ONCE BITTEN?

An Update from Serge Osvaldo

Our Restaurant Critic..

A little while ago, I reported on M. Snoppeur`s unfortunate experience when he took his family to lunch at a nearby riverside `restaurant.`  I won`t repeat the details here but they can be seen in my article `Sacre Bleu` posted on 4th October.   But I did mention that he had written to complain about the dismal standard of service and the quality of the food and I suggested he might have a long wait for a reply.

Mais voila!   A special delivery envelope arrived from the company yesterday with a letter of apology and a voucher for him to spend at any of the `restaurants` run by that company any time within the next six months.

M. Snoppeur`s reaction has been, how you say,... predictable.  First the surprise that it took only a month for the company to reply, given how long it took for the food to arrive after they had placed their orders but, secondly, the cruel irony of being handed a voucher to repeat the experience which caused him to complain in the first place.  Le Snoppeur likens it to being on a cruise ship struck by the norovirus.  You suffer its effects, you vow never to go on a cruise again and the shipping company offers you the chance of a trip round the harbour next time you`re in Southampton.

I am told that you English have a saying;  something about being once bitten and twice shy.   So too do we connoisseurs of cordon noir cuisine.   Merci, mais non, merci. 

CORDON NOIR..

From Serge Osvaldo - our Restaurant Critic

I have to report that the family of Monsieur Snoppeur had an `interesting` visit to a local restaurant the other day and he has asked me to pass on the benefit of his experience as a warning to other potential lunchtime hosts. His son, daughter-in-law and two grandsons were spending a few days with him from their home in Hamburg and M. Snoppeur thought it would be good to take them for a nice lunch.

He decided to visit a restaurant he had not been to for over 30 years - an imposing looking building enjoying peaceful riverside surroundings a little up river from the centre of Maidstone.   The menu looked appetising - plenty of `traditional` English fayre - frequent references to chips and an enticing dessert menu including Snoppeur`s own favourite, Le Mess Etonique.   Just to be sure, he pre-booked a table for six and he and his party arrived at the appointed time.

A very bubbly waitress quickly took their drinks order, which arrived swiftly and promptly took the orders for their main meals.   And they waited....and they waited...until after 50 minutes with no sign of any sustenance, our host decided to enquire as to progress under the guise of leaving the table to `inspect the plumbing.`   There followed what can best be described as a controlled rant in the direction of the waitress, whereupon the meals miraculously appeared after about an hour`s wait.

Ah, le cuisine.   Most definitely cordon noir - black belt catering on an industrialised scale and whilst one or two of the party were reluctant to find too much to complain about, I fear our host found that his `ultimate cod - chunky Atlantic cod freshly battered to order and fried until crisp and golden` turned out to be anything but ultimate, but rather a small, limp, overdone attempt at culinary subterfuge.   After the inordinate wait and the disappointing fayre (which wasn`t cheap and failed to live up to its extravagant billing) the party were disinclined to risk desserts, coffee, etc., and departed  as quickly as they could.

This all left our gallant host feeling embarrassed, cheated and determined never to darken the restaurant`s doors ever again, but he did send an e-mail of complaint to the company concerned.   He hopes that they do not offer him the ultimate insult of vouchers for a free meal but then he has received no response so far.  He may have a long wait - if it takes an hour to produce an indifferent collection of cordon noir dishes, it could be a few months before he gets a reply - if he gets one at all.

Sacre bleu bien sur!! 

OUR LITTLE SECRET ?..

Now that Spring has laughingly and allegedly sprung, an ice cream van has taken to parking outside my house most afternoons, sending out its chimes to entice the local population.   Now, last week I had to go to the doc for a regular blood test to see if my cholesterol was OK, along with the proper functioning of certain vital organs.   


I had the results today which were that everything is "satisfactory," especially the cholesterol which currently stands at 4.1.   So I might just treat myself to one of Mister Snippy`s jumbo cornets with the advertised free nuts and sprinkles, although I`m wondering if my cholesterol isn`t perhaps a shade too low, in which case I might be able to go for the one sprinkled with clotted cream and a smearing of lard.


After all, if a certain pacy flanker who plies his trade for an un-named League One championship winning team can join the queue to indulge in what Mister Snippy has to offer, then so can I.   But I do wonder what a certain anonymous south-east London football club`s nutritionist would make of their hard working wideman`s dietary peccadilloes.


Well, I won`t tell him if you won`t.

SNOPPER MEETS ITALIAN FOOD CHALLENGE

From Paulo di Canio, our Gastronomic correspondent

This year`s annual family lunch saw Snopper being entertained by understanding relatives at the Wealden Hall Restaurant in the sleepy backwater of downtown Larkfield. This establishment, pictured above in a quiet moment, occupies a former 15th century coaching house and has achieved an enviable reputation for its Italian cuisine. Now, as I have reported previously, Snopper doesn`t `do` Italian, French, Indian, Chinese, Thai or anything else remotely foreign. Until now, that is.

During the week, it seems that the restaurant`s menu is intrinsically Italian in its make-up. However, either in a spirit of pandering to the narrow confines of their guests` Anglo Saxon tastes or because they had been pre-warned of Snopper`s arrival, today`s menu also contained a selection of traditional Sunday roasts.

In a surprise reciprocal move, however, Snopper swept caution to the wind and downed a bowl of minestrone soup. This was quickly followed by a hearty helping of roast beef, yorkshire pud and sensible vegetables, so balance was once more restored. If it had been a tennis match, the score would probably stand at deuce, although the determined consumption of the Italianate minestrone might well lead to Snopper`s advantage..

