Food critics wield an extraordinary influence over the restaurant industry. With a flick of the pen, they have the undeserved power to make or break careers. They love to dish it out – and make a tidy sum doing so – but no one questions their knowledge of cuisine. The Fence has hired a Michelin-starred restaurateur to go undercover and analyse their oeuvre. This time, it’s the turn of the anonymous Marina O’Loughlin, lately of the Sunday Times.
History is littered with anonymous artists. What is it about the mystery of a hidden identity that we all love so much? From Jane Austen to Banksy, Burial to the Brontë sisters, there is something about never quite reaching the person behind the artwork that tantalises us.
And, from one anonymous reviewer to another, I have to say Marina is my favourite critic. For more than a decade she has remained masked. In our industry, we are all hooked, because like any great anonymous character, she denies us access to her world.
Celebrity as a concept is meaningless in the modern age. Everybody opens up to display everything – their homes, friends, children’s lives, etc. No stone is left unturned in the vacuous hope to get more traction; to gain more followers. And we all lap it up.
But Marina is different, she’s worked very hard to ensure we can’t find out who she is. Even the picture of her holding a book in front of her face is someone else. Even her bloody avatar has a disguise. She’s known as a master of camouflage. She fooled me once, coming into one of my places in a blonde wig.
Not much is known about her, apart from that she’s Scottish while also claiming to be half-Italian – but a lot of Brits say that in an attempt to sound a little more continental. Her anonymity sets her apart from the rest of her parasitic peers who are dying to be spotted. Jay Rayner once wrote, ‘I do sometimes envy the true anonymity of my colleague @Marina O’Loughlin. She does get the skinny on crappy service in a way I cannot…’
Yeah, sure Jay, is that before or after you jumped out of your seat (uninvited) to play the piano at Quo Vadis?
Of course, I could moan about some minor gripes. Her conflict of interest with Noble Rot: she’s an investor in the restaurant, a writer for the magazine and champions the brand on Instagram. Then again, she’s never reviewed it, so why should I? I could slag her off for her incessant moaning about the absence of carbohydrate, or her slight shortsightedness regarding wine. Like all the other reviewers, she talks of hipsters and wines that taste of cider. (Accept it guys, there are entire cities that only serve natural wine. To not engage with it and dismiss it as vinegar is failing as a journalist who writes about restaurants). But I won’t because she is unashamedly honest. She can be forgiven for thinking a meal is not real without a large slice of bread or holding the view that all wine can be improved with a sprinkling of sulphur.
