When I'm excited I find it difficult to approach a topic without lathering my sentences in Eau de Cliche. I've left this one a good 18 hours in the hope of avoiding a teenage over-douse situation with little faith in the outcome.
I never thought I'd start a sentence with the statement....oh, god, see I'm off already. Now it appears is in fact time to call upon an Encyclopedia Britannica cornerstone and institute the emergency historical and linear format of vertical timeline to chart for you my existence over the past two days.
My visual mathematical failings are fiercely evident in this 'marshmallow' graph, intended to recognise the passing of time and events, not merely by minutes or hours alone, but by considering variants: Units of Gourmet Consumption; Number of Culinary Masters and Time Elapsed. This looks more reminiscent of a L'Oreal anti-aging campaign than anything else, so my 3-dimensional ambitions shall be restrained to the temporal basics.
Monday 10am - Meeting, Enotria. There's no water. Plenty of wine, no water. It's 10am.
Monday 1pm - Koffman's, The Berkley, Knightsbridge. Pierre is back heading the kitchen. I take it classic from the banquette: Spiced and roasted duck breast followed by a mousse-like tarte citron. Audrey Hepburn. Not really my style, but immediately recognisable as stylish and restrained.
Monday 4pm - Maze, London. Just a perfectly spritzy mineral water. Necessary. Well poured I guess you would say? Claws out, looks a little Spring '09.
Monday 6pm - Chez Moi, London. White Blazer defeats Logic in the canape function preliminary dressing rounds.
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| Photographed in case of loss |
Monday 7pm - The Guildhall, London. S.Pellegrino World's 50 Best Restaurant Awards. Oysters, Reggiano, Cliquot, Rene to the power of 50. Neon, horned helmets, horn rims...Look of the night, Varvary plus one.
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| Entering The Guildhall |
Monday 11pm - The Sanderson, London. No comment. No way my 9am meeting will be pain free. What is it with chefs and neon lit venues tonight?
[A rockstar awards ceremony does not a rockstar make. All staff of Chateaubraind, Noma, Momofuku and Quay were safely in bed studying their Man Bags of sponsored what-nots and biologically cataloging their latest foraged finds by midnight(*)]
Tuesday 8am - Chez Moi, London. Cocktails (1), White Blazer (0).
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| Chef's Lunch - Lasagne of Dorset crab and beurre Nantise, salad of pea shoots |
Tuesday 12pm - La Chapelle, London. World's 50 Best Chef's Lunch. Patrick Nourse, Australian Gourmet Traveller. Roasted pigs. Roasted pigeon. Food snob. Hob knob. Fergus. Chang. Arzak. Eleven Maddison Park. Mad Men. Many glasses. Coffee, well...I guess it can only help.
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| Chef's Lunch - Whole roasted squab pigeon, broad beans and smoked Rioja jus |
Tuesday 4pm - Brawn, Columbia Road. How have I not been here before? Natural wine with some natural talent. Brett Graham. Peter Gilmore. Thomas Blythe. Sun beams. Revealed Beams. Beaming.
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| Chef's Lunch - Chilled dark chocolate fondant, banana yoghurt ice cream ad honeycomb |
Tuesday 7pm - Dinner by Heston Blumenthal, Knightsbridge. C.1500, C.1720, C.1940, C.1810. Seriously thank you to Eric Ripert. Seriously looking forward to Le Bernardin.
Wednesday 12am - Food coma.
Wednesday 7am - Treadmill, Level 12, Fitness First.
Friday 2pm - New York City. Be kind, rewind, replay. Can't wait!
(*) Censorship and reinterpretation is an official communication technique exercisable by the author at will.
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