The dictionary definition of a show off: “a person who acts pretentiously or who publicly parades themselves, their possessions or their accomplishments”.
While I don’t own any possessions worth publicly parading (plus I’m too self-conscious to ever act pretentiously with any kind of conviction) when I accomplish anything that warrants a rooftop shout I’m not afraid to be the one shouting. Accomplishment deserves celebration; a raucous pub visit or bottle of expensive spirit for the successes of those closest to me.
I have the same attitude toward restaurant choices as I have towards showing off about accomplishments. I scour restaurant guides to read about places that have received rave reviews; I flick to the back of the newspaper first to read about which restaurant Jay Rayner deems worthy this week. I think restaurants should be shouted about and rejoiced, from the small street food stall with its modest “world famous chicken pie” menu statement to the pomp and splendour of a Michelin star restaurant.
It seemed almost criminal that the fanciest restaurant in town (that I’ve been to) is housed behind a faceless black door. The Crazy Bear Members’ Club in Covent Garden is a veritable Aladdin’s Cave. There are no signs to point potential suitors the right way or even a number above the front door. In fact, we only knew where to go because of the suited man who hovered outside on the pavement, shouting into his phone about meeting times before insistently ringing the doorbell. We followed his lead, albeit sheepishly, hoping against hope that we weren’t following him into someone’s living room.
Once we entered the restaurant, that was when and where the fun began. Aladdin’s Cave is an accurate description; your senses are assaulted immediately with smells of Asian cuisine cooking downstairs, while people slouch on the comfy cushion seating chatting by low-level candlelight. Seated downstairs in a booth decorated with crystals (if you looked up “show off” in the dictionary, this booth would be slap bang next to it) I couldn’t have felt further away from the manic streets of Covent Garden above. Just to drink a cocktail in the bar area is worth the membership fee alone. And to think I had no knowledge of this place until now!
Regardless of the glamourous surroundings, I was primarily there for the food. The food is what keeps me coming back to a restaurant. It is the linchpin in my decision whether to love or hate an establishment. Perusing the menu, I suddenly felt a bit concerned. The menu was huge. Huge is an understatement. The menu stretched over three giant pages (pages I had trouble holding such was the weight) with writing no larger than on a broadsheet newspaper describing dishes from China, Japan and Thailand. It overwhelmed me. Everything sounded great, but where to start? Thankfully, our waiter took the decision out of our hands with a little nod from me and chose the starters while we squirmed our way through the mains to come to a decision that suited both parties.
What followed was beautiful food. Dish after beautiful dish came out of the kitchen, steaming hot and irresistible. So great was the food that I had to admit defeat and share a pudding at the end (oh, the shame). It was what I’d describe as real celebration food. The kind of food you would like to be enjoying with mates around a table, fingers mucky and faces dirty. The dim sum in particular was delightful. Little pockets of light, airy dumplings filled with fresh seafood and decorated with soy sauce that dripped onto my chin when I took a bite. The food was a celebration of achievement; of the chefs, of the managers and of the people who came to visit. I felt like standing on top of the table and shouting: “the Crazy Bear is crazy good!”
For people like me who enjoy showing off (a little), restaurants can sometimes provide us with the space in which to do just that. There is something great about ordering bottle after bottle of wine and sharing three times too many dishes with a group of friends to celebrate an occasion; be it a birthday, a job offer, or the end of a rubbish relationship. Life has many reasons to celebrate, and restaurants like the Crazy Bears Members’ Club are just the places to do so.
Review written for Fluid London.
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