Reviews or Comments for 'Troubadour' (3)

"This place is an institution round here. If you haven't checked it out yet, do. The eccentric decor, with old coffeepots in the window and bizarre stuff all over the walls is really worth seeing. I've been to a poetry reading here which was good fun, believe it or not. Food is good but nothing special. One thing that bugs me here is the fact that they seem to play the same Brandenburg Concerto over the stereo whenever I turn up. A few times was OK, but now I've had enough.

I have been going to the Troubadour since 1987 and I have had very fond memories of it - it was truly eccentric and its ambience was truly special - to have retained its magic for so many years is a rare feat for a cafe in London. Unfortunately, the management have thought fit to expand the premises and although it has been very nicely decorated, it appears to have lost its soul. I do hope that my view changes as it is early days and maybe more can be done to bring back the magic.

"I love this cafe, but it's a real shame the staff are a bit clueless. Nice, but clueless. We were shown to a table by somebody who said "it's booked, so we need it back in an hour" which is fine because we just wanted a drink and a snack. We proceeded to order glasses of wine, but when I asked the waitress if the pate was smooth or rough, she said sharply - "we need this table back in an hour." "I know," I replied. I thought that was a strange thing to say, seeing as it doesn't take an hour to bring a slab of pate to the table and for four people to eat it - or does it at the Troubadour? She trotted off to the kitchen to ask about the pate and came back. "Rough," she said. I was hoping for smooth, but decided to order it anyone. The pate comes out - a great big beautiful brick of a thing, with some yummy toast. But wait - it was as smooth as baby's bottom! The dessert experience didn't fair much better from another waitress on another occasion. "Is the tart very tart," we asked. "Haven't tasted it," she said. "Could you ask the kitchen?" we said. She disappeared. On her return, she came up with an astounding answer. "The kitchen don't know either - they order it from the caf? down the road." Amazing, that they don't even know what they're serving tastes like - do you think they perhaps would taste a slither just to find out? Very strange behaviour. It's such a pity. What a great place apart from the dippy service."