THE party conferences are more or less over, and so
is the annual three-week assault on our stomachs. There are some reporters who have their meals planned weeks beforehand — the right senior politicians invited to join them at pricy or pretentious restaurants.
Most hacks and delegates haven't planned anything, so the evening round of parties is followed by a bizarre form of pyramid eating. Three people suggest going for dinner, but each of them has half-promised to wait for two others, who turn up explaining that they've agreed to meet Jim or Rachel, so that around 10.45 p.m. someone with a mobile is trying to book a table somewhere nice for 17.
In Blackpool, this has always been diffi- cult. The Lobster Pot (Right, dear, oysters, two lobster Newburgs and a bottle of Chablis. Pot of tea and bread-and-butter with it?') has closed. So has the Town & Country, now flambed like its steak Diane. My late colleague, Sir Francis Boyd, never troubled with such exotica — he preferred a `chippo' behind the Imperial Hotel. Now that is near one of the better Chinese restaurants in Blackpool, the Long Island, which also serves Thai food. Arrive early or book.
When the Tories are in town, it's been impossible in the past to find a decent table, especially at the River House, where Ted Heath is host to a biannual dinner. For some of us, listening to scornful remarks about Margaret Thatcher is a small price to pay for an excellent meal. But you won't get in, because half the Cabinet is being entertained there already.
Harry Ramsden's on the seafront is as good as fish and chips gets. The fish is fresh, juicy and tastily battered. The chips are almost perfect, the prices low. For this rea- son it is almost impossible to get in after noon. Those who can't be bothered to spend half an hour in line head for Yates's Wine Lodge, once famous for its sleazy atmo- sphere and champagne on draught. Now it has been refurbished to look like the saloon in a spaghetti western, the sawdust is gone from the floor, and the champagne comes in bottles. But the 'celebrated Bosley Beef Sandwich' is still served. These days it makes me yearn for the succulent goodness of a Big Mac. In any case, few people want a big lunch, since seaside hotels are among the last redoubts of the 'full cooked breakfast', a dish which it remains hard to spoil, provided you avoid the sausage.
The dining-room in the main hotel, the Imperial, is a typical overblown hotel restaurant. You know all you need to know about the Crystal Room in the nearby Pem- broke from its title. The food is all right, though I remember once waiting 90 min- utes for the first course to arrive, which did not tempt me back.
So it's good that Blackpool has a newish restaurant which combines northern friend- liness with decent imaginative cooking. Mezzo has a sensibly short menu (and is the only restaurant I know where 'caviar £25' is chalked up on the list of specials), a good house white, and does an excellent halibut, which is my test of a good seaside restaurant. During the Labour conference last week, word passed round and it soon became impossible to find a table. You'll be luckier outside the conference season. I missed going to the Seafood Restaurant, where Labour's Stephen Byers did or did not suggest that Tony Blair wants to break all links with the unions. But reports from colleagues do not encourage me to try the place, especially since Mr Byers is not now likely to be sounding off at the next table.
Brighton is much easier. Most hacks and delegates head straight up Preston Street, which runs north from the front. Virtually every building here is an ethnic restaurant: Spanish, Indian, Greek, Italian, with the big Chinese at the bottom being the most pop- ular, probably because it's the first people come to after leaving the evening's parties.
Wheeler's and English's, near each other in the Lanes, are fine if expensive, and both passed my halibut test this year with gold stars. English's, with its higgledy-piggledy maze of little rooms, is especially good for plot-spotting.
In my view, the best two value restau- rants in Brighton are to be found on the front, almost adjacent. They are proof that in this age of the Internet and virtual work- places, physical proximity remains crucially important for creating real competition and so raising standards. The same principle applies, I am told, to luxury cars in south- ern Germany, auction houses in London, and Silicon Valley in California.
So the Melrose and the Regency rival each other for freshness of fish, crispiness of batter, proper British chips (not Eurofrites), subtly flavoured mushy peas, and such all- round excellence that, unless you go for the lobster or the magnificent whole Dover Sole, it would be hard to spend more than a tenner a head. On successive days a year ago, I was treated by colleagues to lunch at the Grand, which cost them £32 a head, and then bought my own meal at the Regency, which cost about £9. The Regency was bet- ter. No need to book.
Long Island; tel: 01253 20026. River House; tel: 01253 883497. Mezzo; tel: 01253 22393. Wheeler's; tel:• 01273 325135. English's; tel: 01273 327980. Melrose; tel• 01273 326520. Regency; tel: 01273 325014.
Simon Hoggart
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