Every time statistics are released about our lunching habits, I become ever more depressed. Apparently, as many as seven in ten of us fail to leave our desks during so-called ‘lunch hour’, miserably chomping on our identikit meal deal or Pret sandwiches. And, of course, very few of us ever manage to take anything like the amount of time we’re supposedly due for our lunches.
A recent survey revealed that the median amount of time that we have as our midday breaks is a trifling 34 minutes. But, from a legal perspective, this is more than our due. Government guidelines declare: ‘Workers have the right to one uninterrupted 20-minute rest break during their working day, if they work more than six hours a day. This could be a tea or lunch break.’ Alternatively, it could be a short period of howling at the thought that other European countries – the civilised ones – actually allow workers to enjoy their lunchtimes whereas we are stuck in a joyless purgatory, scoffing limp sandwiches into our mouths so we can get back to our afternoon screen sessions as quickly as possible.
It is no way to live and several of London’s leading restaurateurs are up in arms about the idea that we should eschew the pleasures of a lengthy afternoon with friends, loved ones or even – and I am aware this might be a stretch in many organisations – colleagues in favour of a miserly little meal al desko.
For Jeremy King, restaurateur extraordinaire and maestro behind Simpson’s in the Strand, it is something to be dealt with. As he tells me: ‘Lunch is definitely not in decline and I don’t think the desire for a long lunch is either. What is in decline is our willingness to protect the time for it. People are busier, diaries are fuller and many of us have become obsessed with efficiency, often hiding behind our emails. Yet, whenever the opportunity presents itself, people still relish the chance to spend a leisurely afternoon around a table, face to face with someone. The long lunch hasn’t disappeared but it has become a treat.’
This opportunity for a treat is one that I was privileged enough to take lately – purely in the interests of journalistic research, of course – when I headed to one of London’s most storied fish restaurants, Bentley’s, which is celebrating its 110th anniversary. Everyone from royalty to cinematic aristocracy has, at some time or another, enjoyed a lengthy lunch in either the restaurant’s luxuriant banquettes or, in clement weather, on the terrace outside in the heart of Mayfair.
We are stuck in a joyless purgatory, scoffing limp sandwiches into our mouths so we can get back to our afternoon screen sessions as quickly as possible
It isn’t at all hard to see why Bentley’s continues to draw crowds who wish to relax over a good three or four courses. They might begin with some of London’s best oysters – perhaps Irish or Jersey – then move on to signature dishes of Cornish squid or Devon smoked eel to start, followed by tuna steak au poivre or monkfish curry for mains, and conclude with a quintessentially English pudding of rhubarb and ginger trifle or even the smirkingly named ‘tart on the bar’. (Rest assured that even a good couple of glasses of the Charles Heidsieck house champagne or the excellent London Cru chardonnay will stop all but the most bibulous luncher from making some unfortunate innuendo.)
Bentley’s is now run by Irish chef and restaurateur Richard Corrigan, who sees his role as much as a custodian of a great London lunching institution as a businessman. ‘When I took the restaurant on in 2005, it had lost its way a bit, and I was determined to return it to its former glory,’ he tells me. ‘It was never meant to be a stuffy fish restaurant. We wanted our guests to come in for a cocktail, a few oysters and a carafe of wine over lunch and, most importantly, some of the finest seafood in London.’
It serves over 1,000 oysters a day now and Corrigan believes the secret to Bentley’s success is to turn lunch into a theatrical experience. ‘Hospitality is not a relay race. Let your guests settle, let them hear about the specials, order the champagne, the fresh bread, the oysters… and enjoy themselves. Hospitality is about generosity, both in your cooking and in your countenance. I, for one, can never enjoy myself if I’m being told where the door is in two hours’ time.’
Most Spectator Life readers will know the occasional joy of what Nigel Farage famously calls ‘a proper fucking lunch’. These affairs might be bad for one’s health – physical and financial – if they take place too often. However relaxing in somewhere like Bentley’s or Simpson’s makes the world seem a better, happier place for a few hours. As Corrigan says: ‘You’ll never regret a good lunch.’ And that is not something one can say of a couple of pieces of bread eaten at a desk while staring at a screen. Live a little, and you won’t regret it.
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