The Diner, Shoreditch, London–a prime example of UK customer service

What kind of service do you expect in a restaurant?

Located in a trendy and busy part of town, this restaurant is called The Diner. It strives to recreate an American burger joint feel in London. The menu? Burgers, all day breakfast, fries and pie, tacked on the wall. Vinyl booths and a visible kitchen. Three wait staff for less than twenty tables.

I know what kind of service I expect in a joint like this. I expect that, for six pounds a burger (fries not included), my basket of food should arrive promptly and taste good. Neither happened.

I've just come back from lunch at this Diner. After waiting 35 minutes for my fish burger to arrive (and watching people who arrived after me get served their food first) I bit into a well-undercooked burger. Fantastic.

Complain? That would require the waitress's attention. My lunch date had finished his lunch before she arrived back at the table (50 minutes after we were first seated) and I had to be back at work. Once she cleared the table, it took another seven minutes and two reminders before she brought the bill, which we then had to go up to the counter and get another waitress to ring through.

I'd excuse her if she was busy, but she was standing fifteen feet from us, polishing silverware. Were the cooks so busy that they could serve an undercooked burger? There were five men cooking, and half the tables were empty.

Customer service in most UK restaurants and pubs is a bit of a joke for the most part. The wait staff generally ignore you, it takes a long time to get food, orders are messed up, and most don't even attempt to be friendly or polite. I've grown used to it, but that doesn't mean I like it.

Today, I've had quite enough. I was hungry, I was spending money in their restaurant, and I wanted my damn food on time and cooked. Is that too much to ask? To get what I paid for? No.

As a comparison, we had a full dinner on Sunday evening at a new Indian restaurant near our house. There were only three wait staff, but we had our entire dinner ordered, served, and eaten (delicious dinner, I might add) in less time than it took to serve me a half-cooked piece of blackened fish in a plastic basket.

So if you are ever in Shoreditch and looking for a burger for lunch, don't go to The Diner on Curtain Road. Come to think of it, don't go to any of their other branches either. Their speciality is disappointment.

Missing in action

Once again, I have be neglecting my posts. This time, it's not a happy reason, like simple laziness.

Please bear with me as I spend some time grieving and recouping from the death of my father. I'll get back as soon as I'm ready.

Thanks.

Knitting is the new drinking

Casting about for a blog topic today, I was constantly distracted by my latest obsession. So now I'm killing the proverbial two birds and writing about said obsession here. What is that, exactly?

Knitting.

Stop laughing now. Really. Knitting.

It's regained popularity as a hobby for men and women in the last decade, but that's not how I got roped (yarned?) into it. I was sucked in by my own frugality.

I started a new job just before Christmas, having been purposely unemployed since the previous April. Needless to say, cash was tight, and I wouldn't receive a paycheque in time to buy baubles for my nieces and nephews.

Foreseeing this in November, I decided that I would re-teach myself the craft my grandmothers had taught me as a child. I knit myself a scarf and then proceeded to knit like fiend and produce seven handmade presents for said siblings' offspring. It also helped to pass the time whilst broke, living in London, and searching for work.

I took a knitting break after that, as knitting related shoulder injuries had taken their toll. Last month, however, I jumped back in and started off knitting something for myself. Yay self!

No simple scarves or hats for me, oh no. Straight to the land of sweaters I went, and knit myself a serviceable vest. How quaint.

I found out something else as well. Yarn is not the yarn of my childhood. Yarn has gone upscale. Mohair, angora, alpaca, merino, cashmere, silk…the first time I walked into the local yarn store, I was sunk.

Now the shelves in my living room are starting to resemble a haberdashery, I spend more time on Ravelry than on Facebook, and I'm developing eye strain problems from knitting in pubs.

The real reason knitting has become an obsession is quite simple, really. It's a time and thought consuming exercise that blocks out every other swirling thought in my busy brain. Stressed as I am over my dad's illness, it isn't any wonder that I've sought some form of escape.

