Modigliani and chips: I hope this worthy little venture succeeds, but doubt its chances. On the other hand, I’m often wrong.
A while ago as I scurried along to catch the train to London a man with a clipboard stopped me.
He wanted my views on an idea for a new restaurant in Bristol’s Harbourside. The idea was to have a place where you could have a good meal and buy art.
Artists have long swapped food for art. The two are boon companions. Modigliani is one famous example. I used to drink from time to time with the late Peter Langan; his restaurants were and are full of pictures by people like Hockney, though I never asked if they were in exchange for slap up meals.
Anyhow I said three things to this man. First, bars and restaurants around there have been having a thin time; second, an art gallery within 100 yards of where we were speaking had just gone broke; and third, never, never go on what people think about an idea.
The first two speak for themselves; the third is relevant because what people think they will do has little bearing on what they end up doing – a reason why some 90% of new product launches fail.
But on top of that, people don’t like to pour cold water on your idea, so they are kind. I imagine many, too, are reluctant to admit the truth – they have no interest in art, have never bought an original in their lives and are highly unlikely to now.
Anyhow, today when I went to have my regular espresso near where that interview took place, I saw a sign for a new restaurant called Steak Of The Art. It is not well situated -just round the corner from Hooters, which went broke, and from the Art Gallery that closed down.
Despite the abuse of the English language, if this venture succeeds I will be delighted, but amazed. The only thing that could just turn the trick is if the food is utterly amazing. A good product will often trump bad marketing.
I waa reminded of that when a couple of years ago I predicted that a pub near us would never do well as they conducted no real marketing whatever, relying on passing trade in a good position, good food and excellent refurbished decor.
So much for my expertise. They are thriving.
But going back to our artistic friends, what can you do with steak that hasn’t been done in London – superbly – by Gaucho, or quite competently by Marco Pierre White in Bristol?
Modigliani starved to death, by the way.
The real danger in mixing these two is in understanding both and doing them equally well. Make a slip and this can turn into pretentious bollocks. Food gets ponced up all the time.
Take the humble food truck? Why do modern ones have to have three wheels, corrugated sides and a posh twat with a beard, tattoos and a flat hat waffling about the organic Angus mince he uses for the burger.
I was taking a skive at lunch and visited Fortnum and Masons. They had some “Himalayan salt aged rib eye steaks”. Now that got me interested. It’s very specific and very artisan. That has a real story behind it, surely? It also probably deserves a lot more respect than being served up in somewhere with a whimsical name.
Food is like art, it should have depth, fun and … taste.
The funny thing is right outside the site of the new restaurant, just such a poncy truck parks most days and sells hamburgers. I tried to buy one the other day.
They took so long to serve I just gave up. Not because there was a big queue. Just incompetence. Marta was with me. She said, the boss should go and work at MacDonald’s to see how it’s done. I said that was exactly what I had been thinking. And I had.
Just before reading these comments I tried a sip of a cheap Sainsbury wine I just bought to make asparagus risotto. The label said it had a zesty citrus taste. What bollocks. It tasted metallic, like empty tin cans. Who writes this rubbish?