British cuisine has improved over the years and the celebrity chef is now a definable tribe but the impact has not been universal, as my holiday dining can attest. For Boxing Day (December 26th) dinner with the family we reserved a table at Bamburgh Castle Hotel in Seahouses, a small fishing village on the northeast coast of England. The menu offered a set meal of seasonal fare at 20 pounds ($30) a head or choices from the normal menu. Expecting some nice local seafood or hearty English pub fare we arrived at the appointed hour.
Drinks were ordered and consumed and orders placed. An hour or so later things began there downward spiral. The mushroom appetizer failed to live up to it's name,; it's tough to burn mushrooms but the chef had succeeded, the Brie cheese looked old enough to vote and the berry relish resembled a sweet tar. Clearly more drinks were needed. Unfortunately the pub had run out of bitter (you know that dark stuff served warm) and the cider was as flat as a pancake (in England it’s alcoholic and supposed to be a little fizzy). So no respite there. The entrees arrived and what a motley selection they were. The gammon (ham steaks) were cremated; all three rib-eye steaks were cooked the same despite orders ranging from medium rare to well done; the lasagna looked like a lava flow that had partially hardened and even the chips (fries) were a poor advert for one of England’s staples. The only vaguely edible dish was the sausage and mash. I am no cook but I could have easily improved on the sad offering and for the princely sum of 136 pounds ($200) could have done it much cheaper as well.
The Bamburgh Castle Hotel shot straight into the top ten worst meals of my life (four of which occurred in America - so there!). The hotel is in urgent need of a visit from the sainted Gordon; although the editors will need the “bleeper” on overtime if he dares to taste the food!