Settling down for a coffee and a tart on a Sunday morning, newspapers under one arm and my wife hugging the other, should be the easiest thing to arrange. The simply gorgeous Bridge in shoreditch however gets the basics wrong.
Taking over one of London's prettiest and narrowest pubs, full of gilt mirrors and aged wooden paneling then adding kitsch curtains, modern-retro chandeliers and a coffee machine has resulted in a wonderful place to sit, smile and ponder. It's a cross between a Dutch Brown bar and Les Trios Garcons.
So what went wrong? The service.
It all looked so promising; as we walked in, hoping for a seat at the busy bar, we were grumpily greeted by the barista (owner?) He suggested we sit upstairs on one of his comfy sofas. We took a look upstairs, so cosy & so shoreditch, but fancied the bar. As we walked downstairs a pair of hipsters left and we grabbed two seats right in the middle of the bar. Sunday morning heaven awaited. And waited and waited. For 15 minutes we were completley ignored, as over a dozen other customers were greeted and served we sat and watched. Inexperince was overflowing. I've seen so many shops and restaurants failed by managers who never look up. On a busy day they constantly run from one thing to another without thinking that It may be better to take a deep breath and compose themselves. Serving half the customers well then upsetting the other is a recipe to failure. If he stood and composed for a while he'd realise that working hard is not enough and he needs more than 2 staff to cater for thirty covers. Creating the admittedly limited dishes on offer (panini / toast & Jam etc) behind the bar is too much to do.
A man two down from me ordered six paninis and six coffees, the manager-less manager turned and started to make them all at once and straight away.
We walked out and idled over to Conran's always good Albion. The young guns may be ambitious but the old bucks seem to have the skills.
