Tonight we Dining Hell

As Tolstoy might have said, All good reviews are pretty much alike but all bad reviews are bad in their own particular way. Good restaurant review: 'this is a clean and pleasant restaurant, the food was good, the service was helpful but unobtrusive, the cost was reasonable'. Bad review: well, take it away maestro.

The 'maestro' in this case being the Guardian and Masterchef's Jay Rayner, son of agony aunt Claire Rayner, who opened his show 'My Dining Hell: An evening of food and agony' at the Rose of Kingston by the endearing observation, "There can't be much else on in Kingston on a Tuesday night." I would concur, despite there being a big band night at the Old Moot House on London Road. He went on to give us his rundown of the most meretricious restaurants in London - with slides - many of which are fortunately not there any more. The only one I've been to is Bloom's and that many years ago. Then there was the restaurant that only does steak and crabs - described as 'testosterone central' (or something like that, you want quotes take a recorder). And Novikov, which I won't even describe but he wouldn't go there on moral grounds and when he did it looked like a mediocre pizza parlour. Then there was the wine list with bottles of wine for five thousand quid. Yes this was a tour to announce his new book ("My Dining Hell") but why not? At least Rayner, who has a Rabelaisian look to him suitable to a restaurant critic, is entertaining. I get the distinct impression that AA Gill for example doesn't actually like anything or anybody. There was a Q and A session afterwards but unfortunately despite my hand being up I wasn't called (what I was going to say: what do you think about the tendency to serve food on things that aren't plates? And what are the other fads you'd like to see disappear? Fortunately he's already answered that here: http://www.jayrayner.co.uk/news/these-are-a-few-of-my-most-hated-things/

In the interval I bought an ice cream and went wandering down by the river, rather than queue up for drinks from the Rose's bar which has not been a good place for me on several occasions. Who knew Jay Rayner also plays jazz piano? Second half was a quartet doing some classy numbers interspersed by tales of growing up with a sex advice columnist for a mother. Glad I stayed.

Originally I was going to call in at the Ram just down the road for a pint afterwards but having stayed for the music wandered home through a dark, cold Kingston town, past Fairfield, sticking to the lit pavements like chewing gum.