Yesterdays of their lives - Claudio (iii)

Beef Brasserie flickered, then quickly caught fire in the imagination of the locals, who felt that for King's Cross, what was in effect a gourmet greasy spoon was perfect. And for Claudio the great thing was that the clientele were, to a man, muckier in both theory and practice than he was. Which is saying something.

Before too long, diners from more salubrious quarters of town were attracted to the Beef Brasserie by patronising articles by those knuckle-scraping writers in such vibrant London magazines as Take Time and City Unlimited, along the lines of this, appended to a café review one February:
'Roll up your trousers and wear your highest heels when you dare to cross the threshold of Argentine meat chef Claudio Diego Cardinale's quaint little café-restaurant in King's Cross and you will be richly rewarded: rich in the sense that the Beef Brasserie's fare is rather more than rich, although artery-clogging is perhaps too steep a description. However, our correspondent removed the clothes-peg from her nose long enough to taste a manful Macaroni Mince as a starter, Beef Buenos Aires as main, served with fried egg as the vegetable, and pecked briefly at the Dessert of the Day, Beef Tallow Flan, all for just a little more than the cost of a couple of copies of Vogue. Argentine wine is wonderful these days, and we hope that Mr Cardinale one day has the good sense to import some into his cellars - it goes so much better than brown ale with strong, macho beefy dishes, which is what you get here in spades - and spadefuls.'

Cuisine paysanne in King's Cross? That's what the good burghers of well-heeled Hampstead and trendy Shoreditch latched onto, and as they began to beat a path to the slightly warped door of the Beef Brasserie and fill it with braying conversations about politics, and issues, and fashion, Claudio began to put up his prices. Which meant the locals could no longer afford to eat there, and were forced to get their regular fix of serious meat from the many kebab shops in the area (and in general they found, after having become accustomed to Claudio's way with tallow, that kebabs seemed like Lean Cuisine).

Claudio found that fame, no matter how minor, cut into his life with two edges. It was good for business, and it meant that his conception of food was popular; but it filled his little restaurant with loathesome people. And, if there is such as thing as a triple-edged sword, then there was a third cut - his success bred jealousy…