The venue itself is great. Big wooden floored living room, good lighting. "Interesting" cocktail on arrival: fizzy wine and blue curacao in which was floating something best described as synthetic frogspawn. This didn't taste good but was fun nevertheless. Decent starter (big mushroom) but with the long-awaited main course it started to go downhill...
Ms MarmiteLover on a tour of the tables set up in her living room: "What do you think of the food?"
Me: "Er -"
Ms M-L "Yes its great isn't it! I didn't think the pasta in a bag would work so well but its excellent even if I say so myself"
...and with that she leapt to the next table to stomp on another guest before they could reply. I heard her tell 4 more tables how great her food was and tuned her out at that point.
If I'd been able to get a word in edgeways my reply would have gone something like this:
1) No, the food wasn't great. The pasta in a bag was a bit boring and the bag didn't add much other than an hour wait between starter and main course.
2) I'd rather walk into a working mens club and order a pint of malibu and milk than eat a second spoonful of the white chocolate and malibu trifle. It didn't even pass the "sound of good suction" test as we scooped it out.
3) There are better ways to charge 5 quid corkage per bottle than making guests feel like they're being waited on by Dick Turpin.
Maybe we were unlucky with the food - the menu changes every week - but if you want guerilla dining that's memorable for the right reasons better to check out Horton's place.
Ms Marmite's location is obviously secret, which isn't a bad thing
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