Bring on the DNA tank top, my friend.

I fell in to a burning ring of fire...

The world is shifting. It changes imperceptibly every day through processes we don't even notice, such as erosion.

Sometimes Mother Nature likes to flex her geological muscles. Bit of a show off, she is.

I'm not going to explain geology to you, so if you don't know anything about plate tectonics, please go read up on it and then come back to this post.

When a plate starts to release, it triggers different reactions. Earthquakes along fault lines, subsidence, water table changes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis. Sometimes the signs are so small we can't even tell, unless we're connected into sensors and actually follow press releases from geological associations.

When new islands form, however, we notice. When volcanoes spew ash thousands of feet into the stratosphere, we notice.

The Pacific plate is big, and it's grumpy. More importantly, it's releasing energy along its perimeter, also known as the ring of fire.

Mount Redoubt erupted in Alaska. Last week, a new island (and lots of pumice) burst out of the ocean near Tonga, creating tsunami fears. It looks like we're in for a little bit of a show, courtesy of Nature herself.

The only problem is, Nature isn't a person, has no emotion, and doesn't give a rat's ass about anything on the face of this planet. We might like to think we're actors in her play, but we aren't even an important part prop. We're little masses of expendable carbon-based material that will eventually be recycled back into the depths and converted into something else.

With that kind of fatalism in mind, I am curious as to what will happen around the Pacific rim next.

Earthquake wise, the ring of fire shakes all the time. Significant shaking happened in 2004-2006, most notably killing thousands in a tsunami, along with thousands more perishing in Indonesia, Papua New Guinea and Tonga in separate seismic shakeups. This period also includes the 7.6 magnitude quake in Pakistan.

But that doesn't mean any of it was related, according to the China Post. At least, they thought it didn't in 2006. But what about now? Are we in for another seismic rumbler of a year?

Something to keep in mind whilst booking my vacation, at any rate.

Think before you eat

The traditional food fad has me worried. Throw it in with all the hubbub about "recession grocery shopping" and it's enough to make me...snack on something.

In recent months, certain prominent chefs and foodies have been praising the return to "traditional" and "local" foods. In the northern hemisphere, this entails eating seasonal veggies, making use of wild game, planning weekly meals more carefully, eating out less, and the resurgence of hearty meals from Grandma's cookbook.

I applaud eating local produce and meat. I also applaud keeping food traditions alive. Where this movement falls apart is in portion control and frequency.

Traditionally, our grandparents and great-grandparents lived in a more physically active world. They walked a lot more, worked in more manually taxing positions, and burned a great deal more calories in a day than I would in a week. In winter, they were often exposed to the cold and lived/worked in colder, draftier buildings. Colder temperatures mean more calories needed to keep the body warm.

Those comforting pot pies, roasts, and bakes provided those people with the calories they needed to get through the day. However many articles I type, I will never burn the equivalent amount of energy.

Therein lies the problem. Our diets do not reflect the change in our lifestyle. We are fat, and getting fatter. The more sedate we become, the worse the problem will become. Next thing you know, we'll be drinking food through straws, zooming around on hover beds in a robot world.

I like roasts. I like pot pie, potato scallop, pork chops fried in mushroom gravy, Yorkshire pies, and meatloaf. Don't even get me started on desserts. The secret is that I don't eat them every day.

Some restaurants will serve you an obscene amount of food, much more than you could possibly eat. The more expensive the restaurant, the more controlled and realistic the portion.

The problem? Cash strapped individuals eating at cheaper joints, consuming more food. These same people are also cracking open the cookbook and making their own food more often.

The second problem is that most recipes provide a minimum of four servings. Left overs are wasteful, right? No one charges you for a refill or a second plate. Good thing you have more sense than that.

Or do we?

Moderation seems to be a foreign concept. We white Westerners are already more obese than anyone else in the world.

Think before you feed.