The start of the year is typically when publications look into their metaphorical crystal ball and try to predict what the next 12 months have in store for the restaurant sector. Predicting dining trends is a rather frivolous exercise, but one that we are not immune to, and you can read our food and drink predictions for 2026. But what about those trends that we’d rather see the back of? Though by no means a definitive list, here are a few things we (not just me, even though it’s my image you see here, although being miserable I do have the most gripes) would like to disappear from the UK restaurant scene this year - although we realise they probably won’t...
Undercooked steak
Number one on my list is the unpalatable truth about undercooked steaks. I remember 20 years ago the jokes in the industry about customers ordering a steak well done and the proliferation of better steak houses, better quality meat and a more educated diner have no doubt led to a decline in the number of people asking for their meat to be ‘cremated’. And yet now I have found myself on numerous occasions wishing my steak had spent a little bit more time on the heat when it is proudly delivered beautifully charred on the outside but basically raw inside and therefore close to impossible to ingest. Quite when ‘blue’ suddenly became the de facto cooking of large slabs of meat is hard to pinpoint – I suspect the rise in popularity of large Basque-style steaks that require a different cooking technique and are more tolerant of very light cooking has something to do with it – but I’d like it to stop. (Stefan Chomka)
Two-sip cocktails
This seems to be a trend driven by financial necessity on a restaurant’s part rather than customer need. Yes, a dinky daiquiri might look cool and novel, but if I’ve got to order another two seconds after the first things are going to get quite boring quite quickly. (SC)
Social media economics
A growing number of restaurants and pubs are using social media videos to explain just how little money they make on key products such as pints or key dishes. The intention is laudable: margins are tighter than ever, costs keep rising, and operators are trying to help consumers understand that running a hospitality business at the moment is akin to wading through treacle with your legs tied together while wearing a blindfold, yet many of these videos misrepresent how restaurant and pub economics actually work. By presenting a single ‘profit per pint’ figure that bundles together fixed costs like rent and utilities with per-unit costs such as beer, duty and VAT, they create the impression that every pint (let’s say) sold generates the same tiny return. That simply isn’t how the sums add up. It is perfectly reasonable to say that, averaged across a month, a business made 14p per pint sold, it is misleading to suggest - as these videos do - that each pint inherently only makes 14p, regardless of volume, timing or trading conditions. (Joe Lutrario)
Extreme eating challenges
The obsession with trying to eat an unfathomably large portion of food within a tight time scale is a foundation of America’s food culture, one that has been celebrated on countless occasions thanks to programmes such as Man v Food (which was excellent). The trend crossed the pond in the late noughties but the appetite for taking on food challenges in the UK just wasn’t the same as our American cousins (both metaphorically and physically). Yet with the rise of social media, they are back, with a newfound fascination for watching people almost rupture their stomachs in exchange for a free t-shirt and their name on the wall of fame of Keith’s Caff. With rising obesity, and food waste levels that border on the criminal it’s all starting to look a bit disgusting. How many times watching someone fail to eat a mega belly busting breakfast is too many? (SC)
Time-limited bookings
Of all the operational hangovers to come out of the Covid pandemic – mass adoption of QR menus in casual dining, the rise of the self-service kiosks in QSR – the one that really continues to stick in the craw is the adoption of set, time-limited restaurant bookings. If hospitality is truly about being warm, generous and welcoming then having a booking system tell you your reservation is for 90 minutes and not a minute more feels like the antithesis of that. Table for two at 7:30pm? Great, providing you fuck off by 9pm. Listen, I do get it – times are tough and turning tables is a necessity to keep the wolf from the door, but shooing diners out onto the street the second they’ve finished their meal is not the solution. It leaves a bad taste and, from my own personal experience, rarely does much to encourage a repeat visit. (James McAllister)
The caviarification of dining
Don’t get me wrong, I love a bit of Oscietra as much as the next over privileged person, but its use to make the mundane more glamorous (and to charge extra for it) has grown a bit thin. Once considered a poor man’s dish and then transitioning to becoming the heigh of luxury, in its current phase caviar is treated as a must-have accessory, like adding a Labubu to a Miu Miu handbag, rather than something to be enjoyed for what it is. Caviar bumps may be a bit naff, but at least it’s eating it in its pure form. (SC)
Out of date websites
Pre-planning an order has become second nature for many of us, whether it’s to find the best, healthiest or most budget-friendly option without spending half the meal squinting at a menu. It also plays a role in choosing where to eat in the first place, helping to avoid venues with limited appeal and opt instead for somewhere more aligned with our tastes. So, when the menu provided online doesn’t match up in person, I can’t help but feel deflated. While in places with larger menus, offering a range of replacements, this may feel mildly irritating; in venues with a more concise offering, the absence of the dish you’d already committed to can significantly impact the experience, leaving you to settle for something less appealing and, at times, wishing you’d eaten elsewhere. If you choose to put a menu on your website, make sure it’s up-to-date or don’t bother at all. (Samira Gover)
Mocktails that cost a fortune
As someone who loves drinking cocktails, I am prepared to pay for a well-made drink that gives you that wonderful kick to start a meal or something that provides a rich soporific ending. What I’m not prepared to pay for is a drink that offers none of the fun (and often more of the sickly sweetness), but which costs the same - and sometimes more – than the hard stuff. Yes, some mocktails do use non-alcohol spirits that can be expensive, but more often than not they tend to contain juices, bitters and soda water and have no right to be upwards of £15 in central London restaurants. If ever there was an incentive to stick to tap water when not drinking alcohol, then it’s the soaring price of mocktails. (SC)