A new restaurant opens in town. A branch of one in a town a little west of here. Charlotte’s Bistro, daughter of Charlotte’s Place. And when a new restaurant opens in Chiswick, Chiswickians hot foot it down there.
The food was better than I’d expected – I’d been underwhelmed by Charlotte’s Place where they serve what I call mucked-about food: too much showing off and not enough thought for what goes with what. Plus it’s a bit hushed making it hard to speak freely, knowing every word will be overheard.
But back to Charlotte’s Bistro. Good atmosphere. Very good. Plain, simple decor, the right level of lighting – and enough bustle for us to talk as we wished. But not necessarily for as long as we’d wished. I’d rung to book a table – even on a Tuesday night it might have been full – and was immediately told that it would be available for an hour and 45 minutes. What? This is a local bistro! Down the road at La Trompette, with a Michelin Star, there are no sittings and they only impose time limits if you book at the last minute and are being squeezed in. Even then, they allow two hours and 15 minutes. We would be a gaggle of girls catching up on each other’s gossip; it’s impossible to eat and chat that quickly. We decided to give it a go anyway, hoping we’d be under less pressure on a Tuesday night.
We had some questions on the menu so when our waitress appeared, we asked. First up, the bouillabaisse. She screwed up her nose and shook her head from side to side. “Well, I hate seafood,” she said. “So I’d never eat it.” I’m not sure her colleagues in the kitchen would appreciate her approach. And I wondered why her boss, the restaurant’s owner, hadn’t given her some basic training on how to sell what’s on the menu. It can’t only be Gordon Ramsay who presses home the need for all staff to taste the food and to know what goes in each dish, so they can be good advocates of it.
We ordered. And got down to serious talk. Suddenly, a hand pressed its way across my back and settled on my shoulder. It was the waitress. I can’t recall ever before being touched by waiting staff – and I didn’t like it. She said something inconsequential and I wondered why telling us that merited a physical invasion.
It happened again, when she brought the bill. Engrossed in conversation or not, this was the wrong way to get my attention.
I read recently that Mary Portas asks the waiter at her favourite restaurant to choose from the menu for her. I’d always want the choice to be mine – but, if I were to ask for a recommendation, I’d expect it to be based on something like a new dish being on the menu, or a seasonal, new or unusual ingredient being available, not on the waitress’s personal preferences (with added negative facial expressions).
As for getting physical with diners, no matter how well-intentioned it is, it’s not on.
Service NOT Included 