Michelin Star-struck

As I've said before I'm new to this city so I'm a bit of a novice on the "in" restaurant front. Of course I've heard of The Ivy or Fat Duck but I couldn't give you directions to it from my house...

I love food... I was raised by a mother who loves food. Eithne's porn is a cookery book. She reads them like others read novels. My mother will describe her holidays in terms of the meals she's enjoyed... hence Spain didn't really appeal cos she found the penchant for olive oil just a little too much. So I'm a tough customer when it comes to food. When I was about 2 my mother was chastising me for being naughty... my response was "I'm just not impressed...." And its been my food moto ever since. I don't care if the meat is by royal appointment and the carrot manure can be traced back thro 3 generations... I like taste and I like fun. I'm not impressed by pomp and ceremony.

And so we arrive at the point of the story. My friend decided to celebrate her birthday at a Michelin starred restaurant in town (will leave nameless cos don't wish to be sued). I was the first to arrive.. and my heart sank as I walked thro the door. Yip... the receiving line was out in force to greet me. A mater d', hostess and assorted waiting staff ranged out to welcome me, take my coat, take my friend's present, my bag, the flowers... I thought I was going to have a fight on my hands to keep my dignity cos these folks were determined to divest me of my every burden. I was escorted to my table, followed by the receiving line carrying my presents, bag and flowers. I ordered a gin and tonic, more for a way to distract at least 2 of the staff, and waited for the others to arrive.

Next hurdle to clear was the food. We were on a special menu so the choices were limited to 2 per course. As is usual with these places, the menu lists every ingredient so that if you wanted, you could recreate the dish at home... why why... I ordered the fish something or other to start and the venison for main. I mentioned to the waiter that I didn't eat meat rare or even medium rare. He was suitably vague and didn't respond to my clear promptings. Its one of the many things that irritate me about these places.. the staff are more concerned with not upsetting the prima donna in the kitchen that the customers who are mortgaging their first born to afford desert.

Having chosen the food, the team of food waiters took a pace back to reload like musket-bearing soldiers in the civil war and the wine team stepped up. The sommelier treated us to a witty little story about the wine grower and his arthritis.. okay I'm exaggerating but seriously, just pour already, I'm here to see my friends. I was on the verge of asking the mater d' to check the booking... table for 5... and there are 5 at the table so butt out...

The amuse bouche arrives.... my bouche is not amused but I'm hungry so I tuck in.. well I take a bite and its over cos this is Michelin so portion control is an anorexic's dream.

Next stop the starter.... next pet peeve... please don't introduce me to my dinner. I ordered it and I am of standard intelligence so I think I can join the dots and establish that this is my fish soupy thing with scallops and a liberal sprinkling of paprika. Again, tasted fine but only just. Eithne you have a lot to answer for.

Main course... the menu had detailed the venison would be accompanied by "a variation of tomatoes". I was really quite looking forward to this cos I'm not a big venison fan. So the dictionary definition of variation is "a difference or deviation in structure or character from others of the same species or group" and boy did these guys take this literally. On the plate was some undercooked meat (possibly not undercooked but I'd specifically stated that I didn't like rare meat) and some raw tomatoes. The variation was in the presentation.. I think. Some of the tomatoes were sliced and some where quartered but all were raw and completely unadulterated by a dressing, sauce or something that could take the baldly look off them. I was then (personally) introduced to the other vegetables, all had met a similar fate, wafer thin slices deep fried into tasteless crisps and of absolutely no leaven to the nutritional stodge that was my fate.

Of course a new course means a new wine so that sommelier stepped up with a new and equally uninteresting story about the history of the vineyard and the grape variety... pour man, just bloody pour.

I wont drag you through the desert and coffee.

I can't say that I didn't enjoy the evening because I had great fun with my friends... but there was a distinct element of Dunkirk spirit. I don't understand why people book months in advance in order to eat food that would look well in a museum but is a triumph of style over taste. And maybe if you were raised with servants then the obsequious behaviour of the front of house team might appeal but I wasn't and it doesn't. There are so many restaurants in this town. So many great evenings out to have with friends, without the waiters hitching a ride! And as for the food.... I wasn't so much struck by a Michelin star as smacked with a Michelin starred bill.