But for all his early success, Salt Bae still stood out like an island of bad taste.
So the news that his operation is now struggling (Nusr-et UK, which owns the Knightsbridge restaurant Nusr-Et, lost £5.4m before tax last year), while being part of the wider catastrophic state of hospitality under this Labour Government, does at least suggest that sense has been restored somewhat.
I’m loath to celebrate any closures in the industry, but the recent demise of outposts in New York and Boston doesn’t trouble me. His model shouldn’t work, and perhaps we are now seeing that it won’t after all. Vulgar theatrics, fuelled by a fan base on social media, no longer seem to be the order of the day.
Within the industry itself, most British chefs and restaurateurs will be emitting a sigh of relief after learning of the record losses suffered by Salt Bae’s business. For Gökçe symbolises, along with the likes of Thomas Straker (2.7m Instagram followers), that most painful of modern-day accoutrements – the perceived need to be seen to deliver something worthy of Instagram.
For it was always toil enough to have to ensure one’s blades were sharp, one’s surfaces clean, one’s brigade ship-shape, rent and rates paid, dining room full, food cooked and served.
But Salt Bae and his like changed all that – food was, his restaurants seemed to suggest, just more content for the social media hordes. His personal antics at diners’ tables aside, he took that most rustic of offerings, steak, and covered it with gold leaf.
In short, he is the world’s most pretentious restaurateur. The Emperor in new clothes, in plain sight. And, my, does that grate.
While the British instinct is to sit at a restaurant table and put away the phone, to commune over food and drink, to escape, just for a short time, Salt Bae has encouraged diners to be glued to their devices – to photograph, to film and to post about their meal as it unfolds.
It is egotistical, preening, self-aggrandising nonsense. No steak, no rack of lamb, however flourished, is worth north of £500. That is literally fool’s gold.
Now, the prospect of the circus leaving town is finally looming. Not a moment too soon – and good riddance to it.
