It seems there are very few eateries without a mission, a philosophy or a dream to share with the diner. What restaurant rhetoric really gets your goat?-
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L'Enclume restaurant in Cartmel, Cumbria, where "time can stop". Someone should tell Stephen Hawking. Photograph: Murdo Macleod for the Guardian
I suppose you can't blame them really. In a world of endless criticism, 140 character reviews and a general Urbanspoon-type consensus dictating opinion, perhaps it's only right and fair that restaurants should try to big themselves up. If everyone from the most feared critic to the iPhone-toting enthusiast is sharing harsh words, thoughts, theories and opinions on anywhere flogging food, why shouldn't the sellers try to redress the balance? For years I've been consistently entertained by the results of their efforts to do so, an endless stream of self-aggrandising tosh from all corners of the restaurant world.
Firstly, there are restaurants that review themselves in their names. Burger places are particularly prone - Gourmet Burger Kitchen, Fine Burger Company and The Ultimate Burger spring immediately to mind - but everyone from Chinatown's Haozhan ("a great place to eat") to Edinburgh's La Favorita, Glasgow's Nams Fine Dining and Newcastle's Raval Luxury Restaurant & Bar is at it. Thanks for the suggestions, guys, but we diners will be the judge of that.
This sort of bluster extends to menu literature, where items are often mouth-wateringly good, irresistible or world-famous. "Award-winning" is a phrase that's particularly popular with local restaurants, a claim that it's always worth investigating. North London's Yumyum has the words emblazoned on their homepage. Their most recent award? The Hackney Gazette Food and Drink Awards: Best Thai Restaurant in N16, back in 2008. They're far from the only ones.
Simon Majumdar took umbrage with "zesty", "hearty" and "flavourful" in a blogpost last autumn and Word of Mouthers numbered the likes of "jus" and "coulis" among their bugbears. Anything wilted, moist, loaded, stacked, pan-fried, muddled, puddled, smashed or freshly cooked was also put forward for the chop. Then of course there are the restaurants whose menu terminology is so impenetrable they have to include a definitions section. One culprit is L'Anima on Liverpool Street in London, whose handy dictionary includes entries like "Colatura: anchovy water". Incidentally, L'Anima means "the soul".
The hub of all restaurant rhetoric, though, is the website, where they can really get down to defining what they do. From concise phrases to long waffly screeds, these can be anything from "visions" (in the case of Otarian) to full-blown "philosophy" sections. I like the latter better.
This is where restaurants find their vocations. It's where Cumbria's L'Enclume manages to "come to grips with who it is" and, rather surprisingly, assert that "in full immersion, time can stop". In Spain, the Celler de Can Roca's concept "is best described as a triangle with three vertices – Joan, Josep and Jordi – which, in the most perfect harmony, delineate a scenario where emotions and sensations excite and fill the palate". There's plenty more on the website.
It's an imaginative world, sometimes soundtracked by upbeat lounge muzak or chill out tunes, where meals aren't just meals: they're journeys offering enlightenment and enrichment; they're an expression of the soul; they're works of art; they're basically anything except food on a plate. At Arzak they're symphonies. "Every day we experiment and investigate with the flavours, textures and elaboration's processes," they declare. "From there comes up the 'score' that, once on the menu, our cooks will perform to the palate's delight".
Musical metaphors are rife. Pete Goossens at Belgium's Hof Van Cleve sees himself "as a composer of flavours". On his site he insists: "Elegance is the hallmark of the tempo we have chosen. Elegance of the flavours, colours, materials, fragrances and smells". He also has a new job description for the front of house staff: "With their own personalities they act out a succession, a sequence of events. Their role is equally to amplify and multiply the scale of your sensations".
Many restaurateurs feel they're offering a spiritual retreat, where if the food's up to scratch you're in real danger of some sort of epiphany. Feeling uninspired? Head to Sergio Herman's website for Oud Sluis, where to the strains of funky guitar breaks and flute flourishes you'll learn that "originality is somewhere hidden in your mind, but you need to be able to access it, which has got everything to do with emotions". Italy's Osteria Francescana, meanwhile, invites you to "test your tongue … satisfy your heart and soul; your stomach will follow. Nourishment is not mathematical, it is emotional".
Sometimes they quote, anything from Flaubert to French culinary forefather Fernand Point, as do Guernsey's Bella Luce: "If the divine creator has taken pains to give us delicious and exquisite things to eat, the least we can do is prepare them well and serve them with ceremony" (although the words melt away almost before you get a chance to read them, as if they're somehow embarrassed to be there). And in California they're so ferociously proud of their manifestos they go the extra mile to protect them. Pismo Beach's Cracked Crab is in the business of "serving the finest seafood available, in a most casual style.™"
Restaurant rhetoric is everywhere. A lunch I bought the other day from Chipotle is "not just a burrito. It's a foil-wrapped, hand-crafted, local farm supporting, food culture changing cylinder of deliciousness", a revelation that hints at the immense sociological and environmental burdens the Mexican chain has to bear (if you brush over the foil bit).
