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Thursday 20 November 2008

G-astronomic

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Fancy restaurants aren't my thing, to be honest.  Kettner's is still my idea of swank, and the only time I've ever set foot in a ridiculously expensive, Michelin-starred restaurant, my host's wife spent the evening throwing up in the toilets after partaking of the sea-food. The waiters, naturally, made no effort to help or to check if we had a problem, and we were too intimidated to complain. I'm sure food writer Jay Rayner wouldn't have stood for that:

I check out the wine list, which is full of big-name wines at bizarre prices. For example, there is a 1961 Chateau Latour. It’s listed at $8,416…I call over the sommelier. “We just mark up everything 300 percent,” he says, with a “What are you going to do about it? look on his face….

I want to punch him. By now, I want to punch a lot of people. Mostly I want to punch the other customers, not just for being stupid enough to eat here—and on a Wednesday night, the place is packed—but simply because of who they are. I survey the room and not for the first time I find myself wondering gloomily about the types who go to expensive restaurants, and whether I too might be one of them.