Yesterday I went to Chutney’s, an all you can eat Indian vegetarian near Euston for £6.95. I ate physically all that I could manage to eat and 24 hours on I am still full.
Sometimes it is better to eat with finesse.
Another adventure from the weekend: on Saturday evening I went to Royal Festival Hall to catch the Press Photographer of the Year exhibition which finished yesterday. It was worth visiting; sorry you missed it.
While there, I happened upon a moustache competition, as part of Movemeber. It finished and I went back to the exhibition. Halfway through walking around I realised that I had lost my ear muffs. Figuring that I probably left them on a seat, I went back to the competition area. I spoke to a member of staff who shuffled me along as I was ruining their filming and informed me that another member of staff had indeed picked them up. He flagged down the other member of staff.
“Ear muffs,” he said, gesturing in my direction.
The other member of staff then reached out her hand to introduce herself to me, thinking that the first member of staff was introducing me and that my name was Ear Muffs.
“No, she’s the person that lost her [gestures] ear muffs. Who do you know that’s called Ear Muffs?!”
“With names today, you never know.”
I got my ear muffs back and laughter was had all around.
My mum booked a table at the Abode on 5th November, because nothing says fireworks like the “nicest restaurant in Canterbury”.
I remember I once had a trial shift at a cafe – which is now closed – on the Kings Mile. A cyclist stopped in the pouring rain and asked if there was a hotel nearby. They recommended The Abode and only The Abode. The most expensive hotel in town. To a cyclist. In the rain. I wonder where he ended up.
We went for the pre-theatre menu because it was cheaper than the usual menu.
The restaurant was smaller and less crowded than I had anticipated. The din of people reviewing their food to each other was abound. I also overheard some general theatre talk. No-one’s checking, you don’t actually have to be going to the theatre to get the deal, diners.
It wasn’t too noisy. Mother doesn’t like noise. She quite likes The Abode.
Pierre was the only of us to order bread. He is a cooking teacher and is often hard to please in restaurants. We went to my grandad’s last year post-Christmas and was not amused by the Pizza Hut that was ordered in. Maybe that’s not the best example of snobbery. And he still ate four slices.
We all ordered the salmon to start. It was cooked sous-vide, which, as Masterchef has taught me, is quite a lazy way to cook a fish.
“What is sous-vide?” asked Mother
“I think it’s when it’s vacuum sealed and then cooked in a bain-marie.” I replied.
“No, no, it is not that. I will have to ask for the recipe,” Pierre chimed in.
It tasted fine. I would rather have had regular smoked salmon as I still can’t get fully behind the texture of a sous-vide dish, and there could have been more flavour in it.
Mother and Pierre enjoyed it.
The waiter came and explained what sous-vide was. Pierre discussed buying a bain-marie and vac pac machine.
I ate some bread. The olive loaf was very tasty. Olive loaf is my favourite bread for now.
The main course came.
Mother and I both ordered the sea bass. I can seldom resist the sea bass. We also ordered a side of salad and some chili spiced broccoli. The broccoli was some of the blandest that I have ever tasted, and, at £4, some of the most expensive. Last time I went home we managed to get some broccoli for 25p from Waitrose. Who said bargains weren’t to be had at the supermarket du jour of the middle classes.
French stepdad had the steak which he enjoyed, though not as much as the starter.
The sea bass was passable.
It’s a shame when they use such nice ingredients, present it quite well, but really fail to deliver on flavour.
The water was nice.
Mother and Pierre ordered Petits Fours, and I ordered the peanut butter chocolate fondant. I’m really into peanut butter at the moment. Last week I began eating copious amounts right out of the jar because I’m a filthy glutton with no decorum.
By this point I was quite full, but soldiered on to finish my dessert, and some of the Petits Fours.
Mother asked by there were only three Petits Fours, and Pierre told her the French meaning of the word, which I cannot recall.
They looked very pretty. Here you can see that I ate half of each. I am still not won over by macarons – the texture and the flavour (too sweet) don’t really do it for me. Apparently you should have them in Paris if you are to have them at all, but I think I would always prefer ice cream. The brownie was good.
The bill came, and a comment card. Pierre asked for the recipe of the sous-vide salmon on the comment card. He is still waiting for that email.
After going to the Abode my coat belt went missing. Probably a coincidence, but maybe not.
Mother asked me what I thought. I said I preferred the Savoy. She said that I had expensive taste. I also prefer a whole number of restaurants. To name three: Dirty Burger, my local noodle bar Hikari, and my favourite restaurant, Young Cheng.
Taste trumps pomp.
5.5/10 – Mo’ money, mo’ problems.