Chef and writer Rowley Leigh

The chef and writer on the ills of the restaurant business – and the incredible history of lentil soup

RESTAURANTS ARE HAVING a rough time. Every week we see news of another group in trouble. Rising rents, business rates, and food and staff costs all contribute to the problem but the plain fact is there are simply too many restaurants and the market is saturated. With many of these groups having expanded too quickly to be sustainable, the bubble was bound to burst. But it has never been that easy to make money out of restaurants. It used to be said that 50 per cent of restaurants would close within the first 18 months. That was fuelled by the notion that many were started up by amateurs, tired of their white-collar jobs and convinced by the success of their dinner parties.

The reality now is very different, with much investment from privateequity groups, driven by people with more acquaintance with spreadsheets than with hospitality. I never thought I would feel sorry for these greedy interlopers, but with jobs at stake and the prospect of boarded-up shopfronts, it is hardly cause for rejoicing.

I DROVE MY SON to the dentist last week. I bought a mountain of mutton chops for a hotpot from the Syrian butcher in Shepherd’s Bush while he had a session with Ms Patel and her drill.

By two o’clock we were both free and hungry. I remembered him remarking that Uxbridge Road was the best restaurant street in the capital, so we decided to put that questionable remark to the test. We settled on Red Sea, an establishment of many years’ standing that offers Yemeni, Ethiopian and Eritrean cuisine, serving the large contingent of east Africans in the neighbourhood. To my shame, and despite my many years in the area, I had never been.

I wouldn’t say the waters parted on our entrance. The place was quite busy and nobody seemed to notice our arrival save the owner, a genial and calm character who was patient in the face of our confusion at the long and unfamiliar menu. The prices were a bit of a shock, with soups priced at £1.50, salads at £3 and main courses under £10. I ordered shfout , a curious salad that turns out to be a huge pile of very thin flatbreads rolled with grated cucumber, garlic, onion and yogurt. I managed about a quarter of it. My son panicked and ordered lentil soup, and was taken aback by this fragrant, wellspiced and smooth purée of yellow lentils. We were then given two huge plates of lamb, rice and salad.

So busy was the place on this drab Friday afternoon that the owner had enlisted the help of his daughter, who smiled beatifically and showed concern about my small appetite, offering to provide a doggy bag for the excess. It was clear that the other patrons, by now a mixture of British and east African, had no such problems with the quantity. It is at least heartening if a small family business of honest intent can survive in the harsh economic climate.

I WAS GLAD TO SEE my son enjoying his lentil soup. It was another sign of his slow migration towards a healthier diet. Lentil soup has been around for a long time and has made its own migration – to India, Africa and Western Europe. When Escoffier put it on the menu he gussied it up with croutons and lardons and called it potage Esau. The ‘mess of pottage’ with which Jacob tempted his older brother Esau, causing him to give up his birthright, was indeed lentils, and their cultivation can be traced back to the Fertile Crescent at least 10,000 years ago. The moment Esau was bested by his farming sibling marks the beginning of the end for the hunter-gatherer. Another momentous transition.

I was glad to see my son enjoying his lentil soup – another sign of his slow migration towards a healthier diet