The problem with the Rivington Grill (http://www.rivingtongrill.co.uk/) (or RG as I call it) is the location. It’s mired in the stinking East End besieged by fleets of hipster douches with their Amish beards and artisan skateboards but far too edgy to actually go inside. No they’d prefer to suck on organic quinoa from the back of a converted ricksaw served by an ex-buddhist kite maker called Varifocal with bluetooth piercings. Yawn. It should relocate to somewhere better like Westfield or on Leicester Square between All-Bar-One and an Aberdeen Steak House – that’s prime real estate. I honestly don’t know how these places stay in business with such want of mercantile acumen.
I regaled my fellow diners and those at other tables with this penetrating analysis until I realised I was talking about 4,000 Shoreditch establishments that I love and my logic ate itself and I fell silent. Curse you Shoreditch. Full disclosure: Mancake has a professional association with RiGri (as I call it) so he was especially blown away by my musings. I could tell by the way he stared desolately into his chicken and prayed that he choke on the wishbone. He had HALF a roast chicken which is not something one is normally favoured with when ordering a roast, so striking wishbone was not an impossibility. Mama and I had the beef, excellent but hello? clearly not grilled, and Endeavour and Dangles had spectacular looking burgers. I want to be sure that you understand that mummy and I had different plates of the same order. It’s not like she was cutting up my meat to make it easier for me to eat. That stopped months ago.
It’s not just the food, the excellent wine list and the impeccable service that set RivGrill (as I call it) apart, it’s the atmos. We wiled away hours at lunch and we might have been at home or in a 5* hotel or on one of the those posh cruise liners that doesn’t have norovirus. And therein lies the problem. When dining out is this good, who wants to go home? That’s why all correspondence should now be directed thusly:
Charlie Del Monte
Walk-in Freezer but-psst-don’t-let-on-to-the-proprietors
28-30 Rivington St
I asked Mancake a few times if he ever called it Grillington Riv by mistake but he didn’t hear me.