Fawlty Towers was born of a bad hotel experience. The Pythons booked into a hotel in Cornwall owned by a man who was “the most wonderfully rude man” that John Cleese had ever met. After filming, the other Pythons moved on. Seeing the comic potential, Cleese and his wife at the time, Connie Booth, stayed, watched, and took notes.
Everyone thinks Fawlty Towers is hilarious. Only those who’ve travelled in England know that it’s funny because it’s not far off the truth. A B ‘n’ B owner, who used to be a chef, confirmed my suspicion: Fawlty Towers is satire. He described the average person working in the restaurant and hotel business as a ‘muppet.’
Remember the episode when the boy asked for salad cream? Basil behaved as if he’d demanded freshly made aioli. And the carry on when one of his customers complained?
Recently, we stayed in a hotel in Portsmouth. When I pointed out that my breakfast eggs were under-cooked, the waitress informed me that “Chef” had served 55 people that morning, presumably under-cooking their eggs to save time. And, she continued, they get great reviews on Trip Advisor. Even though this information was utterly irrelevant to my watery eggs, I looked it up, and actually, they get some terrible reviews. One customer told the waiter that his fish curry was bland. Chef left his kitchen to lecture the customer about the difference between “curried fish” and “fish in a curry sauce.”
A moment worthy of Fawlty.
British servers have absorbed enough of the etiquette in other EU countries to ask if you enjoyed the food. But they haven’t a clue what to do with your response.
Julian told one young man that the fish batter was oily, and he agreed, saying, “Oh, yeah, we hear that.” When you tell them the meal was good, they’re astonished. “Yeah, you think so? I’ll have to tell Chef.” They don’t get many compliments because English restaurant food isn’t that good. Everyone in England knows it, and they’ve all agreed not to talk about it.
We’re puzzled. The food in the grocery stores is fantastic and inexpensive. We’ve eaten succulent strawberries, and packets of smoked Scottish salmon that put our Sockeye to shame. And the cheese! Stinky Stiltons and herb-laced Double Gloucester at less than £2 (about $3.50) for a good-sized chunk.
How can professional English cooks mangle such bounty?
Our English friends Stu and Debs told us we’ve been eating at cheap restaurants. We hadn’t actually noticed any association between quality and price. For £13 in a diner, Julian ate the best fish and chips he’s ever had. For the same price in a gastro pub, I ordered what was described as ‘grilled seabass au jus,’ and received a slab of fish floating on top of a greasy tomato broth.
Yesterday, to prove their point, Stu and Debs treated us to lunch at a Michelin-starred restaurant. I’ve never been to a Michelin-starred restaurant. It was amazing. The food tasted fresh, interesting and complex, for want of a better word. I ate dishes I could never cook. And while there were a few nasturtium leaves scattered about, there wasn’t any foam or liquid nitrogen. It was good, real food and the service was attentive.
Ok, Stu and Debs, you win. But what about ordinary folk? Is it reasonable to expect the average person to pay £70 pp (not including wine) for a decent lunch?
I once had a colleague who returned a bowl of soup in a restaurant because it wasn’t what she “expected.” At the time, I thought she was outrageous. Now I’m wondering if she wasn’t onto something. Maybe I’ll try returning food that doesn’t meet my expectations.
Sounds like the basis for a Fawlty Towers episode. I can almost hear Basil’s derision, “It wasn’t what you expected?”
