I love you, The Flask, but I think we should break up. It’s just not working any more. I don’t know who you are these days, or what happened to the Flask I used to know. The Flask I fell in love with, the dusty labyrinth of special spots and comfy corners and long afternoons kissed away in a blur of laughs just doesn’t feel the same any more. The beers (Honey Dew, Butcombe, Fruli) and the memories are still there but the vibe’s died a bit of a death. I know, I know, the garden’s still beautiful, the owners are the same and the spot, tucked away down a quiet side street, is one of the finest in London, but something doesn’t feel right.
I can’t help thinking of all the times you let me down. That time late last summer, when I walked all the way from Finsbury Park up the deserted railway line for you, and you served up unpeeled, almost raw carrots. Or the time this spring, when I tried introducing you to my friends, and the food came out cold. They’d come over from Notting Hill. That was just embarrassing.
It’s not like I haven’t given you enough chances. I ditched the Spaniards for you again yesterday, hoping that a new chef might sort you out. Again I hoofed over from miles away and gave up my Sunday for you. And you served up cold meals delivered by a cold server in a Ramones t-shirt. Really? C’mon…
So by the way your burger was way too pink for someone that wasn’t given a choice. Your chips had all the charm of a bus driver and your roasts were as flashy as Charlie Watts. Sure, your caramelised onions still get me, and I’m going to miss that rich gravy. But you can keep your roasties, relics of veg, thin-sliced meat, and that piece of crackling giving me the finger, and give me back that money you owe me OK? I think it was about £17.
This is really hard. Maybe we should try a trial separation. I’ll probably come crawling back soon enough anyway.
Soundtrack: Nada, but apropos of nothing why not check out Bristolian bass man Phaeleh. He’s good.
Clientele: A mix of AA Gill’s pensioners in xxxtreme weather-wear and a guy that looked like Wolverine auditioning for Gallows.