£700 for a steak? £9.50 for a plate of broccoli? Former food critic Jan Moir is sickened by today’s rip-off restaurants
There comes an age when you get to a certain age – and that is the age when you are crumbling inside like a landslip, but determined to present a Mount Rushmore-strength façade of youthful capability to the outside world. Those who have gone before you, those who have already tottered down this path of incipient doddery, often leave helpful hints to navigate the terrain. Here is rule number one; never complain about the price of anything, because nothing is more ageing. Too true – but who said it first? Dame Joan Collins? Haile Selassie? Obviously, I can’t remember. Obviously, I had to Google ‘American presidents carved in stone’ to retrieve the Mount Rushmore reference and slip it back into a dusty file in the Jan-brain, where it promptly disappeared into the Jan-ether once more. Obviously, intensifying age means I now complain about the price of everything, especially when in...
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