A motorway meal fails to fill the Watford gap

PAV’S PATCH:

I ENJOY reading obituaries and I reckon the best on offer are in The Economist. Last month they printed a brilliant one about Egon Ronay, the food critic.

Did you know that when he was asked to name his most truly unforgettable meal he chose not something he had eaten in a five-star restaurant but a cup of tea at London’s Victoria train station? Allow me to quote:

“It was, in fact, a mere cup of tea, costing a few pence, bought around 1950. It came from a big tea-urn at the corner of the counter, dispensed by a woman who slopped it into the cup and then indicated the sugar. That was heaped in a bowl, and dangling near the bowl was a spoon, which had somehow been tied to the ceiling with string so that customers would not steal it.”

This set me thinking about my own most truly unforgettable meal. Or should that be awful meal? The easy thing would be to refer to one of the many totally inedible school dinners I have faced but, instead, I’m going to go for a motorway services. What a surprise.

In 1982 I went to the FA Trophy final with the Hyde United players and we stopped off somewhere south of Watford. The conversation with the ever-so-friendly girl behind the till went something like this.

“Beefburger and chips please.” “They’re not beefburgers, they’re steakburgers.”

“Sorry, but they look like beefburgers.” “Well, they’re not, they’re steakburgers.” “Okay then, steakburger and chips please.”

“Peas or beans?” “Neither thanks. Just the beef, sorry steakburger and chips.” “You have to have peas or beans. It’s a set meal.” “But I don’t want them.

I’ll happily pay for them but don’t put them on my plate.” “Peas or beans? It’s a set meal.” “But I won’t eat them”. “Peas or beans or shall I serve the next customer?”

I might have countered that the peas looked like bullets and the beans looked the most watery concoction I had ever seen.

But I meekly accepted the peas, shoved them to the side of my plate, and never touched them. And if there was any steak in that burger I’ll show my posterior on Hyde Town Hall steps.

What is it about motorway services that makes me dread going in them? Is it the fact that you can only buy things in huge sizes?

You want a packet of crisps but the best you can get is something the equivalent of three bags. Does anybody actually pay for a full meal in there?