The great American journalist Joseph Mitchell turned writing about the death of favourite restaurants into an artform. If the soul of his city, New York, existed anywhere, he argued, it was in the life of its waterfront and backstreet eating houses. In this spirit, in the 1940s and 1950s Mitchell created a new form of obituary: the long, heartfelt memorial to the passing of those places in which we gather to make memories or forget sorrows – most of them demolished in the name of development.
Mitchell would have had plenty to say about the imminent erasure of several much-loved London institutions. Michel Roux Jr’s decision to close Le Gavroche brings to an end a family-inspired taste for authentic (and expensive) French cooking that began 56 years ago; the fabulous, eccentric India Club along the Strand, has had an even longer run – it has been seven decades since the first lamb bhuna was dished up on its determinedly democratic refectory tables (its freeholder wants to make it another luxury hotel). Great restaurants have personal memories built in. And in this sense, the loss I will feel most keenly will be that of Banner’s, the ultimate neighbourhood cafe in Crouch End, north of the city – which famously once entertained Bob Dylan – and which for 30 years has been the place where my family has celebrated birthdays and anniversaries.
