Nandos, Shrewsbury

When you're foraging for food on the way home, something's gone terribly wrong,

.

The menu read like a GCSE maths examination. There were combos, extras, a-bit-of-this-with-a-bit-of-that options, a peri-ometer and a detailed five point-plan on how to go about ordering and paying for food.

I half expected to turn over the page and be told: 'You must write your name and class number on the top of your food order. No copying is allowed. Cheats will be disqualified.'

It's apposite that the Nando's experience should come packaged in such a youth-friendly format. After all, the Shrewsbury branch is located next to the town's multiplex cinema and serves as a hang-out for bright young things who want to snack on chicken burgers, pittas, wraps and platters before enjoying Transformers, Harry Potter or some other big new release.

That makes for peaks and troughs in terms of service and, as a Nando's novice, I hit the restaurant at precisely the wrong time.

A big film was showing next door around 40 minutes later and a long queue had already formed. I'd have got faster service ordering a sistene chapel ceiling reconstruction.

Defying traditional restaurant convention, the waitress didn't show us to our table; we were placed in an area of communal seating so as to peruse the menu and consider the Nando's equation.

I opted for a chicken breast fillet wrap with two symbols beside it, a Y and what looked like a red tear. The Y denoted Yogurt mayonnaise with Peri-Peri and coriander while the red tear denoted chilli jam: it didn't make me cry, though the service very nearly did.

My friend ordered a Beanie pitta, which comprised a cheddar cheese, chickpea and sweetcorn burger packed with lentils, garden peas and pumpkin seeds.

It came with a symbol of its own, a bold and fearless M, which denoted Nando's special mayonnaise.

My friend also requested a side of fries, while I opted for a bowl of Peri-Peri nuts, comprising fiery almonds, cashews and macadamias. They looked delicious, though I've no idea whether they actually were . . . more of which later.

Having paid the bill, we were shown to our seats and collected our own cutlery and drinks en route.

There was a special surprise in the knife and fork draw, the handles of said implements were magnetised, which doubtless makes for hours of endless fun among the regular Nando's crowd.

Equation solved, order placed, bill paid, magnetised cutlery firmly in place, we sat at our table.

We admired the decor. We wondered where our food was. We chatted about the daily round. We wondered where our food was. We admired the decor, again. We started to doubt whether we'd be getting any food. We watched the waitress fly past with plates of appetising chicken. We wondered where our food was.

There was a wonderfully comedic one-liner from Joey, in Friends, during a scene with Ross, in which he discussed the latter's ineptitude in pursuing the object of his amore. It went something like this: Joey: "You waited too long and now you're in The Friend Zone."

Ross: "No, I'm not in the Zone."

Joey: "Come on, Ross; you're the mayor of the Zone."

The experience of Nando's made me feel like the hapless Ross, rather than the perceptive Joey.

I'd entered Nando's on a wave of good optimism, just as Ross had imagined he was doing the right thing in being patient with his dream girl.

But, little by little, by confidence, appetite and enthusiasm ebbed away, like a plastic bottle caught in a rip tide that's washed out to sea. So, by the time our food arrived, I'd already imagined myself back home, having a modicum of control over my hunger.

The nuts, of course, had not made an appearance. They were still in the nut jar, waiting for a waitress to perform the surely-not-that-difficult-it'll-only-take-about-27-seconds-task of transporting them from jar to vessel and placing them on our so-close-you-could-almost-reach-out-and-touch-it table. When my Double Chicken Breast Fillet Wrap Y Red Chilli Tear and my friend's Beanie Pitta M with fries arrived, I enquired about the nuts.

The waitress explained that she imagined I'd wanted them as a side dish, apologised if there'd been any apparent confusion and ensured they were forthcoming within about 27 seconds, for which I was grateful.

By then, however, I'd become the Mayor of the Not-Mad-About-Eating-My-Starter-At-The-Same-Time-As-The-Main Zone, so they remained untouched.

My friend enjoyed her Beanie enormously, though my fillet wrap was uninspiring. By the time we'd finished eating, many of the tables appeared to have emptied – presumably so that customers could nip next door to top up on popcorn, Pepsi and cinematic thrills.

We skipped dessert, the selections of cakes and cheesecakes had not inspired and even though it was not yet 8pm, I was a little afraid that I might be late for work the following morning if I ordered one.

Nando's had been a salutary experience. The food wasn't fast, nor was it particularly enjoyable.

Though the company has built an outstanding business model that is adept at catering to a particular demograph – which, in Nando's defence, I'm probably not a part of – it felt as though I was buying a concept, or experience, rather than a decent plate of food served by someone with an interest in whether I went hungry or not.

On the walk home, I passed a local stream in a beautiful and unspoiled spot of pristine greenery. The stream was immaculate and so I stopped to sit for 15 minutes or so, to enjoy the evening air. I noticed a raft of fresh, wild watercress growing in the stream, washed clean by the pure waters.

Gamely, I scrambled over rocks, harvested a handful of the fresh leaves and devoured them on the spot. They were fresh, peppery and light, so I clambered deeper for more. There was no chilli jam tear, but they were the highlight of the evening.

ADDRESS

Nandos, Old Potts Way, Shrewsbury, Shropshire SY3 7ET

Telephone: 01743 363 048