I haven’t had a proper rant for a while. Time to remedy that. This one is dedicated to  my mate Kev, who thinks the height of sophisticated mockery is to stand outside the entrance to the local gym scoffing a bacon, sausage, and egg baguette. I totally agree with him that this is acceptable behaviour.

There’s a new culinary trend that is driving me bananas. My eyes roll so hard my vertigo starts up. I refer to the increasingly common affectation that is ‘deconstructed’ food and drink.

I think this all started in the coffee shops of Hipster Central in Hoxton. The idea is that if you ask for a latte, that’s not what you get. What you get is an espresso, some hot water, and some milk. Separately. You then adopt a DIY approach.

You all know me. I hate the poncey presentational trends. The ‘plates vs slates’ argument has already been won in my head.


When I want a coffee, on the rare occasions that I do, I want it made for me, and in a proper cup. I do NOT want this piece of chichi nonsense. What’s with the laboratory beakers, eh? And on a board FFS.

more coffee

Believe it or don’t, nowadays if you order apple crumble (if you’re in one of those faux prole gaffs where they charge you thirty quid for fish and chips), you’re likely not to get a big dollop of mixed up crumble, heavily doused in thick custard. Oh no. Oh dearie me no.

What you get is some stewed apple (or in extreme cases a baked apple), some crumble topping, and bloody ice cream. WTF is that all about? Note also the niggardly portions. It’s nouvelle cuisine all over again, and the concept was crap then, and crap now. Move along. Nothing to see here. Almost literally.


The most stupid incarnation is probably deconstructed sushi, for goodness sake. I don’t mind sushi, and one of the reasons I like it is because of the presentation. It’s a very elegant form of food, and takes quite a lot of time and effort to prep. Well, not if you deconstruct it doesn’t.


This looks more akin to something you cobble together when you’re a student, stoned off your head and with the resultant raging munchies, scrabbling about in the fridge* for any leftovers. Or something the cat pukes up when it’s been eating grass. It’s rice, fish, seafood, and seaweed in a bowl, right? It’s not sushi, and I don’t care how hip you are, nor how much you spend on beard grooming products.

When I was at university, this sort of effort was called a ‘scromlette.’ IT’S NOT SODDING SUSHI!

*Perhaps not even your fridge if I recollect my own student days.