I had, without a doubt, the worst dining experience ever, in
London last night at Downtown Mayfair "Cipriani" (15 New Burlington Place)
First and foremost, what set the wrong mood off very early
in the night was the service, or OVER service if I can give a name to it. It was extremely disruptive and
intrusive all night long. Like
parent to kid, hanging over the dinner table saying, “drink all your milk and
finish your dinner or no dessert”.
Why I didn’t ask the server to back away and give us some space, I do
not know. We were 7 people seated at an oval table and if the server leaned
over me once, he leaned over me 40+ times to pour water, wine, more water, more
wine, pass plates, pick up plates, and pour more wine. It was completely
unnecessary. His arm was in my
face all night. And I mean, between bites of food, I had to put down my fork
and lean back for fear of getting elbowed in my nose. All by a waiter wearing a white dinner jacket and bow tie,
circa 1960, Casablanca. If this is
the only way to reach someone in that corner, than this table is too small for
7 ppl.
Food was entirely average. If all else fails, I’ve always
known Cipriani to serve wonderful food. Not last night. Or, is it that this food is just passé?
But then, great food is never passé, so I think its just lazy cooking at this
stage of this brand. My salad was
below average. A bowl, a small bowl no less, of chopped cucumber, avocado – not
ripe enough – and tomatoes, thrown together. That’s it. Not terrible, but its something anyone can manage
to make at home. At Jean-George in
NYC, I once ordered a tomato as an appetizer. That’s it. Just a tomato. It was the most exquisitely prepared tomato known to man. Presented like a piece of art and that
flavor is still with me long after its not offered the menu any more. I assure you this cucumber, avocado,
tomato salad was a long, long way off of that. Not an ounce of anything special
about this.
Cipriani can do pasta I understand. I had A’matriciana. Fine. But fine is not fine, if you know
what I mean. Frankly, it was too oily and too much sauce vs. quantity of
pasta.
Atmosphere in the restaurant is non-existent. No music, unless you count a group of
12 singing “happy birthday” to a family member. I thought I was in a sports bar for that minute, but then I
realized otherwise. It was the
servers buzzing around in their white dinner jackets and bow ties, singing
madam this and madam that. I
wonder where the cigarette girls where. They would have completed the
picture. And the book shelf with
the contrived arrangement of books made to look like people read “Porsche” or
“What to Cook and How to Cook it” all the while waiting for your food to be
brought to you. Who concocted that as good restaurant design? Or is that what the waiter was leaning
in for, actually? A good read.
And then, the inevitable: the bill arrives.
And it’s extortionate. Almost uncomfortable. Of course the prices are on the menu, but when you are
hit with a bill of hundreds and hundreds ….and hundreds more £ pounds, you
think the better of the choice to come here to begin with. The “buffet” of desserts that our
server brought to the center of our table, was pithy, fluffy and amateur. All white, all meringue of some shape
and at bill time, I notice first that they are £11 each. I didn’t know whether to laugh or
cry.
