The East Coast line’s dining cars have long pampered travellers. Now they are being withdrawn, Patrick Barkham joins the 16.30 from King’s Cross On a white tablecloth before me is a venison and pistachio terrine, two slabs of medium- rare ribeye and a plate of British cheeses. A gentle tinkle of silver cutlery, and unsurpassed views of the British countryside – May blossom, a paddock of horses, children on BMXs – unfurl under a setting sun. If this was the opening of a new restaurant, critics would be salivating. But this unique dining experience is, in fact, closing in three weeks. The east coast mainline’s 15 restaurant cars are being withdrawn from service , ending a 132-year tradition on the grand old route between King’s Cross, Newcastle and Edinburgh. The only crumb of comfort? The British restaurant car will survive on four trains a day between Paddington and Penzance. Dining cars were once the gilding on the age of the train. When James Bond enjoyed dinner on the Orient Express and watched his ally Captain Nash order red wine with fish , Bond knew he was really a Spectre assassin impersonating an English gentleman. In Stella Artois’ latest ad campaign , the dining carriage is the ultimate destination for the social-climbing drinker. These gently swaying restaurants have always been a classy public place where even grubby standard class passengers could taste first-class treatment. As a waiter on the East Coast service recalls, lone diners would complain about being seated together, but once the wine started flowing they would all be chatting and swapping business cards. “The deals that got done in this car,” he sighs. It is telling that East Coast ‘s restaurant car is being replaced by a new, dedicated quiet coach in first class. Travellers, it seems, no longer want fine dining, or a chance to socialise; we prefer to cocoon ourselves in a private world, logged on, spilling sandwich crumbs on our keyboards. So East Coast, the publicly owned company charged with spicing up the route ahead of re-privatisation, is following the example of Virgin and Eurostar and introducing “at-seat” dining – “free” hot meals for all first-class passengers. Almost half of the customers surveyed favoured these airline-style meals, says a spokesman; the rest, it seems, expressed no clear preference. To see what is being lost I boarded the 16:30 to Newark North Gate. There were no Bond villains or Stella babes; just me and four other business people. The venison terrine was nicely spiced; a perfect accompaniment to the vista north of Stevenage. As Peterborough cathedral hove into view, so did the ribeye – tender, enormous and perfectly cooked, delivered with silver service. I could choose from a selection of fine wines, prosecco or whisky but – Bond would assassinate me for this – it had to be a can of John Smiths. Between mouthfuls of Blacksticks blue cheese, I asked another diner, Alan Griffin, if he was saddened by the decline of the dining car. “The standard of food you get at a first-class seat when there isn’t a restaurant car definitely isn’t as good, so I do regret it a bit,” he says. “I don’t know what the motivation is but I assume it’s to make more money.” East Coast says the withdrawal of the cars is part of a £12m programme featuring 19 extra services a week, including new return services to Lincoln and Harrogate and a four-hour “Flying Scotsman” service from Edinburgh to London. Most of all, though, East Coast wants to increase disparity between standard and first class – or, as it prefers to put it, increase the incentive to travel first class – by offering free meals at every first-class seat. Surely serving a million meals each year instead of 100,000 will reduce quality? “We understand the heritage of the route and fine dining is very important for our consumers. We’re working very hard with suppliers to ensure the quality and variety remains as high as people expect,” says the spokesman. “It’s about providing better value with the first-class ticket.” Passengers are also suspicious that it will push up the price of first-class tickets. Serving all these extra meals certainly means the friendly train staff will no longer have the time to provide such excellent service. “It’s expensive, but you’ve got this,” says one of the train stewards, pointing to the woodlands and brilliant yellow fields of oilseed rape as I pay my £32.45 bill. To me that seems excellent value for such an elevated experience. The return journey from Newark North Gate, slumped in a standard seat and plugged into my laptop, seems both more hurried and a lot slower. Rail travel Patrick Barkham guardian.co.uk