AN INSPECTOR CALLS

From our gourmet correspondent

It somehow seemed fitting that the second and last of Snopper`s seasonal outings was held yesterday in the peaceful surroundings of the Poult Wood Golf Centre, surrounded by sylvan Kent countryside and overlooking the forbidding 18th hole of this near unplayable course which has been the scene for some of Snopper`s titanic golfing struggles over the years .

A poult being a young fowl, it was unsurprising that the main course on the menu was the traditional roast turkey with all the trimmings, but before that, there was mild surprise that Snopper`s hors d`oeuvres consisted of duck pate with salad. There was some suspicion on his part that the pate bit might have had just a hint of foreign about it, but he convinced himself that the duck in question had, most probably, been English.

He found the main course to be everything an English gentleman could aspire to see in a traditional Christmas lunch - succulent, tender breast of dead turkey, young, almost virginal sprouts (he managed to ingore the likely`Brussells` origin,) potatoes roasted to perfection, sausage wrapped in bacon, straight forward stuffing, perky carrots and piquant parsnips.

Not for him the strange concoctions imported from foreign parts, for Snopper likes his food to be plain, simple and free from complication....a bit like himself, I venture?

This festive repast was topped off by coffee and mints along with convivial conversation among good friends. All in all, a highly enjoyable occasion with the choice of venue and fayre passing all his searching tests with flying colours. There seems little doubt that further visits to Poult Wood will be made, whilst establishments that rely on `adventure` for their patrons will just have to wait their turn.

You know it makes sense.

SNOPPER SAVED FROM BARBECUE TRIAL

(Our Social Correspondent reports)

Good sense and understanding on the part of his hosts saved Snopper from enduring the uncertainties of his first ever barbecue at a secret location deep in the Kent countryside yesterday afternoon.

Instead of the predicted charred remains of expired animals, a full, proper, traditional Sunday roast was produced, followed by a choice of two `puddings.` Displaying all the social graces for which he is known, Snopper took the chance to sample both, even though one of them (a peach amoretto) contained perhaps just a hint of foreign nationality. The world it seems, could yet indeed be his oyster...were it not for oysters being yet another in a long line of `no-no`s.`

SOMETHING ELSE I DON`T DO...

....is barbecues. This picture tells it all really. Grown men trying to be all macho and masterful as they invade the mysterious and dangerous world of outdoor culinary art, whilst being looked upon indulgently by ladies who know a good cock-up when they see one.

`Real men` are supposed to be able to build their own barbecues and know how to cook bits of dead animals to perfection on them, whereas all they seem to achieve is the ability to dress up like complete twonks whilst scorching the outside of things whose insides are better left undescribed. As for me, I am happy to forego any pretence by not having a barbecue anywhere in my garden or knowing anything at all about cooking, which I am happy to leave in Mrs. Snopper`s experienced hands. Call me old fashioned if you want, I don`t care because I am indeed old-fashioned. So there.

All this could be about to change, however, as this weekend we have been invited to a barbecue by Mrs. Snopper`s brother and his highly skilled wife. It will be the first barbie we`ve ever, ever been to or had anything to do with, which confession is of itself testament to the affection we have for `family occasions.`

I just hope highly skilled wife will be in charge of everything when it comes to the cooking bit - not that I distrust my brother-in-law, just that I need to feel secure in the knowledge that I won`t need to rush to the DIY shop on the way home for a stomach pump. In my old fashioned way, having had the pleasure of sampling skilled wife`s excellent culinary skills in the past, I just know I will be fine if she does the barbecuing. However, just in case, we`ll take Henry along - he could do rather well out of it.

SNOPPER`S GOOD FOOD GUIDE

The past week has seen an upsurge in Snopper`s social engagements, nearly all of which have involved `eating out.` A week ago today, middle son (well, he`s 41!!) returned from a couple of weeks `chilling` in the Maldives and we went for lunch at a local hostelry. I should confess at this point that it was the original intention to visit another venue where, allegedly, the menu was varied and `inventive.`

However, at the last moment my courage deserted me, so we ended up at the more `traditional` establishment where we have been on countless occasions and where the gammon steak with four slices of pineapple, chips and trimmings was excellent - cordon noir at its most refined.

Last Thursday, I had the very real pleasure of lunch with two former work colleagues - one of whom had recently retired, so it was the first time the three of us had lunched together as a trio of retirees. The venue was one we hadn`t tried before, but I have to say that I was mightily impressed with the quality of the ham, egg and chips which I enjoyed. Interestingly, none of us had `desserts` despite a close examination of the choice on offer; I suspect we were all trying to appear `sensible,` which is not what the retired are supposed to be at all.

On Sunday, a family get-together took place in the busy surroundings of an excellent pub/restaurant famous locally for the excellence of their cow pie. However, I plumped for the home made soup followed (it being Sunday) with a wonderful Sunday roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and vegetables - and finally a vast slice of lemon merangue pie and ice cream which even I could not quite get through.

Next week, I have another reunion lunch, for which I was asked to pre-order my meal - simple really, just go for the straight forward stuff and you can`t go wrong, so it`s soup, chicken and apple pie (I think.)

Now, you may gather from this that I have simple and traditional tastes when it comes to food; quite right. It`s all good English stuff and I really can`t see the attraction of risking gastric problems by flirting with anything remotely foreign or messed about with.

After all, how many English restaurants do you find in China....or India.....or Thailand? I rest my case.