Big Moe's Diner recently opened its garishly chrome-gilded doors in Aldgate. For how long these remain wedged open, we will have to wait and see.
Immediate warning signs included:
- a website assembled by a GCSE student where none of the fonts match; and
- being immediately handed an A5 disclaimer on-entry about the necessity for patience throughout the course of the impending poor service.
My doubts about this establishment's American authenticity were first raised when I noticed that the listed ingredients of "Big Moe's Bacon Burger" contained a suspicious absence of "bacon". Something didn't smell right - and I'm not just talking about the bubblegum milkshake I'd just ordered.
And then it hit me - it hit me harder than the slap in the face of Barack Obama that this restaurant delivers by its very existence. Yes, this "classic" American diner - this "traditional" Route 66-style stop-off, as American as apple pie, with a menu devised by Uncle Sam himself - does not serve pork. Wave goodbye to any hopes of US-style hot dogs or actual crispy bacon. Say hello to your favourite, watery slices of verruca sock-style, chicken strip replacements. Mmmm, double helping please!
Most worryingly - from both a financial and mental health perspective - everything is branded. If you can name it, it's got Big Moe's name on it: the straw covers, the toothpicks, the napkins, the imminent company winding-up order. This branding bonanza goes all the way down to the fabric of the expensive red leather seats in which you sit - these have BIG MOE's tightly sewn into them, making future re-sale upon the franchise's liquidation almost impossible (even the corner seat which sticks out into the aisle as a result of architectural inaccuracies).
And then we get to the pièce de résistance. In the centre of this over-the-top shrine to 50's American culture sits an enormous red Cadillac chassis, which would have the Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares production team licking their lips. This motor car takes up the space of what could otherwise fit up to 5 or 6 customer tables. Instead, its shiny, hollow exterior serves only to provide a novelty sized distraction to its own inadequacy...its glossy red paint-job providing a poignant reflection of the restaurant itself.
In the end, the place does a decent burger and a plate of chips. Will this be enough to recoup the many thousands of pounds spent decking the walls with imported US vintage goods? Only Big Mo knows. read more