Predictions are hard. It is far easier to look back on what has been than to see what is to come. This is true as with all things, though I stand a better chance with food than politics.
In 2024, as with the year before, there was endless burrata, boringly. There came smashburgers and posh fried chicken, an Italian-American surge – “grandma’s” meatballs, welcome – and US-style pizzas, from Detroit to New York to New Haven.
Dare I mention Guinness? It is now the UK’s bestselling beer and as I write this, we are facing a shortage; owner Diageo limiting stock as a result of such wild and relatively sudden popularity. The same happened with avocados a decade ago.
And so to 2025. I would proffer the notion that more political strife is on the way, tractors roaring and narcissists bickering. So too England doing badly at football and a well-known, slightly ageing male broadcaster being done for impropriety. I expect trains will continue to be late.
When it comes to food, some stargazing is easy. The bakery chain Gail’s will grow, as will Greggs. Chefs will, time and again, ask the nation to eat more interesting fish, while lunchtime TV presenters will glorify lesser-known vegetables. Few will listen.
There will be more sushi and Middle Eastern flavours, Mexican dining will hasten and thinner, chewier, crispier pizzas will take hold where Neapolitan numbers held on before. Menus will be peppered with the words “local”, “sustainable” and “ingredient-led”. I will despair: these should be par for the course at any credible restaurant.
What of pubs? These will sell Guinness by the flagon. But we might also welcome the more assured arrival of Murphy’s, arguably a smoother, creamier stout from Cork rather than Dublin.
Some prefer it. I love both, though I would suggest Murphy’s is more like what people thought Guinness was before they actually started drinking it. There is Beamish, too, also from Cork. Apparently one was started by a Catholic and another by a Protestant.
I anticipate more food-focused pubs. Pubs are a joyful space and so beloved here in Britain. That we eat well in them these days is a blessing.
Big pies and proper fish and chips ought to be all the rage, so too barbecued meats and vegetables grown just outside the door. Also, a proficiency in cooking: using odd bits of fish and animals that we should be eating but aren’t. I am a firm believer in eating meat so long as we respect it.
On the way out? Hopefully burrata, which I love but see no need for in restaurants. It is nothing but a cop-out.
I see no cause to put caviar on everything either, joyous as it might be. I do not wish to see its total eradication but I also think it is unnecessary a lot of the time. Makes everything taste like caviar.
Cod’s roe, too. These “umami bomb” shortcuts are just that: shortcuts. I don’t mind them so long as the cookery is fine, but too often they are a mask.
Thick burgers? Get rid of them. Average pizza, the stuff with which we contended before the arrival of Franco Manca and the like? Time to go.
Average noodles and middling takes on “Pan-Asian” are also hugely dated now. We are all far better acquainted with dishes such as ramen, laksa, pad see ew and should not settle for those diluted to nothing.
I hope West African food gains an even stronger foothold in 2025. I love that we are learning more about it and restaurants are getting the accolades they deserve. I also enjoy the semi-recent, mainstream acknowledgement that there is no such thing as “Chinese” or “Indian”. Reductive to be tiresome.
Shall I end with a big claim? A riotous, combative take? Fine: I think Nando’s could start to wane. For how long might it survive on what is essentially dry chicken and reasonable fries?
It’s not terrible, I don’t think it should die a death, but it needs an overhaul. All it ever seems to do is bring out a hot sauce, but there are so many hot sauces.
There is so much chicken. Nando’s is dull, monotonous and linear. I am all for restaurants doing one thing and doing one thing well, but Nando’s isn’t even doing chicken well any more.
The middle ground is in peril: Britain has no time for Bella Italia, Prezzo or Cafe Rouge in the modern age.
This year, I’m excited about new restaurants, new flavours, new food. I hope we all eat new fish and take more notice of meat. I hope more people are able to eat “locally sourced” vegetables.
And I hope food prices stop spiralling out of control, or all of what I have written here will pale entirely into insignificance.
