Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Posted By:
Anne Seymour
Photo:
Anne Seymour
The Boathouse
Oh
Boathouse! Life made it so easy for you to charm us. Uncharacteristically sunny
day? Check! Cheerfulness of Sunday lunch with a new man? Check! Beating a rival
couple to the last table on the Thameside patio? Check! But after 50 minutes of
waiting, the sun had lost out to the breeze from the river and we were desperate
for hot food. When it arrived, the £13.95 beef ribs were as cold as the frozen snot
stalactite from my now sub-Arctic nose. And my £9.50 salmon and noodles? Just
don't get me started on my £9 bloody 50
salmon and noodles. I don't like to complain: I prefer to settle these issues by
silently grinding my teeth. But the staff knew. They took away our food to cook
it, and apologised profusely when
they returned an hour later. They looked suitably mortified as I sadly sawed through
the grease coating each coagulated noodle. And graciously they didn't charge
us. New man assures me The Boathouse is normally superb however. I hope so, as
this stylish place would be a real delight if they didn't cock things up so
whole-heartedly.
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