Bad Restaurant Experience

In Search of Somewhere Different to Eat
I'm not sure whether I should be grumbling about feeling short-changed, after eating at a restaurant the other night. Many would be grumbling back at me saying 'lucky old you' as most of us are having to penny pinch at the moment. Nevertheless, husband and I decided to treat ourselves, and we went to a part of the city that we don't usually go, in search of somewhere that looked different and promising.

We opted for a hotel restaurant, new to us, it looked inviting, not too brightly lit, lots of fluttering candlelight, soft honey coloured walls, not too homey, just enough finesse to make it feel kind of special.

Doesn't Look Like What I Ordered
Our starters were not that good and so we were surprised that our main meals were served by the waitress with such a confident flourish as she set them triumphantly down. "There you go, enjoy!" She swooped off before I could ask her for a jug of tap-water.

When I looked down, what she had left before me was a huge white china plate and right in its centre was a small mound of ‘steaming’. About the size of a small tin of cat-food, and actually now I come to mention it, yeah, well - you get the picture. I looked across at my husband and his face was not a happy one. His meal looked a bit like mine except there were a few dark brown blobs, albeit artistically arranged, around his central mound of, er, ‘steaming’.

'Building the Dish'
He looked over at me and scowled. "You know who we have to thank for this don't you?" He said. I shook my head trying not to laugh, because I did know really, I just wanted husband to say it out loud because it winds him up and that's what makes me laugh. "It's that bloody Gary Rhodes and his bloody 'building the dish,' he's the one that started this stupid idea. I mean just look at this, this is meant to be pork and potatoes with courgettes and carrots, but everything is piled on top of everything and I can't bloody well see what's what, and whether I've got what I'm paying for, and by the size of it, I don't think I'm getting my money's worth. You couldn't feed a, a, ..." "Cat?" I said, "yeah a bloody cat, on this lump of, of, ..." "Cat-food?" "Yeah, bloody cat-food, and I'm not bloody paying for it."

So we didn't. We had the Matron D fawning over us and offering free champagne, but we don't like it. She thought that we were a strange pair not to like champagne but what about a free pudding? We don't eat puddings either we said, as we put on our coats.

Short-changed by 'Chef Art'
Neither of us really understand this habit that some chefs have of piling one thing on top of another. Is it a form of art, like chef art?

I can sort of compare it in as strange way to what my hairdresser does after he has cut my hair. He always has to finish off by blow-drying it into a great mushroom mound and then rubs and teases and twists it into a sculptural shape with wax. Then I go home and dunk it in a sink of water and let it dry naturally because that is what I really wanted.

In both cases we have artisans straining to become artists, however, both are providing a personal service and both have to eventually relinquish their 'creation'. The hair-style and the dinner are absorbed and must become integral to the client. The dinner even more so, at least a hair style for a small period of time may resemble something of the original intention.

Going back to the food thing though, thing about building the dish is that - aside from the scams where you cannot see exactly what you're getting- it denies the pleasure of deciding how to eat the different elements of the meal, how to mix and match the flavours according to personal taste. In my book that takes a lot of the pleasure away from the

eating experience and in future we will have to ask if the chef 'builds his dish’ to prevent further disappointment.

The hair picture is the artistic version of a short back and sides.