The waiter clambered out of the the stairwell for probably the twentieth time and I wondered aloud to the person next to me, the one that had had the perfectly pink rack of lamb with the pillarbox and the triple underscore of jus, why the million buck interior design hadn't run to a dumb waiter, that is, a mechanical elevator from the kitchen with a food dispensary at the upper level. The waiter must have been exhausted. All those plates.
A few more hours wound off the clock and then dessert came out. There were warm things involving sorbets and salads and consommes. I love the way today's chefs are calling sweet things by savoury names and vice-versa. Just like the way today's parents are naming their dogs Alexander, Charles and Kenneth and their children Sam, Jake and Max.
My dessert was redolent of chocolate and had the texture of a cloud. A nimbus cloud, I grant you, but still a cloud. I didn't eat it, I inhaled it. It was the best thing I never ate and I still don't know what it was. I missed coffee because by now we were doing Alice in Wonderland moves around the table and talking about as much sense. Have some wine, said the March Hare in an encouraging tone. No. It was the waiter, still selling the sauvignon blanc. I bought.
Then someone had the bright idea of doing rounds of tequila slammers. It was one of those moments that sounds like the best idea of the night at the time and the very worst in the morning.
The tequila came out in little science room beakers with graduation marks. My God! It really is a laboratory down there in the kitchen! I thought I was only kidding.
Speaking of tequila, there are no floral notes on the back palate. Or anywhere else.
*
We tipped the waiter generously. He's obviously in training to become a UN diplomat, maybe even a peacekeeper. A very fit one.
A few more hours wound off the clock and then dessert came out. There were warm things involving sorbets and salads and consommes. I love the way today's chefs are calling sweet things by savoury names and vice-versa. Just like the way today's parents are naming their dogs Alexander, Charles and Kenneth and their children Sam, Jake and Max.
My dessert was redolent of chocolate and had the texture of a cloud. A nimbus cloud, I grant you, but still a cloud. I didn't eat it, I inhaled it. It was the best thing I never ate and I still don't know what it was. I missed coffee because by now we were doing Alice in Wonderland moves around the table and talking about as much sense. Have some wine, said the March Hare in an encouraging tone. No. It was the waiter, still selling the sauvignon blanc. I bought.
Then someone had the bright idea of doing rounds of tequila slammers. It was one of those moments that sounds like the best idea of the night at the time and the very worst in the morning.
The tequila came out in little science room beakers with graduation marks. My God! It really is a laboratory down there in the kitchen! I thought I was only kidding.
Speaking of tequila, there are no floral notes on the back palate. Or anywhere else.
*
We tipped the waiter generously. He's obviously in training to become a UN diplomat, maybe even a peacekeeper. A very fit one.
I hate restaurants like that. Loved your account of the dinner, though. A suggestion: next holidays, YOU pick the restaurant!
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