MUSE at the Seaside; The Elephant

I'm off to see Muse in Teignmouth tomorrow. Not only a chance to see a leading light of the prog-rock renaissance but also to visit my mum (in Torquay) and hopefully fit in lunch at the always delightful Elephant. I was there in July, not long before the cameras moved in to turn the place into a set for a mini series (some bodice buster I hear.) As ever the food was top, and it's interesting to see how the presentation of even simple dishes like fish and chips has evolved, the Marco Pierre White inspited Jenga of chips now being replaced by a rather more tumbledown heap.

I always rave about The Elephant, in part because it's not really had a fair shake in the "real" reviews. The Guardian's Matthew Norman in particular gave it a rather snide review a couple of years ago that spoke far more of his prejudices than Hulstone's pretentions. Ok, we all know Norman is a cock, but that particular review has always nagged at me. Yes, I spend a lot of time eating in the biggest of cities - London, San Francisco, Tokyo et al. But I come from a background of enjoying quality restaurants in the small towns of Lancashire and Yorkshire, places that existed to serve the special occasions of local communities and where the food was often accompanied by schtick that wouldn't play in Manchester or London, but which made magic in the hearts of people for whom eating like this was an occasion. We've all done it right? Taken someone who doesn't eat in starred restaurants out for dinner and seen the place through their eyes. "It's the best meal I've ever had," they invariably say, about a place that we are coldly giving a mental 3 out of 5. There's a lesson there. Ever since I realised how Norman's review made me feel - like I was a rube for loving a place like "that" - I've done my damndest to think like a local when I write about anywhere I eat. That doesn't mean assuming they have no taste and cutting the place too much slack; for me it means looking at the guy at the table next to me and seeing if he's left anything on his plate, whether he's got a smile on his face, whether he pays the cheque with relish. Because we are never eating alone, and it's lame to review as if we are.