1 week Ago By Aimee Meade
“Hu-gh Cor-co-ran”. I repeat the name again, playing with each syllable, trying to find the French twang. Because surely Hugh, the chef of London’s new micro-restaurant The Yellow Bittern, must be French.
A man who expects his customers “to eat and drink with some sort of abandon” , who says that customers must “order correctly, drink some wine, and justify your presence in the room that afternoon”. And, my favourite quote of all: “In the case that a plate of radishes is enough for you and your three friends for lunch, then perhaps an allotment would be a better investment than a table at a restaurant.” Oui, Hugo! I don’t care how Irish the name sounds or what Google tells me, that man is French .
After a bit of digging, I discover that he trained in the Basque country, which would explain where that unapologetic-zero-customer-service-energy comes from and to be clear – I’m here for it. I love him for berating the very people who have picked his restaurant over all others in London. I love that he complains about his profit margins when he opted to exclusively open for lunch – and only on weekdays.
I adore him for trying to resuscitate long boozy lunches in a world where Chablis has long been replaced by bombucha. There is something sexy and hedonistic about the whole attitude. It’s a two fingers up to the wellness culture.
If I walk into The Yellow Bittern and I am not greeted by a cloud of nicotine as people chain-smoke over their entrées I will be bitterly disappointed. But not everyone agrees. It has been controversial, to say the least, and if his Instagram post (on his since privatised account) was meant to whip up interest in his new restaurant then it has definitely worked.
Whereas a lot of people have accused him of being tone-deaf, I would accuse him of being tone-Continental. As far as I am concerned, having a three-course lunch with a glass of wine is a completely normal. Necessary, in fact.
How else are you meant to survive a dreary Tuesday where the sun sets before 5pm? But then I grew up in France where le déjeuner is sacrosanct. It is inculcated from primary school. As we tucked into our cow’s tongue, we would watch as the carafes of wine floated past towards the teacher’s table.
They would enjoy the exact same menu as us but with a splash of Bourgogne to wash it down. Here in London, if my nieces told me that “Miss Hill had a glass of pinot grigio with her cheese sandwich”, I would be concerned – but in France I wouldn’t bat an eyelid. I think part of the reason why I have these double standards has to do with how we drink.
When I had lunch with a friend in Paris last week (and there is no way to say that without it dripping in privilege), we ordered wine. I asked the waiter for a light red and I got 125ml of burgundy liquid, perfectly suited to my gratin. And that was all we had – one small glass drunk not to get wasted but as a gastronomical accompaniment to our meal.
Read Next To tip or not to tip? Your French waiter will be offended either way I don’t say this to berate people for their lack of self-control or show off about my ability to consume in moderation, but there is something to be said for rethinking our definition of “day drinking”. Ordering wine over lunch in Britain has a different quality to it. It is cheeky, and dangerous – something you do on birthdays or on a Friday when you can head back to the office and pretend to work all afternoon.
Hugh Corcoran’s attack on cheap and sober customers was perceived by many as out of touch. He was accused of being oblivious to the financial reality of living in London and I get it. Obviously I’m going to share a plate of radishes when 60 per cent of my salary goes on my rent.
And I admit that, for all my adoration of a three-course meal and glass of Malbec – I am currently chomping down on a hummus and falafel wrap while at my laptop trying to get this article finished before the deadline. I hold my hands up: it’s not easy to balance the needs of modern careers and the joy of leisurely lunch. But rather than look at Corcoran’s words as strikingly out of touch, I prefer to think of them as a battle cry for personal pleasure.
Why shouldn’t we carve out time in the middle of the day to enjoy a hearty meal and a small glass of something? A glass of wine with lunch is a like a digestive with a cup of tea or a biscotti with a coffee: it’s a small indulgence that sweetens the day. Yes, an excessive amount of alcohol isn’t good for your health, but nor is a sandwich at your desk. Tatty Macleod is a comedian.
