Last Sunday, the queue for Sandwich Sandwich, London’s latest “hype” restaurant, was about 70 people long and promised a waiting time of around 20 to 25 minutes. That translates into standing around for the best part of half an hour, in 27 degree heat, for a £10 sandwich, albeit one that looks exquisite on Instagram. Bear in mind the sandwich shop is in the City, a part of London that would normally be the preserve of busy weekdays rather than care-free weekends. Did all these people choose carbs before Marbs?
And was it worth it, really? I visited Sandwich Sandwich and had a classic creation called the “Spanish chicken”, where sous vide chicken breast, chorizo, spicy cream cheese and salad were packed into two slabs of Rinkoff bakery bread. I perhaps waited up to 10 minutes for mine. And it was excellent.
But I wouldn’t want to wait much longer: I have Guinness to drink. There’s similar escalation at the likes of CDMX Tacos and Supernova burger in Soho. There, in the winding lanes, people wait patiently for food that has enjoyed considerable oomph on social media, in part thanks to clever in-house marketing campaigns that send dishes into the internet’s fun-wheel like emojis on MSN Messenger circa 2005. It is all, of course, incremental, and the more a smash burger is posted, the more people want it. We are sheep. It is community; identity, even. Call it an easy version of religion in the modern age.
But I again ask: is queuing for food for so long worth the hassle and the drama? And in the blazing heat, the sweat?
I would cap my queuing at 20 minutes now. No longer. I have Guinness to drink
Before I reach a conclusion, we must journey back a decade or so to when “hype” restaurants first became a phenomenon. Names such as Dishoom, BAO, and Padella invited would-be guests to queue, doing away with bookings in an early move toward fostering buzz. Social media was less an absolute reliance, but it was already becoming a powerful, driving force, and people were all too eager to get a taste of what everyone was talking about.
Of course, all this was pioneered by truly visionary restaurateurs such as the late Russell Norman, whose restaurant group, Polpo, felt fun, worthwhile and lively. Few bemoaned waiting to get in there.
Now, we are at queuing 2.0 — not to be confused with the old Cunard Line flagship cruiseliner — a sort of post-queuing, where it isn’t new, but it is having a second honeymoon. And there seems to be a greater sense of eagerness, suddenness to it; it is less of a semi-reluctant “ah well, we just have to wait,” more “look, this Instagrammer has gone now — we’re going here to queue, quick, charge your phone and iron your Stussy T-shirt”.
It is not exclusively like this. Allow me to put my cynical tone away for a moment. Because there are some people who just don’t mind queuing.
“I remember, years ago, queuing for Bubbledogs”, the part-PR, part-restaurant worker, part-Instagram pro Dom Rowntree tells me. “We waited for about an hour and 15 minutes. We went round the corner and got some tinnies. And then it started to rain. It was all a bit mad. But then we got in, had some amazing hotdogs and champagne, and it felt special”. Fair enough. It stands to reason then that queues are worth it, but only if the food stands the test of taste. There isn’t a weekend in London where crowds don’t descend on bakeries such as Toad in Camberwell or Chatsworth Bakehouse in Crystal Palace. It would be short-sighted to question that many people clearly feel (and I can attest to this) the food is good enough to wait for. And from a business perspective, well, you have to hand it to them.
Sian Evans, who co-founded Chatsworth Bakehouse with her partner in lockdown, told me not so long ago: “The queues can be pretty crazy. Obviously, we try to serve people as quickly as possible, and we welcome them. There’s definitely a community spirit to it”.
I know from experience that the food at Chatsworth Bakehouse is worth waiting for. But still, I would cap myself at 20 minutes. No longer. That’s just me.
“It would have to be super hype,” a pal tells me when pondering the issue. “But generally, no. At the very least I’d always aim for a quieter time of day”. Good sense.
Queuing, then. Preposterous, juvenile and laughable? No, of course it isn’t. Don’t be so judgmental.
If anything, I applaud the commitment — from the customer and the chef. But, to be completely clear, I won’t be joining any queues. You’ll find me at the beach.
