Saturday Syndrome at Daphne’s
By The Prodigal Fool, published on 16 August 2010
We’ve made an astonishing scientific breakthrough, dear readers. Yes, that’s right, your friends at The Prodigal Guide -while stumbling around life’s frivolous sidelines, drunk and mostly disorderly – have chanced upon an, as yet, undiscovered – certainly not yet properly documented – new syndrome.
Our dictionary defines a syndrome as “a group of symptoms that consistently occur together or a condition characterized by a set of associated symptoms.” Well, let us tell you then something of our discovery: the dreaded Saturday Syndrome or SS.
For those of you unfamiliar with the ailment, let’s start with some context.
Saturday Syndrome is characterised by a general malaise that is at first hard to pinpoint. The patient might, for example, survey a room that, on the surface at least, seems correct: good decor, pleasant ambiance, the right neighbourhood. But he or she will be unable to shake the feeling that something just ‘ain’t quite right’.
It occurs most specifically in otherwise terrific restaurants that – for the other six days of the week – are stylish, pleasant places to be. The syndrome derives its name not from the world-renowned bon-vivant who first discovered it (Foolish Syndrome somehow didn’t sound right) but rather the day of the week on which it invariably occurs.
Years of study have concluded that the symptoms consistently combine only on a Saturday.
They are collectively knows as ‘Saturday diners’ and they invariably:
- Hold their knifes like a pen: Saturday diners, it would seem, are under the misapprehension that a knife is something you write with rather than cut your food with. We can’t imagine where they were the day everyone else was shown how to use cutlery properly but somehow they missed it.
- Fail to tuck in their shirts: Under the incredible misapprehension that it somehow makes them look younger or perhaps more fashionable, the male of the species will leave his shirt hanging out of his trousers, dangling around like some odd, primeval appendage.
- Get up to go to the loo at the worst times: Whether they’re ‘powdering their noses’ or they simply suffer from the inevitable side-effects of combining weak bladders with two pints of strong continental lager before the meal, we can’t say. We suspect the latter. Either way, Saturday diners spend a lot of time – the wrong time – in the loo while their fellow diners continue to eat without them.
- Use mobile phones at table: In an extremely ill-advised effort to demonstrate how terribly important they are, phones will be prodded, shared and, worst of all, sometimes spoken in to during the meal.
- Brandish forks to accentuate a point: Presumably because their actual words are not persuasive or attention-grabbing enough, Saturday diners will often wave their forks around in the air as they speak. In the best-case scenario, the fork has been relieved of its food content first. The best-case scenario does not always present itself.
- Wear a suit: The only people who should wear a suit on a Saturday are estate agents. Ahhh…
- Dress in a completely mismatched fashion: Whether it’s the cocktail dress accompanied by the man in a polo shirt and shorts or the chap in his best three piece suit (see above) with a companion who really ought to have upgraded from her Juicy Couture all-in-one, Saturday diners just all are too often desperately mismatched sartorially.
- Are uncomfortable and ill at ease: Perhaps because he or she is simply not used to eating out, the Saturday diner will often reak of insecurity. This will often result in couples who sit like church mice barely raising their voices above a whisper or, worse, the opposite: those who over-compensate by being boisterous and loud. Relax kids; it’s just a restaurant.
SS is particularly rampant during the summer months when the more distinguished locals tend to abandon London for their summer holidays, leaving behind a horde of curious, savaging out-of-towners who finally find themselves able to book a table at “that posh place they’ve read about on the ‘net.”
With all of these symptoms occurring in the background, it’s impossible to really enjoy your night out, even if you are eating in one of London’s best restaurants. That’s Saturday Syndrome for you folks and it’s exactly what struck us down this weekend at Daphne’s. Every single one of the symptoms manifested itself. Every. Single. One.
The syndrome is all the more pronounced when it hits in a restaurant that you already know and love. It’s accentuated because you have memories of evenings there without SS’s symptoms gnawing away at you in the background. This is exactly what happened to us at our last visit to Daphne’s which, let’s be clear, is not doing anything to encourage Saturday Syndrome and – on a week night – is one of our favourite London Italians.
So, SS certainly took its toll on our evening but Daphne’s did its damndest to compensate. The food and service – as ever – was superb.
Feeling hungry, we opted to start with some pasta and risotto. The Fool chose Linguine alle Vongole. It was fantastic: just the right amount of garlic and chilli to make things interesting, fresh parsley, linguine al dente and – controversially – some cherry tomatoes that really worked. He was convinced he’d surely hit the jackpot. Until, that is, he tasted Lady B’s Risotto ai Funghi. Wonderful, nutty girolle mushrooms in a risotto that was perfectly cooked: not too dry, not too sloppy.
Come the second course though it was The Fool’s turn to take the prize for best order. The Agnello con Bietola e Finferli was billed as being made with chanterelle mushrooms but when it arrived, they looked very much like the girolles from Lady B’s risotto. Absolutely no complaints from us. The lamb was tasty and perfectly executed: the little pieces had hints of crispy brown fat yet the meat was pink and succulent. Lady B was less pleased with her Costoletta alla Milanese which she declared to be “a little too thick”. We asked for a side order of Melanzane alla Parmigiana which we were delighted with.
No doubt about it, Daphne’s remains a dependable, class act. A warm welcome; great food, an elegant atmosphere and charming service all conspire to make it one of our favourites.
We’ll certainly be back. On a week night.
Daphne’s, 112 Draycott Avenue, London SW3 3AE, Tel: +44 20 7589 4257, Twitter: @CapriceHoldings
Saturday Syndrome at Daphne’s
We’ve made an astonishing scientific breakthrough, dear readers. Yes, that’s right, your friends at The Prodigal Guide -while stumbling around life’s frivolous sidelines, drunk and mostly disorderly – have chanced upon an, as yet, undiscovered – certainly not yet properly documented – new syndrome. Our dictionary defines a syndrome as “a group of symptoms that [...]
2 Responses to “Saturday Syndrome at Daphne’s”
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Daphne’s for years has been delightful for authentic, fine Italian food AND the entertainment some guests deliver for everyone present. I particularily enjoyed your remarks on untucked shirts and mismatched fashion! Allow me not to agree with your opinion on suits though – looking like an estate agent, no matter which day of the week simply means one thing: Wrong suit for the man. A suit on Saturday can be as casual as some jeans with a great shirt. No tie of course, but a sleek cut and some accessories chosen with sartorial taste….And not to forget that SS can also translate into ‘Sharp Saturday’, which can make a man look fantastic at Daphnes for lunch that day!
Patito
19 August 2010
Not so angry, Mr Fool!