Tom’s Pet Peeves
Peevish? Our Tom? That Tom, the bloke off Tom's Food!?
Well, these days there are enough of you who don't know me, I suppose. Or maybe you've encountered me only on the Edinburgh tours*, in which case you will consider me a jolly japester as well as a fount of knowledge on all matters to do with our capital city.
Unfortunately, I have to confess that sometimes (but only when there's a Y in the day) I can be slightly short of patience. OK, a pernickety wee s****. Guilty as charged. But only when folk in restaurants do stupid things. Read on and tell me if you disagree with any of the following.
Being ignored
I don't care how busy you are as I enter, don't pretend I'm not there. No, this is not a prima donna requiring instant attention, just don't blank me. You're in the middle of a task? I get that. By all means complete it, but how hard is it to make eye contact, smile and give me the nod that says, hi, I'll be with you as soon as I can? Our pals L & J in Pitlochry are with me on this.
Explaining the concept
No, no, and thrice no! Unless you're Heston Blumenthal at The Fat Duck, in which case you'll have had your Story Teller contact me a couple of times in the weeks before I arrive. Will I make any exceptions? Maybe, if someone isn't used to the small plates thing, and might need some advice about how much to order. (As an aside, beware - the bill can ratchet up alarmingly in such places.) But broadly speaking, the concept of a restaurant is quite simple. You provide food: I eat: I pay: you clear up.
See me - no note pad
Oh, how clever am I? Marvel at my amazing memory and consider how superior I am to you, you near demented t****. Well, first off, how do you communicate that to the kitchen? We've all played Chinese whispers and know how that game ends. (As an aside, why Chinese whispers? Or Chinese walls?)
And am I alone in having the sense of anxiety in wondering how to deal with the almost inevitable screw up? Get it right and you've proved your similarity to a performing seal. Pass me a raw fish and I'll throw it to you, but don't expect an extra tip. And when you get it wrong? Being the mild soul I am, I tend to let it pass with a rolling of the eyes, when I really want to scream, I knew this would happen, moron!
To the food.
Oysters
These, incidentally, were the inspiration for this column. I read somewhere of a new food offering in a cocktail bar designed by a famous chef. Oysters would feature, enlivened with lovage, lemongrass and lark's vomit.
OK, I may have got the ingredients wrong, but why muck about with an oyster? I know many of you would rather consign them to the bin than eat them. That's fine, I'll have yours. But, chefs, why task the lowest in your pecking order to chop shallots as finely as possible, so that you can pour vinegar over them and call it a mignonette (literally, a small sweet thing) and serve it to me? Because, like any sane oyster lover, I'll just ignore it. You want to cook your bivalves, great. You want to go Asian style, fantastic. But otherwise, give me a squeeze of lemon and I'll be happy. Save the vinegar for the chips.
Chips
No, not today. Too big a subject: too many pet peeves. Let's save them for these beauties-
Scallops
You went to school. You learned your alphabet. You know that A is for Apple. So why the bleep do you (and I think we Scots are mercifully free from this) call the thing a scOllop? I recall an antipodean TV chef by the name of Graham Kerr AKA the Galloping Gourmet using this abomination. But unless you're going to refer to him as the GOlloping Gourmet, remember that it's a scAllop.
Hot and Cold
Having saved the hottest rant for the penultimate, allow me to pass on one from the maestro, the legend that is Bill Kerr. Bill, sadly now retired, is the greatest Scottish chef since Escoffier. Chefs work at a higher heat, in every sense of the word, than us mere amateurs. Hot food should go out on a hot plate. I remember Bill shaking his head and posing the question, why on earth would anyone put cold food on a hot plate? I suppose if your idea of an elegant garnish is a leaf of lettuce and a handful of cress, you know no better.
End of rant. No idea, dear readers, if you enjoyed it, but I feel a lot better.
*Edinburgh Festival Voluntary Guides Association. We do free walking tours down the Royal Mile every day during the Edinburgh Festival. They start from the City Chambers on the High Street at 1030 and 1400. More details on our website here.