Sometimes the most meaningless ventures become the biggest talking points.
Since it opened a few weeks ago, statue to superficiality Nusr-Et Steakhouse, or “the Salt Bae restaurant” as you may better know it, has demonstrated just that – becoming a household name by boasting ingredients, aside from beef, that propelled it into public consciousness.
Wildly overpriced (tick), celebrity clientele (tick), and menu items – including his signature £850 steak and a proletariat £100 burger – coated in gold (tick), the Salt Bae restaurant has managed to push every button going and we’ve well and truly taken the (gold wrapped) bait. It’s notoriety is more a lesson in successful PR than how to baste a tomahawk.
Surely Salt Bae – or Nusret Gökçe to give him his actual name – is having the last laugh. From a deprived background, the Turkish chef has managed to rake in the big ones by doing the impossible – bringing permanence to what should have been a fleeting internet moment, and turning meme status into money.
So can we learn anything from Salt Bae’s gold-tinged approach? Could embracing his gaudiness provide an antidote to a so far, so drab Autumn? Maybe all that glitters is gold. To find out the answers to these questions, I decided to buy some edible gold, whip up some metallic meals and enjoy my very own Gilded Age – for, I should point out, a fraction of the price.
So how did I get on?
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At his banker-baiting restaurant, Salt Bae sells a Golden Cappuccino for £50, which is literally a cappuccino with a sheet of gold dumped on top of it. At least it might keep it warm?
If I was going to fully embrace my inner Salt Bae I was going to need caffeine, so this seemed like as good place to start as any. To a coffee shop I go, ready to bring a touch of sophistication (?) to my morning fix.
‘Ccino (well, flat white) acquired, I lift the lid to an exhalation of steam and balance a square of Amazon’s finest 24-karat gold sheet over the paper cup. It straddles it precariously, not quite reaching every side before drooping against the inside and melting.
Then, I remove it and put it in the bin so I can drink the drink.
I’m left feeling more Bae than ever.
They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day but far be it for me to navigate the logistics of wrapping cornflakes and milk in gold. So I decide to park my gusto for gilt until lunch, when I have a baguette.
There’s nothing like wrapping a staple food item in gold to create a sense of occasion and as I take a bite I feel decidedly more regal than I usually do around the midday slump.
Texture wise, the gold adds nothing because it is too thin to notice. And in terms of taste, there is a slight metallic tang but it is hard to tell if that is all in my head.
Aside from that – what do I have to report apart from a few odd looks from people around me in the cafe I am in? The answer! Is! Nothing!
Dinner
Look, what you need to know about covering things in gold is that it isn’t easy. The stuff is thinner than petals and disintegrates when touched. I feel like I need tweezers and also to qualify as a surgeon to do the meal prep any justice and perhaps these technical skills are what Salt Bae’s customers are paying for.
What I am trying to tell you is, reader, I messed up and was unable to cover my dinner (lasagne if you want to know) in gold. Sorry. 10 tiny sheets already cost £7. Do you want me to waste more money? Do you?
To show willing, I unwrap a KitKat from its silver-foiled sleeve and... rewrap it in gold.
Yum!
Conclusions
I come to the end of my day of bling-fuelled feasting and what a day it’s been. It’s been shiny. It’s been aesthetic. It’s been a lesson in how to maintain a steady hand and a lesson that gold is really edible. It’s been punctuated with reminders that, no, the metallic taste in my mouth isn’t a sign of gum disease.
It’s also been utterly pointless.
And that’s the Salt Bae restaurant’s appeal in a nutshell – a meaningless venture, sure, but ultimately a bit of fun.
