Elitepubs – Not So Elite After All
If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if a train station waiting hall tried to cosplay as a restaurant, Elitepubs has the answer. The décor is a charming blend of plastic flowers and bargain-basement chairs that appear specifically engineered to make sure you don’t stay long. When the place is full, the noise level reaches “airport terminal during delays” — because it is essentially one giant echoing hall with zero dividers.
The only redeeming part of the evening was our waitress, who was friendly but clearly still waiting for someone to teach her… well, anything. It took about ten minutes just to take the order of the five of us.
The food — where do I begin? “Mediocre” would be a compliment. My game terrine was dry, hard, and so flavourless that even a heroic amount of salt couldn’t save it. Yes, I’m aware it’s a franchise and yes, I know the food is precooked and microwaved, but I still held out hope for something resembling taste. That hope died quickly.
My wife’s wild mushroom soup was also spectacularly tasteless. She never adds salt to anything — ever — but this time she emptied half the shaker into it. When she finds something bland, you know you’re in trouble.
The nibbles were another adventure in what-on-earth-is-this. The houmous was coarse, drowning in oil, and — plot twist — also completely flavourless. The pigs in blankets? Tiny, cheap, and inexplicably served with a blob of mayonnaise. Fatty sausages wrapped in fatty bacon… with mayonnaise? Who thought that was a good idea? A salsa, chutney, relish — anything but mayo would have made sense. But sense, it seems, had the evening off.
My son’s pizza, baked in a wood-fired oven, was… fine. Nothing special. Perhaps send the pizza chef on a quick trip to Italy?
The beef short ribs we ordered were passable — after a snowstorm of salt. To be fair, short ribs are quite hard to ruin. The sauce was OK but had clearly never met a drop of red wine or a hint of proper beef stock. The mashed potatoes were once again flavourless, and the brussels sprouts — which can easily be delicious with a hot pan, butter, and a little bacon — arrived undercooked, unsalted, and thoroughly depressing.
But the absolute low point? My daughter’s children’s plate. Three microscopic sausages and about ten tiny chips. The small plate wasn’t even a quarter full. Not even a two-year-old would be satisfied with that.
And of course, the bill arrives with an automatic service charge. Lovely. Over £200 for five people… for this?
I truly don’t understand the glowing reviews. I moved from Germany to the UK 15 years ago and was warned that the food quality can be variable — but in a place calling itself “Elite,” I expected at least something above microwave-level cooking.
Sadly, not even close.