Last but not least, let's not forget the many retellings of "Our Story". Few places launch nowadays without a narrative recounting the heroic journey from humble dream to happy outcome via inspiration, temporary setback, personal sacrifice and perseverance whittled down into two heartwarming paragraphs.
Firstly, there are restaurants that review themselves in their names. Burger places are particularly prone - Gourmet Burger Kitchen, Fine Burger Company and The Ultimate Burger spring immediately to mind - but everyone from Chinatown's Haozhan ("a great place to eat") to Edinburgh's La Favorita, Glasgow's Nams Fine Dining and Newcastle's Raval Luxury Restaurant & Bar is at it. Thanks for the suggestions, guys, but we diners will be the judge of that.
This sort of bluster extends to menu literature, where items are often mouth-wateringly good, irresistible or world-famous. "Award-winning" is a phrase that's particularly popular with local restaurants, a claim that it's always worth investigating. North London's Yumyum has the words emblazoned on their homepage. Their most recent award? The Hackney Gazette Food and Drink Awards: Best Thai Restaurant in N16, back in 2008. They're far from the only ones.
Simon Majumdar took umbrage with "zesty", "hearty" and "flavourful" in a blogpost last autumn and Word of Mouthers numbered the likes of "jus" and "coulis" among their bugbears. Anything wilted, moist, loaded, stacked, pan-fried, muddled, puddled, smashed or freshly cooked was also put forward for the chop. Then of course there are the restaurants whose menu terminology is so impenetrable they have to include a definitions section. One culprit is L'Anima on Liverpool Street in London, whose handy dictionary includes entries like "Colatura: anchovy water". Incidentally, L'Anima means "the soul".
The hub of all restaurant rhetoric, though, is the website, where they can really get down to defining what they do. From concise phrases to long waffly screeds, these can be anything from "visions" (in the case of Otarian) to full-blown "philosophy" sections. I like the latter better.
This is where restaurants find their vocations. It's where Cumbria's L'Enclume manages to "come to grips with who it is" and, rather surprisingly, assert that "in full immersion, time can stop". In Spain, the Celler de Can Roca's concept "is best described as a triangle with three vertices – Joan, Josep and Jordi – which, in the most perfect harmony, delineate a scenario where emotions and sensations excite and fill the palate". There's plenty more on the website.
It's an imaginative world, sometimes soundtracked by upbeat lounge muzak or chill out tunes, where meals aren't just meals: they're journeys offering enlightenment and enrichment; they're an expression of the soul; they're works of art; they're basically anything except food on a plate. At Arzak they're symphonies. "Every day we experiment and investigate with the flavours, textures and elaboration's processes," they declare. "From there comes up the 'score' that, once on the menu, our cooks will perform to the palate's delight".
Musical metaphors are rife. Pete Goossens at Belgium's Hof Van Cleve sees himself "as a composer of flavours". On his site he insists: "Elegance is the hallmark of the tempo we have chosen. Elegance of the flavours, colours, materials, fragrances and smells". He also has a new job description for the front of house staff: "With their own personalities they act out a succession, a sequence of events. Their role is equally to amplify and multiply the scale of your sensations".
Many restaurateurs feel they're offering a spiritual retreat, where if the food's up to scratch you're in real danger of some sort of epiphany. Feeling uninspired? Head to Sergio Herman's website for Oud Sluis, where to the strains of funky guitar breaks and flute flourishes you'll learn that "originality is somewhere hidden in your mind, but you need to be able to access it, which has got everything to do with emotions". Italy's Osteria Francescana, meanwhile, invites you to "test your tongue … satisfy your heart and soul; your stomach will follow. Nourishment is not mathematical, it is emotional".
Sometimes they quote, anything from Flaubert to French culinary forefather Fernand Point, as do Guernsey's Bella Luce: "If the divine creator has taken pains to give us delicious and exquisite things to eat, the least we can do is prepare them well and serve them with ceremony" (although the words melt away almost before you get a chance to read them, as if they're somehow embarrassed to be there). And in California they're so ferociously proud of their manifestos they go the extra mile to protect them. Pismo Beach's Cracked Crab is in the business of "serving the finest seafood available, in a most casual style.™"
Restaurant rhetoric is everywhere. A lunch I bought the other day from Chipotle is "not just a burrito. It's a foil-wrapped, hand-crafted, local farm supporting, food culture changing cylinder of deliciousness", a revelation that hints at the immense sociological and environmental burdens the Mexican chain has to bear (if you brush over the foil bit).
Last but not least, let's not forget the many retellings of "Our Story". Few places launch nowadays without a narrative recounting the heroic journey from humble dream to happy outcome via inspiration, temporary setback, personal sacrifice and perseverance whittled down into two heartwarming paragraphs.
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