Is it me, or is the Fat Duck ‘food poisoning’ story starting to sound like mass hysteria? Hell, I’d still go.
He really needs to write a cookbook. Seriously:
Open a bottle of beer. Not fucking Budweiser or Labatts – a proper beer, damnit. During this experiment, I used the outstanding Black Adder ale from Mauldons. A good bitter, an ale, an IPA – a proper fucking beer, you know what I mean. Pour some down your throat. Now pour some in the tinfoil. A mouthful or so. Spit your mouthful out into the pocket if you’d like. I mean, it’d be disgusting, but the person you’re cooking for will never know, right? Close up the pocket, so you now have a sealed tinfoil bag full of a head of garlic and (possibly regurgitated) beer.
Sling it in the oven. Your oven is set to 190 degrees C, which is 375F or Gas mark 5. It’s going to be in there for an hour. Have some more beer. Swallow it this time, you freak.
for the food. This was the dessert, apparently an elderflower and lemon balm parfait and a gooseberry er.. goo :) Tasted like very expensive mango kulfi to be honest.
The next night we went to the Circus restaurant, where I seem to remember having crab, followed by lamb (for the first time in months) and Eton mess.
…in Bath. I did take a fair few pics with the proper camera, but as usual I documented food with the mobile. I like to remember meals I’ve spent a fair bit of dosh on :) The meal was in the Olive Tree, the restaurant attached to the Queensberry Hotel – very posh, we were staying there as an present from Catrin’s parents.
Anyway, this was the starter – salmon in sloe berry and fennel vodka! Before that was a little appetizer in the form of a cup of beautiful butternut squash soup, too.