Taste of the past that is gone for ever

THE Feltz family first converged upon the Water Margin Chinese restaurant in London’s Golders Green circa 1976. It was a 20-minute drive from home but resoundingly worth the trip. We slurped our way through lakes of their wonton soup, and munched entire mountain ranges of their sweet and sour chicken, vegetarian noodles Amoy style and crisp roast duck Cantonese style.

We celebrated birthdays there, introduced new babies to special fried rice there and even found solace after bereavement in their Chinese chili beef.

For about seven years my sister and I noticed a hat suspended on one of their hooks which closely resembled one of our father’s favourite titfers. Dining there with him we drew it to his attention. “Good Lord, I wondered where that hat had gone,” he said, strolling casually over and sticking it back on his head.

You know how when your grandma or mother passes away and you gradually realise you’ll never taste their apple strudel or Yorkshire pudding again? After 40 years of superlative gourmandising I feel a very similar sense of loss and even existential despair. Without warning or explanation our beloved Water Margin has closed its doors. We will never taste its like again.