sort of customer service training kicks in and they say "oh, did you have a reservation for 6pm? sorry, we are running a bit late"
We are shown to our tables, after I have said that it`s fine for us to come back in 30 minutes if they want. Theres some plus points here for things being confusing at this point in EXACTLY the manner that going to actual restaurants in Japan was. With baffling slightly funk inspired music to boot. But basically we are sat at tables we are clearly going to have to actually haunch over to eat. Or, as Mog says, "I think they might have recently acquired the place and haven`t quite understood how it should work - they`ve kept the tables meant for traditional sitting on the floor dining but decided chairs need adding"
The very exciting cocktail featuring Yuzu advertised outside is not on the menu. Mog quite fancied that, she`s a total yuzu slut. So we enquire. After a few goes of no knowledge of what yuzu even is we sort of give up and the waiter explains that yes, they have recently changed their cocktail menu, with a slight undertone that we are slight fantasists not paying attention, with no acknowledgement whatsoever that they are clearly advertising, right now, as we are speaking, this very drink outside the venue.
We have a similar issue at the end of the meal. "Can I get you anything else?" the chap says. "Pudding!" shouts Mog. "I shall have the rose and vanilla ice-cream please". "We don`t do pudding says the waiter". Again, in a manner that suggests we are total fantasists. Despite Mog referring to a pudding that was clearly featured on the menu we were given on arrival (which admittedly was a pudding menu consisting of a grand total of two, but you don`t really expect pudding central when you go japanese). There is some actual confusion over what was communicated next. Mog thinks we were told that the other 50% of the pudding menu was Lychee Creme Brulee and we could have that. I think that we were told that they DO do Lychee Creme Brulee but there had been a delivery fuck up that day and they couldn`t do that either. Whichever of us was right, the clear message was that we couldn`t have pudding, and what the fuck was wrong with us for even asking?
All of which creates perhaps the wrong idea. I actually thought our waiter was a quite affable and non objectionable guy, although perhaps not quite at the peak of his game. Mog wanted to stab him in the face with a chopstick. And as I say, despite the implied but perhaps not true (maybe it was fresh lychees that had been fucked up in the delivery stakes) idea that their desserts were all delivered the food and drink was absolutely first rate.
The lingering impression however was of people who had recently acquired an existing restaurant, perhaps retaining the original chef given how good the actual food was, and had no fucking idea what they were doing with it. Cue crinkly faced wifecheating ubercunt having the barefaced cheek and lack of self awareness to think he has any business calling someone else one.
I have however discovered over the past few weeks that one will not go wrong if one chooses tempranillo as ones wine.
If any broadsheets are reading by the way, you will note that I have used the words kicked in the cock within the first sentence of a restaurant review, so anytime you are sick to the back teeth of Giles Coren being an insufferable prick...........
(1) I should stress of course that this is one of those imaginary conversations that happen in my head, and has never actually happened, as no one has in fact ever had an issue with dresscode.
(2) Elena on Charlotte street, a family run french place that his been there for over a century (apparently) achieved this also. I apparently pulled an actual face so good was my starter.