London Connect

'It's the new thing!' I keep reading in the papers. Usually in the same paragraph as 'the new foodie fad', 'pop-up', 'guerilla dining', or 'underground'. Yet amid this current media feeding frenzy, surely I'm not the only one who can't see the emperor's new clothes?

I'm referring, of course, to the 'new' trend of food-loving amateur cooks hosting smart dinner parties, then charging their guests for the privilege. It seems to be the charging money bit that takes people aback - well it's not very British, is it? Guests are not expected to pay. But what if the guests are virtual strangers?

There are several entrepreneurs in London doing exactly this, operating de facto restaurants from their own homes, in the grey area between hosting a dinner party and running a licensed restaurant (see our feature on some of the secret restaurants in London). The advantages for the host are clear: no VAT, not tax, no health inspectors, no red tape. And the cash goes straight into their pockets.

For the guests, they get what can often be an interesting experience. Often much more amateur, but usually cheaper than you'd pay in a licensed restaurant, more casual, and more intimate.

But what, exactly, is new about this?

When I was a student, my circle of friends would often host dinner parties and invite friends and acquaintances. And because we were all broke, we'd specify: please bring along a contribution for the kitty. Everyone did.

When I moved to London in the 1980s, I was still broke. At first I lived in a squat in a neighbourhood where all my neighbours were also squatters, in Vauxhall. Most of the properties were in poor condition. Many of them didn't have kitchens or decent cooking facilities. A few of the more community-minded neighbours set up an improvised café in an empty property, and asked for contributions for meals. Over the months, 'the caff' became quite successful. I'd help out sometimes. We scavenged food from nearby New Covent Garden Market, and the neighbouring Unigate Dairy (now no longer there) would sometimes donate a tray or two of milk cartons that were past their sell-by date. The food was vegetarian, and became much more sophisticated within the first year. Typically, the contribution for dinner would be about £3. But we lived in fear of being busted by the authorities.

Amazingly, the Bonnington Centre Café is still there, 25 years on. Now it's licensed, conforms to all the regulations and still looks scruffy, but these days it's all legal and above board.

The Bonnington Café is not an isolated example. There have been scores of other enterprises in London that I've known about; I've only written about one, The Brick Room, in 2001; it's now defunct. They didn't conform to environmental health regulations and flouted every other rule, but that was all part of the fun.

The new generation

So what is different about the new wave of 'underground restaurants'? The main difference is that the name is an oxymoron. Many of the current wave have websites, court food bloggers, and, frankly, revel in any publicity, admitting easily recognised broadsheet reviewers, posing for newspaper shoots and the like. What, tell me, is 'underground' about that?

The better attempts of these new wave of underground restaurants are mostly fun, harmless, and a way for keen amateur chefs to dabble playing restaurateur. These amateur restaurants tend to be short-lived, and are not somehow 'better' or 'worse' than those using trained chefs, or paying their dues to the inland revenue. They're just different.

The new wave of 'underground' restaurants are also, I suspect, a sign of the times - where no thought or meal is too banal to tweet or blog about, and where a dinner party becomes a media event. But perhaps more importantly, they fulfill a deep human need to for sharing and giving, and it's clearly something people are craving right now. Now, who do I have coming for dinner this weekend - and are they bringing their own wine?