Let’s stop paying catering firms more than the cost of a Michelin-starred meal for grim chicken and sauces that could creosote fences
A while back I received an email accusing me of snobbery. Just another day at the office, then. My crime that day was to have said during an episode of MasterChef that a dessert “looked like the sort of thing served at a cheap wedding full of regret held at a hotel on a ring road”. My correspondent’s stepdaughter had apparently just got married at a ring road hotel and it had been lovely. “I’m sure it was,” I replied, “but was it also full of regret? Because if it wasn’t, it isn’t covered by my critique.” I may be a snob, but I’m a precise snob.
The touchiness shouldn’t have surprised me. When it comes to food at weddings people are like that. A wedding is one of life’s great set piece events, upon which the compass flickers. Accordingly everything about them must be perfect, even when everything plainly isn’t. And now it’s June, and wedding season is upon us. For the next few months many of us will be putting on suits and frocks smelling of dry cleaning fluid, and tramping into baggy marquees where we will eat some of the worst, most overpriced food ever inflicted upon us by people who claim to be our dearest friends. And then, regardless of how dismal it all was, we will loudly proclaim the opposite. In the coming months more lies will be told about the quality of lunch and dinner than in the rest of the year put together.