Running late, like some trains MARION SAUVEBOIS and a dining friend ‘do lunch’ at Bottelino’s Italian eatery

“I’M sorry we’ve had to give your table away.” It wasn’t the greeting we’d been hoping for when we arrived at Bottelino’s.

But yes, we were late — 17 minutes late to be precise, although technically when we pulled up in the car park we were only 15 minutes behind schedule. My friend feeling rather fragile after a night out, the few hundred yards to the Italian chain did take an inordinate amount of time.

Thankfully, the maître d’s crestfallen expression was swiftly followed by a flurry of activity to free up a booth, magically conjure an empty table or squeeze us in a corner (we eventually landed by the toilets), which went some way to fill us with optimism. 

The restaurant, set in the Railway Works’ historic old pattern store, was rammed, which we took as a sign of quality. With hindsight, we should have seen this setback as an omen.
Ten minutes on the dot after our tardy arrival, we were shown to our booth in a flood of apologies.
Seated at last, we perused the lengthy menu. 

Overwhelmed by the sheer size of Bottelino’s offering — what with lunch deals, Christmas specials and the regular fare — we had to send two waitresses away in the space of 10 minutes. 
Had we known they would not return for another 35, despite our best efforts to draw their attention, we probably would have switched to speed reading mode and placed our orders at the first opportunity. 

This lull gave us ample time to examine our surroundings, which seemed to me more reminiscent of an 80s canteen hall than an award-winning chain. 

Finally a smiling waitress came bouncing towards us. Hunger had set in dramatically and we blurted out our order hurriedly, or so I imagine by the alarmed look on her face. 

Never mind, we repeated the starters again, more slowly: mozzarella, tomatoes, olives and basil focaccia for my friend (£3.95) and smoked salmon focaccia for me (£4.95), two of the three focaccia options on the menu.

When again she stared at us puzzled, I pointed out the dishes on the menu. This turned out to be a waste of time because while she got one right, the salmon had been lost in translation and turned into parma ham and salami.

You can’t fault the staff on manners — our waitress smiled apologetically and returned quickly with the salmon. And it looked the part, with thick slices of smoked fish slathered generously in cream cheese, heaped on a bed of fresh antipasti and sandwiched between wedges of focaccia.

Sadly the bread was as tough as cardboard, fresh-out-of-the-fridge cold and far from the doughy chunk of heaven I was longing for. The filling made up for it somewhat, though.

We then waited what seemed again like an eternity for our main courses. Playing it safe, my friend had ordered a tried and tested classic, Maximus (£10.50), penne served in bolognese topped with meatballs. 

An embattled glass-half full type even she couldn’t muster enthusiasm for the stack of pasta (shells, not penne) barely drizzled in tomato sauce. In her own words: “It was dry, there was not enough sauce and the pasta was overcooked.”

Rather surprised to spot my favourite Italian speciality on a chain menu, I had high hopes for my veal Marsala (£15.50), which is meant to be a tender slab of meat smothered in a creamy mushroom and wine sauce. 

What was placed in front of me sadly did not live up to expectations. You could count the rubbery mushrooms on the fingers of one hand and the veal was disappointingly tough. And the over-sweet ochre gravy had a thin film on its surface.

We decided to skip dessert in favour of a coffee, which tasted burnt.

On the plus side, £3 was discounted from our bill as part of a lunch offer... and the starchy fare worked wonders on my dining companion’s hangover.