SShortly after opening his restaurant in North London, Hugh Corcoran noticed a pattern among some of his guests: large groups were ordering tap water, starters and main courses to share. So he took to social media. “Restaurants are not public banks,” he wrote on his Instagram last week. “You are there to spend money.”
By the weekend, his post had attracted 150 comments, with some accusing him of being tone-deaf, others agreeing. Whatever the case, a discourse emerged.
The Belfast-born chef opened The Yellow Bittern three weeks ago. It has three employees, seats 18 people and is only open for lunch on weekdays. To reserve a table, call the landline or send a postcard. Oddly enough, it’s not on Instagram.
This early in life he shouldn’t be in a position to change the way we eat. And yet Corcoran, thanks to its famous cakes (“we make cakes when we feel like cakes”), its penchant for the long boozy lunch and its old-fashioned setup – it’s also cash only – attracts guests who take offense and divide. with being told there is a good way to have lunch.
“There is etiquette everywhere – theaters, bars – simple manners. In the cinema you don’t talk and you go to a restaurant when you’re ready to eat, as a treat,” he says. “If you’re not hungry, don’t go.”
His preference is for at least one plate per person, “but one starter and two main courses between four, that is simply not acceptable”.
These are tough times for new restaurants. Financing takes years of work. Then there are rising food prices. Add to that the current climate for the hospitality industry: an estimated 60% close within the first year. So why does Corcoran make his guests angry?
He makes reservations by phone because “in London everyone got into the ‘just in case’ craze: book online and then cancel.” The cash-only policy is the last vestige of privacy. That, and atmosphere. “Cards leave out interesting people in society who have cash in hand. To be honest, I would also prefer it if customers did not use their telephone.”
The real problem, he says, lies in “restaurant tourism – going to a place to show you’ve been there, without actually eating”. That, and what’s known as “window dining.”
Two recent diners, he says, ordered half the menu, took photos but didn’t touch the food. “It all went into the trash,” he says. “We don’t want to forcibly feed people. And you can share food. But if I get a stick because I oppose it, then so be it.’
Jan Ostle runs Wilson’s, a small but critically acclaimed farm-to-table restaurant in Bristol, which opened in 2016. “Sometimes people come in and just order a main course, and all your projections get mangled,” he agrees. “The problem is that people like to go out and feel rich, but they can’t afford it.”
“Most restaurants today have to navigate two lines – first as a local restaurant with regular customers, and second as a destination,” Ostle says. “It’s nice to have both, and we do that. But if someone comes in, takes pictures and doesn’t seem to care about the food, that’s the modern world. You need a thick skin for it.”
Annie Gray, a food historian, blames Covid – and years of austerity – for the divide. “People have been given the right to it. The hospitality industry has been hit hard: Covid, budget cuts, the cost of living crisis, the overseas workforce. But that doesn’t necessarily matter to the guests, because they have also experienced it and spent money,” she says.
This is not lost on Corcoran. Ultimately, he doesn’t want people to eat nothing, but to photograph everything.