I’ve promised you the ultimate sacrifice: my dining experiences can become your dining experiences. But without the calories, expensive bill, babysitter to pay or 45 minutes on the phone trying to sort out a reservation! Lucky you! I was going to start by telling you about my trip to The Fat Duck.
But then my pal over at Modern Dilemma requested a trip to a Beefeaters or a Harvester for a Fancy opinion. I don’t know what those are. I had to look it up. My nearest Beefeater is in Ilford. I also don’t know where that is. What will it cost me to get a car service over there, have the driver wait, and then bring me home? I didn’t figure this into the equation. Never mind. I’m sure I’ll save enough at dinner to more than make up for it.
Okay, so checking it out online, let’s go for the wine list first. I’m sure I’ll be needing some booze to help soften the sting of pleather against my skin. Ooh! “Pinot Grigio, Italy!” I don’t know that label. Is that a Rothschild project? It must be really good if they can just claim total ownership of a grape. At least they can confirm a 12% alcohol content. That’s good. I’ll be needing that.
On to the food. I appreciate the breadth of the chef’s knowledge of world cuisine. Koftas, potato “shells,” baked Camembert, chimichurri sauce. Wow. I can go from the Middle East to the UK, and then connect in Paris on my way to Argentina. But that would mean I am flying Air France. Which I just can’t do. They have middle seats in business class.
Okay, focus. Grass fed beef! That’s a surprise. Good, good. Not sure that an “unmistakable, extra special Beefeater Grill taste” is a desirable thing, but what do I know? I’m confused, however, by the description of the steaks. Soft? Like a pillow? Do you mean tender? And what chef on God’s Green Earth would ever recommend a steak to be served well done? Christ, might as well just serve me up his shoe. But maybe it doesn’t matter, because I can choose from a myriad of sauces to accompany that “unmistakable” flavour. Blue cheese and jalapeno, mint and rum. What’s a girl to do?
Wait, what the hell is a Giant Chicken? Skewered, nonetheless. I understand Giant Prawn. But chicken?Is that some kind of horrible genetically modified poultry? I’m sorry, I’m out of here. Fancy needs to pay attention to what goes into her Fancy self. I need to find my driver. Oh, but I’ll be taking that bottle of Pinot Grigio with me. And a straw.
Can we go back to The Fat Duck, please?
