Limited options

I think we've already established in this blog that I am not very adventurous when it comes to food. It is unusual for me to try something new, but it does occasionally happen. For instance, I sometimes order my Veggie Delite at Subway in a wrap rather than on Italian herbs and cheese. Crazy, I know!

Of course, one can only do those sorts of things at restaurants that are willing to embrace very limited changes in their clients' regular orders. If you were such a person, imagine how excited you would be if you saw this:



Oooo, the possibilities!

Any portion of kebab, they say! You start wondering if maybe you should go beyond your normal order of lamb. Perhaps they have chicken kebab! Beef kebab! Offal kebab! (Which is in fact the Latin name for all types of kebab, regardless of what meat they're meant to be formed from.) The possibilities suddenly seem endless. And then you see this:

Oh, OK. I guess I'll have lamb again then.

Be consistent

In Herne Hill, Tulse Hill's upscale neighbour, there is a lovely fish and chip shop. Olley's is very much the pride of my part of South London. It is regularly named as one of the best chippies in the country and if you go to the takeaway section you can gaze at the photos of all the celebrities who have dined there (Jo Brand – quite impressive; Phil Gayle of The Big Breakfast – not quite as impressive; Anjelica Huston – perhaps I need new glasses).

On high days and holidays, I like to treat myself to a trip to this excellent establishment. The only problem is that it shuts one day a week. And I can NEVER remember which day it is. Only that it is always shut on that day. See, that's the thing about Olley's. It's consistent. Unlike this place, which would probably cause my brain to melt entirely:

Law breaker

I have a nasty habit of abiding by the rules. This post, then, is a little nerve wracking for me. You see, I'm going to be breaking the law. Here's why:

But you won't sue me, right?

It is therefore with a slight frisson of excitement (I'm a rebel at last!) that I give you this confusing logo:

Oooo, I could murder a pizza. Call Pizza Ring, you say? Yeah, trouble is if you ring them they bring fried chicken ribs.

I have nothing

I've noticed that most menus promise you something – if not an incredible dining experience then at the very least a free bottle of fizzy pop. All credit to this establishment, then, which has decided to stand out from the crowd by promising the exact opposite:


But then what's left?

I'm intrigued by exactly what "take away the eating experience" means. I order food, they deliver it, then they take it away? Maybe they don't do food at all, only drinks? Or maybe they deliver all their dishes in pureed form and with a complimentary naso-gastric tube? It's a mystery.

Be modest

Self-promotion is never something which has come easily to me. I think most of us are like that, really – the product of being told as children that we shouldn't show off; that we should be modest about our talents; that we shouldn't let on that Mrs Edwards said at parents' evening that we were better at English than our best friend. (That last one might just have been me).

It seems that restaurants also have these worries:

No, no, don't put five stars for food and service! That looks boastful! No, three looks like we think we're rubbish. Put four. We're good, but we're modest.

Is there parking?

I don't own a car but, if I did, I imagine one of my major concerns would be finding a space in which to park it. London isn't really known for its abundance of cheap parking, you see. Fortunately, one of my local takeaways is sympathetic to these worries and only too ready to reassure:

Er... where?

Lost and found

Don't you just hate it when you lose something? Like, say, a letter of the alphabet?

Now where did I put that second "e" at the end of Tennessee?

But isn't it such a lovely relief when you find the lost item?

Ah! There it is! Hmmm... along with a random "s".