I keep on my bedside table, where others might place religious texts, Keith Waterhouse’s seminal The Theory and Practice of Lunch. Waterhouse, that magnificent chronicler of Fleet Street’s liquid lunches and disappearing afternoons, understood what modern efficiency cultists cannot: that civilisation is measured not by what we produce but by how elegantly we pause. His gospel preaches that a proper lunch requires ‘two-and-a-half hours of quality time at a quality establishment’, a commandment I try to observe with monastic devotion at least twice a week.
The book’s spine is cracked at the chapter entitled ‘The Lunch Bore’. I have found this section invaluable in identifying – and subsequently avoiding – those melancholy souls who view lunch as mere refuelling rather than the cornerstone of cultural achievement. Waterhouse should be required reading for anyone who has ever uttered the words ‘working breakfast’, ‘grab a quick bite’ or, God forbid, ‘lunch meeting’.
My baptism into hardcore lunch culture came at the age of 23 when I produced the much-missed Steve Wright for Radio 1. Every day, record company pluggers – those silver-tongued evangelists of soon-to-be hits – competed for airtime through the ancient art of gastric seduction. These midday feasts initiated me into a parallel London where lunch wasn’t just sustenance but sport and ritual, all served with a side of gossip.
The expense accounts flowed as freely as the alcohol at now-vanished temples of indulgence: Odette’s in Primrose Hill with its perfectly judged French sophistication; Hiroko’s hushed Japanese sanctuary near Bond Street, where sake appeared without request; and (look away, kids) a place called School Dinners round the back of Baker Street, where grown men dined on nursery teas and spotted dick served by waitresses dressed as schoolgirls who then administered playful canings between courses.
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in