Never to Return Again
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This is a sorry tale of two favourite restaurants revisited: Le Pont de la Tour and The Fish Shop in Islington.
To celebrate summer finally having arrived, I went back to an old haunt - Le Pont de la Tour. I was looking forward to that smooth, elegant place with the great view, and they were advertising a set menu which at £15 seemed a steal. I now know that there are no such good deals.
It started rather well - we found a table outside within smelling distance of the river, and the weather was sunny, bordering on warm (which in August is no mean feat). We were told to stay away from the £24 seafood dish but that all else would be freely available to order for the £15 menu. Our eyes feasted on smoked salmon, oysters, and prawns, and we settled on the large Atlantic prawns I had spied on the next table and oysters and seafood linguine - treats indeed to look forward to.
When the prawns arrived in a beaker, they were medium sized and very watery, and served with a tasteless mayonnaise and no fingerbowl. I was very disappointed, but wasn't able to summon the waiter. When he finally arrived and I queried the size of my prawns, he started to argue, trying to teach me that prawns are not lobsters.
The linguine was also a total disaster, with no seafood to speak of and swimming - neigh, drowning in - cream, which overpowered whatever taste of seafood might have once upon been once in the stock. No one asked how we liked out food or noticed that I left half of my portion.
The bill came with the dishes at full price, and it was only when I insisted that we received the £15 promotion. What a pity. Le Pont de la Tour was a reliable place, once upon a time.
An even worse experience was had at the Fish shop in Islington. Again, it was a lovely setting for a summery lunch before Sadler’s Wells' Shall We Dance. Perfect, I thought.
My friend had tried to make sure her softshell crabs would be served without the shell, and been assured by Markus, the manager, that there would be no shell. Admittedly he said shelves, but he explained with great vigour that these were young crabs who, as soon as they left their first 'shelves', were immediately killed and whence to our plates, etc. So we were surprised to see same crabs gracing my friend’s plate with the shell very much on. When we queried this rather obvious fact, Markus insisted there was no shelf! As this was becoming too reminiscent of a Monty Python sketch we gave up arguing with him.
My so-called fishcakes proved to be three miserable, deep-fried balls of undistinguishable fish drenched in a cream sauce. What is going on with the cream sauce? Who are these chefs? Have they trained in Germany? Someone must tell those chefs that this is not a culinary height to aim for.
We left disappointed and quite upset to have been told again - and by a 20-year old - how things should be. My American friend has probably eaten his weight in crabs, and I have fishcakes in almost every fish restaurant I go to.
It is time London restaurant owners take responsibility tor properly training their staff, before their customers all decide to eat at home!
- The Southbank Gourmande
It started rather well - we found a table outside within smelling distance of the river, and the weather was sunny, bordering on warm (which in August is no mean feat). We were told to stay away from the £24 seafood dish but that all else would be freely available to order for the £15 menu. Our eyes feasted on smoked salmon, oysters, and prawns, and we settled on the large Atlantic prawns I had spied on the next table and oysters and seafood linguine - treats indeed to look forward to.
When the prawns arrived in a beaker, they were medium sized and very watery, and served with a tasteless mayonnaise and no fingerbowl. I was very disappointed, but wasn't able to summon the waiter. When he finally arrived and I queried the size of my prawns, he started to argue, trying to teach me that prawns are not lobsters.
The linguine was also a total disaster, with no seafood to speak of and swimming - neigh, drowning in - cream, which overpowered whatever taste of seafood might have once upon been once in the stock. No one asked how we liked out food or noticed that I left half of my portion.
The bill came with the dishes at full price, and it was only when I insisted that we received the £15 promotion. What a pity. Le Pont de la Tour was a reliable place, once upon a time.
An even worse experience was had at the Fish shop in Islington. Again, it was a lovely setting for a summery lunch before Sadler’s Wells' Shall We Dance. Perfect, I thought.
My friend had tried to make sure her softshell crabs would be served without the shell, and been assured by Markus, the manager, that there would be no shell. Admittedly he said shelves, but he explained with great vigour that these were young crabs who, as soon as they left their first 'shelves', were immediately killed and whence to our plates, etc. So we were surprised to see same crabs gracing my friend’s plate with the shell very much on. When we queried this rather obvious fact, Markus insisted there was no shelf! As this was becoming too reminiscent of a Monty Python sketch we gave up arguing with him.
My so-called fishcakes proved to be three miserable, deep-fried balls of undistinguishable fish drenched in a cream sauce. What is going on with the cream sauce? Who are these chefs? Have they trained in Germany? Someone must tell those chefs that this is not a culinary height to aim for.
We left disappointed and quite upset to have been told again - and by a 20-year old - how things should be. My American friend has probably eaten his weight in crabs, and I have fishcakes in almost every fish restaurant I go to.
It is time London restaurant owners take responsibility tor properly training their staff, before their customers all decide to eat at home!
- The Southbank Gourmande
