Dining with an ever-changing view

Train food doesn't have to be awful sandwiches and a wretched 'cafe'

It was around the moment a white-haired chap started regaling fellow passengers within hearing distance about his various health issues that a carriage in the 17:48 from London Paddington to Cardiff magically transmogrified into a mobile version of a gentleman’s club.

Swap the Great Western Railway four-set with a wing-back Chesterfield, and one could have been quietly earwigging in Pall Mall, rather than somewhere between Reading and Swindon.

‘I went to a clinic off Harley Street. It was like entering a spaceship. It was amazing! The doctor was very good. He said I needed an operation for my heart and blood pressure. It does cause me pain. But he said recuperation would take six months... six months! I reckon one day feeling a bit ill every fortnight to avoid that is worth it.’

I felt hypocritical judging this dubious medical conclusion as I enjoyed a double gin and tonic. But really!

Inveigling my way into this ‘club’ has long been a desire, for the food rather than the pomp. For decades our family has holidayed in Pembrokeshire and there are the occasional services that run from the centre of London to Lamphey, a request stop where someone’s back garden, with a trampoline and glasshouse full of fruit, backs on to a little narrow, flowered, platform. What better way to arrive than from a dining car?

But it never happened. Inexplicably, Lamphey wasn’t deemed a significant enough stop to justify the inclusion of a dining car. Last week, though, presented something of an opportunity so I joined the mean-faced commuters as they returned home on a fast train to places like Bristol and Cardiff.

The dining car’s welcoming hosts ushered me in at Reading and presented me with a menu on thick card. I later requested a copy to take away but was told it was forbidden

.

The other diners were four single men and a lone woman. Each had a half bottle of wine to their side of their plates, accompanying their starters, and there was a rolling murmur of chat. They’d all done this before.

A member of staff explained how she hated cooking lamb as the field opposite her house was full of “lovely baby lambs” frolicking about. I ordered lamb and a smoked salmon starter. Two others, perhaps moved by the lady’s speech, had fillet steak regardless of the fact it wasn’t on the menu. They were regulars, and maybe more sensitive souls than me. With their main course, they each ordered full bottles of wine to share with themselves

.

The food, freshly cooked in a galley kitchen, is terrific, if pricey. It’s not reserved for first class passengers; if there is space, anyone from standard class can walk down and take a seat. And there is normally space. “Thursday is the new Friday” a waitress told me but there were never more than seven people in the carriage; it can do 17 covers. No one from standard class came despite a few announcements on the PA. This is a pity as train travel deserves good food rather than the insipid offerings from a trolley or the awful on-board cafes. Goodness, how I miss the old buffet carriages.

Ultimately, I was enjoying myself too much and Cardiff came disappointingly quickly. I had no time for dessert and left with cheery waves from the staff.

A day or so earlier, I’d come across a post by Tim Dunn, a train traveller bounding with effervescent enthusiasm. “This is the greatest cooked breakfast I have ever had aboard a train,” he gushed with typical understatement. “The scenery is spectacular, the seats are superb, the staff are cheery, and this food was just £12.50”. Undeniably persuasive.

After Cardiff, I was due to head to Church Stretton and, after checking the timetable, found a service with onboard dining from the Welsh capital to Ludlow where I could easily change. On the whole, I’ve not been a fan of Transport for Wales. Running through busy tourist areas, trains are frequently inexplicably short, often just two carriages packed with people clutching wind breaks, dinosaur lilos, buckets and those large rectangular check bags filled with goodness knows what. The staff are often stressed and sometimes poorly trained; we missed our stop once as a woman pushing a food trolley was in the corridor making it impossible to get our bags and alight in time. Fortunately, as so many services pop-pop from the most minute of stations, we didn’t travel too far.

It was, then, quite a surprise when an enormous Class 67 pulled into the platform, hauling several carriages. It was a proper train

.

In the carriage with me was a woman and her mother and another couple. There were no tablecloths, and one young chap was lolling in the kitchen with little evidence of prep being done. It wasn’t entirely promising but I was assured food would be available shortly.

Sure enough, a menu appeared, and I copied Tim, and ordered a Welsh breakfast, complete with black pudding. “My mother has been looking forward to this all week,” the woman behind me exclaimed. And well she might; the breakfast was excellent and terrific value. The whole menu was keenly priced; two courses including a sirloin steak can be had for £24.95 (the equivalent on GWR is £38 with a £15 supplement for a fillet steak). I paid £37 for a first class ticket, little more than the standard alternative.

And what a joy it was. Gone was the somewhat fusty club atmosphere of GWR; this was egalitarian, fun and chatty. As Tim says “More people need to know about this… the incredible dining cars” of TfW. “We are cruising along at 90mph – past the peaked hills of the Welsh Borders with an ace three course steak lunch for under £30 and staff who smile and chat.”

My children are embarrassed that, when packing a picnic for the train, I include glasses, cutlery and a tablecloth in my bag. Trains are the perfect places to eat and the general offering from operating companies is woeful, and I prefer to enjoy my food.

In The Uncommon Traveller, Charles Dickens described the railway food on offer; “brown hot water stiffened with flour”, “glutinous lumps of gristle and grease”, “shining brown pasties, composed of unknown animals within”. He could well be writing about most train food today.

But it really doesn’t need to be like that. Great Western Railway and Transport for Wales have shown the way forward.