It happened. G turned 30, thereby finally becoming officially old enough to justify his ownership of boat shoes and to excuse his tendency to waste half of most Saturdays watching Saturday Kitchen. I also had a birthday to celebrate - the last one of my twenties.
My birthday falls first, on one of the last days of October. Knowing my birthday would rightly be overshadowed by the big thirtieth a few days later, I didn't even try to complete. Instead, I decided this year to keep the celebrations simple but classy, and booked dinner for G and me at Pearl Restaurant. This is a smart restaurant in Holborn, London. It hasn't been awarded a Michelin star, but that fact always puzzled me. We last had dinner there about 18 months ago and that dinner was one of my most treasured memories of eating out in London. I remember each course (and the amuse-bouche) as being exquisite. Perhaps that was the mistake - thinking we could relive that dining experience. This time, I have to confess, Pearl just didn't live up to expectations. In fact, it was a disaster. The disaster was largley of my own making (misreading the menu and so ending up with a main meal incorporating meat, which I don't eat). But even that aside, the meal was just "good". And for the prices charged (which are of Michelin standard) it really should be "wonderful".
Learning from our mistake, on the day of G's birthday (a Wednesday) we decided to have a more relaxed dinner at one of our favourite London restaurants - the Galvin brothers' Cafe a Vin. This is a casual little French bistro, near G's work. Even though it is casual and well priced, the food packs a punch. In particular, my cep risotto was divine. To top off a near-perfect meal, the waitstaff managed to work out it was G's birthday. So when he ordered a chocolate tart for dessert, they brought it out on a plate spelling "happy birthday" in chocolate and with a lit candle in his tart. Even better, most of the kitchen staff came out, loudly singing happy birthday. It was well and truly beyond simply "good service".
Not one to let a 30th go without fuss, I also booked a rather flash meal and night's accommodation for us for the weekend. On Friday night, G and I headed up to Hartfordshire, to Brocket Hall for the night. This is a huge, sprawling estate with a Michelin starred restaurant, Auberge du lac.
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| The restaurant entrance |
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| The back of the restaurant - as you can see, it has a lovely view over the lake. |
At Auberge du lac we had anything but a casual meal - instead, we treated ourselves to the degustation with matching wines. The chef happily modified the degustation for me to substitute the meat courses for seafood courses, without making a fuss. Each dish was wonderful, so much so that I'm struggling to think of a favourite. At a push, I would have to say that the confeit of mackerel with an oyster and vegetables was my favourite. The feast of food and wine G and I had would have left us replete and well lubricated. However, to top it off, G managed to strike up a friendship with the sommelier (who initially mistook G as someone else in the wine business). The sommelier therefore took great delight in treating us to further, additional wines, and was excitedly opening bottles of very expensive wine so that he and G could have long wine-speak conversations about the qualities of the various bottles. The food and wine were both excellent and I am pleased to say that I now have a new favourite dining experience in the UK: the Auberge du lac. The staff even made a fuss of G's birthday, bringing out some chocolates on a plate on which the chef had written "happy birthday" in chocolate.
However, gluttony in such an extreme form always has repercussions, and although G and I only had to stumble a couple of hundred metres from the restaurant to our accommodation at Brocket Hall, it was a very hard walk. We probably should have given our stomachs a break the following day (Saturday), but unfortunately our accommodation included a full English breakfast in the morning. I am still not so far removed from the student mentality that I can turn down a free breakfast, even if I really don't need it.
The rest of Saturday saw us recovering from our marathon eating session, lazing about on the sofa and groaning about our full bellies. Eventually I managed to haul myself off the sofa to go for a run, but that was really just so I could wake myself up for the further festivities ahead. That night (last night) we were off to our local pub, to eat pizzas and drink wine with a group of friends in celebration (again) of G's birthday. And now, after properly celebrating our birthdays, I think I'm going to try to swear off wine and rich food for a while. Or at least until next weekend.
