Well that was joyful and as they say these days “ resonated “.
However this level of behaviour is not confined to michelin restaurants!
A few years abgo in an absolutely delightful hotel in Berlin the owners franchised out the cafe to some very trendy baristas.
My wife ordered tea. A pot of mild warm water arrived with tea leaves on the side. It looked beautiful but was never going to produce a pot of tea of drinking quality.
She summoned a waiter and indicated this was not up to snuff. He went away and spoke to an owner who came over knelt down and explained why they served tea this way and why it was so important to respect the leaves. My wife responded pointing out that as she was British ( though actually Scottish and Glaswegian Scottish) she needed no lectures on how to make tea and that he should remove the offending item and bring back a pot with tea leaves onto which boiled but not boiling water were to be poured.
The surrounding Berliners applauded.
The owner scuttled off and returned with what was requested.
Sometimes Daisy it is not good to be so Southern English 😂. You should have stood your ground.
I relished your report, Daisy. Visions were conjured and cackled at, thank you.
In all seriousness though, I have a very fond culinary memory from Trieste that (goodness me) I appear to have clung to for some fifty years.
In April 1976, (then seventeen) I ate what still rates as the best pizza of my life there. In my memory it was a narrow but cavernous space built from stone, with an enormous stone oven in which the pizzas cooked in mere minutes. Enthusiastic locals played cards at the next table. The wine (red) came in an unidentified bottle. I recall a wafer-thin crispy base piled with ham, artichokes, some cheese and (for good measure) an egg cracked into it all. The white was set and the yolk quivering on the edge of solidity (ie perfect). Someone garnished it with freshly ground pepper on the way to the table. I still dream of that meal from time to time.
Very well said. Try Michelin starred Osio outside Bruton in Somerset where Merlin (male chef) is the king of the kitchen. His food wizardry is fantastic. However you are entering into his sphere and have to dispense your own reality to the one he creates. As long as you let him perform his magic it is a wonderful experience. But I also know a whole heap of women whose wizardry in the kitchen is wonderful, without praise, a Michelin recognition or sometimes even a gold star from their children. So much about the Michelin kitchen is about performance, a piece of theatre. In the case of many mothers I would rate them at three stars.
I don’t like wine that tastes like diesel either – Riesling, I’m talking to you – but I’m not sure you’ve quite got the hang of a tasting menu. Honestly, you just need to go with the flow and appreciate the choices that have been carefully made for you however cockeyed you might consider them to be. There’s a time and a place for free will – like about 99% of the time and about 99% of places – but the tasting menu in a fancy restaurant probably isn’t it.
It was the arrogance of the enterprise. I don’t mind having no choice if I feel the menu has been designed for the diner. But this was an ego trip without charm or crucially deliciousness
If you ever return to Trieste, Daisy, I can heartily recommend dining at Nettare Divino instead which serves sublime food for far less than it should. Excellent wine list too.
In the age of emperors, it seems we inevitably have to contend with the pervasive syndrome of the emperor’s not wearing any clothes. Thank you Daisy or being a voice that has shouted out.
Well that was joyful and as they say these days “ resonated “.
However this level of behaviour is not confined to michelin restaurants!
A few years abgo in an absolutely delightful hotel in Berlin the owners franchised out the cafe to some very trendy baristas.
My wife ordered tea. A pot of mild warm water arrived with tea leaves on the side. It looked beautiful but was never going to produce a pot of tea of drinking quality.
She summoned a waiter and indicated this was not up to snuff. He went away and spoke to an owner who came over knelt down and explained why they served tea this way and why it was so important to respect the leaves. My wife responded pointing out that as she was British ( though actually Scottish and Glaswegian Scottish) she needed no lectures on how to make tea and that he should remove the offending item and bring back a pot with tea leaves onto which boiled but not boiling water were to be poured.
The surrounding Berliners applauded.
The owner scuttled off and returned with what was requested.
Sometimes Daisy it is not good to be so Southern English 😂. You should have stood your ground.
I'm so glad you went so I don't ever have to. Thank you!
I relished your report, Daisy. Visions were conjured and cackled at, thank you.
In all seriousness though, I have a very fond culinary memory from Trieste that (goodness me) I appear to have clung to for some fifty years.
In April 1976, (then seventeen) I ate what still rates as the best pizza of my life there. In my memory it was a narrow but cavernous space built from stone, with an enormous stone oven in which the pizzas cooked in mere minutes. Enthusiastic locals played cards at the next table. The wine (red) came in an unidentified bottle. I recall a wafer-thin crispy base piled with ham, artichokes, some cheese and (for good measure) an egg cracked into it all. The white was set and the yolk quivering on the edge of solidity (ie perfect). Someone garnished it with freshly ground pepper on the way to the table. I still dream of that meal from time to time.
Very well said. Try Michelin starred Osio outside Bruton in Somerset where Merlin (male chef) is the king of the kitchen. His food wizardry is fantastic. However you are entering into his sphere and have to dispense your own reality to the one he creates. As long as you let him perform his magic it is a wonderful experience. But I also know a whole heap of women whose wizardry in the kitchen is wonderful, without praise, a Michelin recognition or sometimes even a gold star from their children. So much about the Michelin kitchen is about performance, a piece of theatre. In the case of many mothers I would rate them at three stars.
Please name and shame the restaurant! And you should have gone to Gorillaz, they’re an unforgettable experience for different and better reasons!
They should have tried to feed a night shift in the Steelworks. If it didn't go with chips it wasn't real food.
This reminds me of the film The Menu with Ralph Fiennes 😆 I saw Gorillaz at an indoor concert in Dublin some years ago. Brilliant gig.
I don’t like wine that tastes like diesel either – Riesling, I’m talking to you – but I’m not sure you’ve quite got the hang of a tasting menu. Honestly, you just need to go with the flow and appreciate the choices that have been carefully made for you however cockeyed you might consider them to be. There’s a time and a place for free will – like about 99% of the time and about 99% of places – but the tasting menu in a fancy restaurant probably isn’t it.
It was the arrogance of the enterprise. I don’t mind having no choice if I feel the menu has been designed for the diner. But this was an ego trip without charm or crucially deliciousness
If you ever return to Trieste, Daisy, I can heartily recommend dining at Nettare Divino instead which serves sublime food for far less than it should. Excellent wine list too.
Well, your gustatory experience made me laugh, Daisy, so cheers to that!
I so sympathise. And you want to shout it is my palate, my stomach and my wallet. And all of them are outraged. Thank you for making it funny.
In the age of emperors, it seems we inevitably have to contend with the pervasive syndrome of the emperor’s not wearing any clothes. Thank you Daisy or being a voice that has shouted out.