Hotel Elizabeth Grimsby
Sunday lunch today was at the Hotel Elizabeth in Grimsby, Lincolnshire, formally known as The Humber Royal.
An old watering hole when the bar used to open some years ago.
It used to have a good reputation for food when they fortunate enough to have Trevor Barker as the head chef, he later moved to The Brackenborough Arms and is a top man.
Unbeknownst to the chef and staff one of my dining companions was one of, if not, Lincolnshire’s best chefs!
For the purpose of this article he will remain anonymous and will be referred to in future posts as
Our Man in the Kitchen.
It was a pleasant luncheon, convivial company, I avoided paying so that helped.
Not what it was or indeed what it could have been, though the young, inexperienced and unsupervised staff no doubt did their best.
This is all pretty generous on my part but then ‘that’s the kind of guy I am’ !
Our man in the kitchen is somewhat less tolerant though: Please check comment 1 for more in-depth analysis and amusement
Our Man in the Kitchen said,
March 12, 2006 @ 12:08 pm
Have any fellow surfers shared the experience of dining out at the Elizabeth Hotel in Grimsby, North East Lincolnshire?
Back in the eighties it served the best food in the area by Trevor Barker, an award-winning chef of considerable talent. Following his departure (hastened by the takeover of the dreadful Posthouse group) the hotel turned same standard microwave menu into an art form-out with the chef de partie and in with the chef de ping.
Following more takeovers this homage to hotels from 1967 has finally hit rock bottom. The once thriving public bar has closed and the slot machine and trivia quiz moved to the residents lounge-classy. We went to the bar, the shutters were still down but we did have Charles Manson sat in the corner clearing his nose and throat every two minutes for our entertainment. The receptionist cum bar person couldn’t find any sherry and we couldn’t find a restaurant manager. After twenty minutes I went in search of menus to be greeted by a Westlife wannabee who’s tie wouldn’t stay up. The menu paid homage to all of those dishes you thought had gone with your childhood-egg mayonnaise (yes, really) pate and melon with exotic fruits.
Barely suppressing my excitement I perused the main course selection; haddock and chips, roast beef or perhaps a broccoli bake with hash browns and garlic bread?!?-Was this a typing error? But what about dessert? -Ice cream with a wafer fan?, fresh fruit salad with pouring cream or fresh from the freezer apple pie? Oh, the agony of choice.
The waiter gave a master class in how not to deliver a bread roll from a basket to a plate and graciously spilt my packet mix tomato soup. The rib of beef with Yorkshire pudding and horseradish (still waiting for the latter) with boiled cabbage and uncooked roast potatoes allowed me to share the dining experiences of my father when he fought for the British during the Suez Canal crisis.
The clientele is no longer what it was, sixteen members of the Grimsby & Middlesbrough Communist Party who are yet to learn the art of eating with cutlery seemed to be a fitting finale.