For as long as I can remember, I always wanted to be an R. I'll never forget the day when my dad pulled me aside, I was aged eight and my dad said ''Son, it's time to choose your restaurant. Once you choose, you can never go back. It's a decision for life. Once you have chosen, you can never change. '' My choice was never in doubt. Having grown up on the White City Estate in a limited income family, I knew no better. I chose to be a supporter of Rangerio's restaurant. It was on the Uxbridge Road, near the junction with Loftus Road. It had a distinctive blue and white canopy that stretched right out across the pavement. It was quite small and tight with limited legroom, but it felt right. Everyone more or less new each other and the atmosphere was brilliant, even when fifty percent full. We more or less ate in their every other week. The food was good without trying to be too pretentious. Chef Jago, although calm and steady was doing a good job. Then when I was ten, my dad said that Chef Jago had gone and they had bought in a new Chef from somewhere up west called Chelsea. Chef Sexton had an immediate affect. We had the best Bowles in any restaurant in the country, along with the Lamb Shanks everyone started to take notice of us. Our little exclusive restaurant was the talk of the country, our free flowing culinary skills was starting to grab the nation. We nearly won the best restaurant of the year, but we lost out on the final service to Anfield's, based in Liverpool. They had won it many times before and at the time was the best restaurant in Europe. Rangerio's was then chosen to compete with the other great restaurants in Europe. Although we made great progress initially, we eventually lost out in the running to a restaurant from Bratislava. Chef Sexton left to work at Traffords, a restaurant in Manchester that was a sleeping giant. I became disillusioned as my restaurant got worse and worse under the Scottish Chef Docherty. My dad reminded me that we had to stay loyal to our choice. . . Then suddenly an old waiter of ours had returned as head Chef. Chef Venables quickly turned our fortunes around, and in 1982 took our small eaterie to the final of the best cook off in the country. After many ups and downs we are now in the present day. Our little restaurant was taken over eighteen months ago. At first I was a little worried as I thought we might be named FerNandos after our new owner. He is talking about building a much bigger establishment. But in truth I quite prefer the old one. But it seems it's not possible to remain at our old premises. The progression and popularity of TV cookery shows have meant that we have to move forward with the times. I've also noticed many new faces coming to our restaurant,posh types and celebrities. The prices are going up all the time. But I'm going to carry on eating here regardless of what they charge. I'm still eating here regardless whether the new waiters talk to me or not. In fact the food has got worse, and I was physically sick when I got home after a guest appearance from the chefs from Milton Keynes. They battered us in a fish and chip cook off. Never mind. It's my restaurant, and like dad said... you can never change, regardless what crap they serve up.
I thought you got kebabed by the Greek restaurant from Athens, they won the Ouzo shoot-out. You were obviously griddled.....
my uncle took me to the same restaurant when i was eleven. i go every time i am england. one of the only things i miss over here
"...We had the best Bowles in any restaurant in the country, along with the Lamb Shanks..." The restaurant offered covered car Parkes for inClement weather, with easy access to the grand old entrance hall with its sweeping Bannister. The head Cook was exceptionally Keen and skillful; I used to marvel at Howe adept he was at removing the Gillard from the Micklewhite, freshly caught that morning. A smidgin of Hazell and it was oven-Ready. He let his wife prepare the meals for a time; she Roeder her luck for a few days, but a lot of the patrons complained of the Doudous. "Don't try her seafood surprise", he told me,"it Ainsworth the time on the khazi with the screaming ****tus, the ring-Byrne and the sore Bott. Drinkwater instead." I did try it once, however, but thankfully the stomach cramps didn't last Furlong and I was only laid Lowe Fereday or two with Arthur Longbottom. I was back at work in the Morrow.
I see what you have done there replacing or highlighting some of your words in association with Queens Park Rangers players
Nice one 9's. this could run a bit! Remember some of the gimmicks. There was McDonald's farm when they introduced Peacocks. I often had to ask myself surely they're taking the Pizanti?
Just a shame they have gone back to a basic menu with no specials. Can't be helped when the restaurant has been "under new management" for so long.
