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😒 3/5 - Listen, if a restaurant wants to tell you how you should
By 👻 @Ben W., 09/18/2023 3:00 am
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Listen, if a restaurant wants to tell you how you should tip up, I don't mind. It's their restaurant. They have standards. It's a statement of intent. I'm up for it. It's just that if their standards then dip below what they set, you're going to pile in. Which is what I'm doing. It feels mean and nitpicks but they asked for it. A Jacket is preferable when you go to Gordon Ramsey's. It's hot, but mantit sweat marks are something I'm prepared to allow for food from a place that's been three Michelin Star since I last went 20 years ago. That's some feat and I' not going to argue. Let me be clear. The food itself was perfection. This is possibly part of my quibble though. There aren't many edges to this place, and none of them are textured. The service is perfectly charming. The food is immaculate. And the night went swimmingly. There just wasn't much to challenge the mind or the palate. The three menu choices were fun. A seven course tasting menu. A la carte. And a seven course tasting menu thought up on the day derived from whatever they felt was good from the produce delivered. Sounds like a laugh but I'm not wholly convinced they approve of laughter in the dining room. We went for two normal tasters and a surprise. The room is beige. If you like beige, you'll love the room. There's some sort of light feature in the middle of the room hanging from the ceiling that looks like an xxxl shower curtain holder. This is the most noticeable thing about the room. That and the sound of silence Art Garfunkel himself might have been deafened by as we enter. Thankfully things did liven up as the tables filled but that first impression isn't knockout like it is when you walk into somewhere like Core. Actually, The Fat Duck is similarly underwhelming in terms of its surroundings but they then proceed to charm you senseless with the food and the experience. A charm that's lacking here. Amuse bouches roll out and are happily tucked away. The cheese balls I wouldn't have questioned if they had been from Papa Johns. I often wonder when eating high end food that the irony is we end up saying 'amazing, it tastes just like snickers/wotsits/Ritz crackers'. The closer you get, the better. Just like a Snickers but £45 more expensive. Winner. Anyway, the cheeseballs tasted good. Like I was watching football in front of the telly surrounded by pizza boxes and money off leaflets for my next order. Second course in was introduced as a smoked salmon salad. It was in fact smoked duck breast. No worries. Except that for the grand I'm dropping here, I thought that sort of thing was completely ironed out in the training. I literally don't care that they announced the wrong main ingredient. I can work it out for myself. That is until I remind myself that the whole reason I'm paying a small fortune for this is that nothing like this is ever supposed to happen. And they preferred I wear a jacket. I've watched The Bear. I've understood that these people have gone through nervous breakdowns to attain perfection. And I understand that means I'm going to have to shell out. I understand I need to do this in a slightly restricted jacket. So when it isn't perfect, however innocent, it rankles. That and the fact that they 'preferred' me to wear a jacket on a boiling hot night. Well if I'm paying all this money and melting at the same time, I'd prefer to know that the dish is smoked duck breast rather than smoked salmon. See, places like this turn you into a twat. I don't want to be a twat. I just want to be a normal person enjoying great food in a nice T shirt. But they wouldn't let me do that so say hello to Mr Twat. We had a delicious concoction which was a sort of broth top layer with a cream underneath that was sheer delight. The star of the show and a hint to head chef's talent and her background coming from south east Asia. The Somellier was wonderful and gleefully imparted his knowledge and a couple of fine suggestions. Other than that, nothing to report other than excellently executed dish after dish enjoyed in neutral surroundings served by very proper staff although one girl loosened up enough to chat a bit about her job which was fascinating and fun. More of that please. My son turned 18. That was the reason for our visit. He loved every moment. It felt special to him. He'd never eaten food as good and he marvelled at all the watches in the room. This wisened old git just wanted something with a bit more oomph. I yearned for some prefect imperfection. A Lee Scratch Perry cow moo, a Stan Bowles shirt hanging out as he ghosts past three defenders. A quirk, a bit of derring do. For that, I'd come back donning two jackets and a corset.
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