There, half way down, sits a new burger bar with a name that hits you over the head – not once, but twice: Gourmet & Craft. Ouch.
Don’t get us wrong: we like a modern-sounding moniker that links two themes. There are the ones that make practical sense, in a pleasingly elliptical way, like Carrots & Daikon (hip Vietnamese banh mi) and Beef & Brew (craft beer and onglets); while others are a bit wacky, like Bear + Wolf, the Tufnell Park coffee shop with no discernible meaning. And even Italian cafes are in on it (well, sort of): one of London’s best kept foodie secrets is Anima E Cuore, which means, quite sweetly, heart and soul. Ahhhhh.
There are enough examples across the capital to keep us going all day, from Soho’s Jackson & Rye to Haggerston’s mighty Berber & Q and the now-ubiquitous chain, Burger & Lobster.
You could argue that its history in fact spans centuries, harking back to the cosy Englishness of ye olde names like the Bull & Gate, the Bull & Last or Rose & Crown.
Business monikers combining the owners’ last names aside (like Marks & Spencer), the pairing of words was rare before the mid-17th century, but by 1708 had become common enough for complaints to be registered about quirky new pub names like Bull and Mouth, or Shovel and Boot. How very ahead of their time.
By the late 20th century, supposedly witty paired names like Slug and Lettuce and Frog & Firkin (and the once upmarket Pitcher & Piano) reinvented the concept of the boozer as a ladeez-friendly wine bar. All of which caused a subsequent reaction with a slew of crisp one-word monikers that proliferated in the late nineties and noughties: Eat, Momo, Roka, Texture, to list a few.
And so to Gourmet And Craft (slogan: Gourmet Burgers & Craft Beers), which is surely wrong in every way. Two over-used, rather empty adjectives combining in a heavy-handed stab at something artisanal? An ornate font (Carnavalee Freakshow) that hints at – what – antiquity and tradition? It’s no surprise that on the menu is that luxury Knightsbridge staple, the wagyu burger, at a whopping £20.
And yet we reckon it’s still not actually the worst example of what could perhaps be called ‘peak ampersand’. That crown has to go to the truly cringingly named Scoff & Banter, who have six restaurants in touristy locations around town “celebrating British food in all its eccentric Britishness.”
Er, right. Thank God for the Hipster Name Generator, always on hand to inspire the next batch of destination new openings.
Got a favourite or worst example in the capital or beyond? Share it below.
