Buffets are bollocks. Raw oysters sit uncomfortably next to tandoori kebabs, bacon and chips, taramasalata and the hotplate. The jack-of-all-restaurants that line the streets of Britain are little different. North of the border, there's the ubiquitous quartet; fish & chips, kebabs and pizza. In London, there's this awful mess of places offering Chinese and Korean, Thai and Chinese or Chinese, Japanese and Thai all under one unlikely roof. Such large and unlikely variety sets my alarm bells ringing and my purse strings tightening.
It's a sentiment Frank Bruni echoes in a review on Diner's Journal,
In three cases out of four, if you show me a restaurant with 120 dishes, I'll show you a restaurant where the difference in quality between the best and worst of those dishes is enormous... with a short menu, the stakes -- and expectations -- are somewhat raised.
The most popular restaurant near my gaff serves just one dish. There are long queues down the street every lunchtime and every dinnertime every day of every week. While I don't dig buffets, love my no choice menus, one dish street stalls and house specialities, that ain't no panacea. There are other risks that come with an intenser focus on a minimal and repetitive number of dishes. Like laziness and insanity. Imagine being a chef in a one dish joint; same dish, same ingredients, day in day out. Most chefs are a bit bonkers, but working in a joint like this would hasten the descent, surely.
