Bit of a nightmare work lunch, at Gilt in EC3. The occasion was a visit from one of our American counterparts, so this one was on the company. I should make clear that, like most financial institutions in this age of austerity, we have a very limited budget for these rare happenings. Probably forevermore in fact, the "good times" have well and truly gone. Gilt is a restaurant / bar on the site of the former Fenchurch Colony, close to Fenchurch Street train station.
It started badly, being greeted by a clipboard-wielding hostess at the door, who led us to our table upstairs. On the way up we passed by another employee, sans clipboard, whose sole job seemed to be standing on the stairs smiling. I found this introduction weirdly disconcerting. We were seated in the middle of a brightly coloured dining / drinking space, with a bar the whole way along one wall, and booths along the other. Our waitress was dressed like a low-budget go-go girl. Or at least how I imagine a low-budget go-go girl would dress, as I've no actual life experience to base this on. She was friendly, attentive and got everything right, so hats off to her. I hope that she's not made to dress as she was. And I thought that my management were demanding . . .
From the description so far it sounds like I'm eating in a brothel. Honestly, it's not. Swiftly onto the food then. It was pricey, which partly influenced my choice of fish & chips, one of the cheapest items on the menu at somewhere round the £10 mark (can't recall the exact amount, damn my non-existent note-taking). To give you an idea of the price (which is not on their website), they had a kobe beefburger at £16.95, alongside the typical selection of steaks and salads, also priced to the maximum. So, the chips were fine, served with mushy peas and tartare sauce. But my fish was chewy. That's right, MY FISH WAS CHEWY. This is a remarkable achievement and an unwelcome first for me. 'Nuff said about that fiasco. For the record, my less austere colleague plumped for the kobe beefburger, which he eloquently described as tasting "like a really shit burger". I was frightened by the prospect of dessert after this, but several colleagues ordered chocolate fondant, which appeared to be pretty much set through, like several bad Masterchef moments all served up at once. Maybe Gilt is better as a bar, but as a restaurant it's terrible. Worst of the year so far, and a good chance it'll remain so. If they're typically subjected to places like this, then no wonder that the Americans think our food is appalling.
For dinner, a toasted cheese sandwich made from supermarket cheddar, deli Red Leicester and artichokes (leftover from Sunday). The sandwich was toasted on my beloved griddle. Out of all the kitchen items I own, the griddle ranks in joint second place (with Creuset pans) of usefulness. First is Global knives BTW. Anyway, the sandwich was perfect on the outside but the Red Leicester didn't melt, annoying. After that lunch though, it was a huge relief. Even my bad food doesn't taste that bad.
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