Drinks are forgotten, tables go unwiped and no one seems to know very much about the menu
Mizu is a pan-Asian restaurant in an expensive hotel in the north of the Lake District. It is also the Japanese word for water, which is something we have in abundance from late September to April, when living here requires tenacity. Daylight appears in ludicrously short bursts, all your clothes are damp, on radiators and/or smell of wet collie, and entertainment comes via observing the frequent rescue of tourists from Helvellyn, and eating.
Restaurants, however, can be a problem. I’ll distil decades of lived experience into a small grunt: the reputable, forever-namechecked ones are usually fine-dining, once-in-a-lifetime joints, while the very good, hearty, jolly, family-friendly places are rare and, rightfully, always booked up. Well, either that or they shut at 3.30pm. This leaves a whole lot of substandard, this-will-do-they’re-only-tourists cash pits. The difference in hospitality between the Lakes and the relatively nearby Ribble Valley is notable.
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