They say never meet your heroes, but what’s
it like to be introduced to someone you’ve revered
for years? Lindsey Bareham found out in the most
memorable of ways when, in a restaurant one
night, she realised she was only a few feet away
from the legendary food writer“The day I met
Elizabeth David”
MY FOOD HERO
I
was a restaurant critic and
mother of two young boys
when I first met Elizabeth
David in the early 1980s. It was
Boxing Day evening and, because
my mum was staying with us for
Christmas, my husband and I were
able to sneak out for a meal at
Phoenicia, a favourite Lebanese
restaurant in Kensington. I’d got to
know the owner, Hani Khalife, and
his family so when we arrived I was
greeted with the news that there
was another food writer in the
restaurant that evening. “Elizabeth
Davis,” he said. “Do you mean
Elizabeth David?” “Oh yes, that’s
right,” he replied. “She’s over there
with two other women. Would you
like me to introduce you?”
I couldn’t believe my ears or my
luck but felt far too shy to meet my
culinary hero, Britain’s first lady of
food. There weren’t many people in
the restaurant that night and as weheaded into the second bottle of
Chateau Musar, I summoned up the
Dutch courage to meet Mrs David.
The first thing I noticed were her
deep, dark eyes, like glistening
black olives set against exquisite,
luminous pale skin, and pure white
hair drawn off her face in a loose
bun. Her hands were manicured,
the long elegant fingers with
pearlisedvarnish.I learnedlaterthat Boxing Day was her birthday
and that her sister lived next door
to the restaurant, so I suspect the
pair were celebrating. (Hani later
told me she was a regular and
“never left a drop in the bottle”.)
Elizabeth was gracious and
immediately said she liked my workin Time Out magazine (I still gasp
at that) and was grateful for the
review I’d written of An Omelette
and a Glass of Wine (published in
1984). My copy of that book is
littered with yellow stickers and
underlinings. I love the essay
headings, particularly I’ll Be With
You in the Squeezing of a Lemon,
Big Bad Bramleys, Whisky in the
Kitchen and Ladies’ Halves. It’s my
go-to book when I need cheering
up or get fed up with food writing.
I heard myself inviting Mrs David
to come out reviewing with me and
the reply was touchingly keen. She
wrote down her address (though
not her phone number) and passed
me the piece of paper. I floated back
to my table. Once the festivities
were over, I wrote to Mrs David.
She rang the very next day to fix
a date for lunch. Struggling to know
where to suggest, I offered a number
of hot new places and she chosePHOTOGRAPHS MAJA SMEND FOOD ST YLING SOPHIE AUSTEN-SMITH ST YLING SARAH BIRKS
I gasped when
she told me she liked
my work50 deliciousmagazine.co.uk