...will I go for the "fine dining" experience. That's it. Over. Finished.
I've posted about this before, and it seems I never learn. I've posted about weird little garnishes and jus and little sprigs of this and that, and going home hungry at the end of it all. And I went back for more (why?) But on Tuesday, I took no.1 son for lunch, as a belated birthday celebration, and afterwards, I decided never again.
John is a foodie, and a great believer in visiting eating places that have been reviewed in the many periodicals he reads, and he suggested this one. It was nice enough; lovely friendly staff, and a pleasant atmosphere. But the dishes were so complicated that you needed a map and a book of instructions to find your way round them. What was this little trickle supposed to be? This tiny fragment? This colourful dot? Son's starter arrived in a wooden box, and had to be assembled in front of him, while he looked on, utterly bewildered. I can't remember what it was, but I know it involved a quail's egg.
Afterwards, he was scrupulously polite, and very sweet, but he did comment that "you just want your lunch, don't you?" (It reminds me of the occasion when his sister was stressing about a dinner party she was giving. "Daisy, people just want pie," he told her.)