Telephone: 020-7247 3227
Address: 24 Upper Level, Liverpool Street Station, Broadgate, London EC2
Rating: 11.5/20
The Japanese kaiten, or conveyor belt, restaurant has been here a while now. Moshi Moshi was the first. As the food passed before me, high above the concourse of Liverpool Street station, I was reminded of the goods trains of my youth. From there, it was a short step to Auden's commentary about the night mail train, where the rhythm of the words captures that of the wheels on the tracks. From there, it was a long haul to the following...
This is the food train bearing the sushi,
The bowls of miso, the tamago-yaki,
The nigiri special, the almond
tempura,
The nasudengaku, temaki, ikura.
Food for the hurriers, food for the rich,
Food for those with a raw fish itch.
Man in pinstripe, man in shirt,
Woman in dark blue executive skirt,
Seizing the moment between
deal and deal
To make the most of a one-stop meal.
Out stretches the hand, lifts the bowl,
To feed the mouth of a
stressed-out soul.
Feeding with eyes, feeding with mind;
Food of the healthy and
slimming kind.
This is the image of modern eating,
Efficient, soulless, banal and fleeting.
Down on platform and concourse,
Pallid commuter and shopper mill;
Look up at the board
announcing departures,
For Thorpe-le-Soken, Billericay,
Hackney and Hockley.
Set on the dark plains of Essex
and regions beyond,
Where consorts await them
In neat, executive dwellings.
With lights turned on.
Mouthful of ari, mouthul of kani,
Wafu for you, gyoza for two,
How easy to yield to temptation.
Each plate seems cheap in relation.
We never quite reach saturation.
In spite of prior calculation,
The bill is far above its station.
Food circumstantial, result financial.
Dishes on colour-coded plates
flash by fast,
Just like a goods train trundling past.
A dish for the girl, a dish for the lad,
Three dishes for the solitary git, so sad.
Dishes for the needy, the seedy,
the greedy,
Hustler, bustler, straight or gay,
Fuelling up at the end of the day,
Choosing in haste, eating at speed,
Fast food for the modern
worker, indeed;
Decent, tasteless, safe and sound,
At the bar in the station where
the food train goes round.
Around and above soars
A vaulting structure; celebrates
Victorian confidence and
energy in wrought iron,
Celebrates engineering,
aesthetics and permanence.
On Platform 9 the 18.10
Pulls out - and then stops.
Just down the track, without
explanation.
Wearily, we peck at our phones.
Perhaps it's just as well we stopped
For a fix of rice and raw fish after all.
With apologies to WH Auden.
· Open Mon-Fri only, 11.30am-9.30pm. Menus: £6.70-£11.50.
