For quite a while now, various friends have been telling me words to the effect of ‘Bill, you’re a bit of a foodie, you enjoy writing. Have you ever thought about making a food blog?’
Now, those who know me well, know the ‘bit of a foodie’ thing is quite the understatement – I live and breathe the stuff! There isn’t much to learn about food I don’t know already. Here is the third in a series of restaurant reviews, written by me. Tuck in!
‘…can I also have one those yellow, lottery scratch-cards?’ I pointed, ‘That two pound one.’
‘This one?’
‘No, the one below.’ I was still pointing, ‘The yellow one. Number eight.’
‘This one? How many?’
‘Just one, please.’
She scanned its barcode with a beep.
‘With the cigarettes, that’s six pounds forty altogether, my love.’
‘Thanks.’ I said, handing the tobacco counter cashier a twenty pound note, ‘Keep the change!’
I put the cigarettes into the carrier bag containing the slice of chocolate cake I’d brought with me from home. I tucked the scratch-card into my tuxedo top pocket. ‘I’ll save that for later,’ I thought as I strode towards the exit of the small Park Lane supermarket. ‘Lady Luck must wait, I have a review to do!’
Sorry readers, I should fill you in.
Just over a week ago I received news of the very best kind. It left me feeling exactly how the residents of Troy must’ve felt upon learning they were to be bestowed their famous Trojan Horse . Except, for the purpose of this analogy, you’ll have to imagine the horse delivered to them had been made from solid wood and thus served purely as a magnificent gift.
That day had started like any other. I’d been in bed, waking up slowly – laptop on chest, blearily going through all my emails when, amidst the barrage of usual offers, promotions and other junk, I saw a heading that made me almost spill my cup of tea on the sheets:
‘Mayfair Dining Experience, with Champagne Cocktails for Two – was £115, now £55, save 52%’
It had been sent to me by Amazon Local. How did they know I was a foodie? Who’d passed on my email address? Maybe they’d gotten it from my blog? So many questions. Whatever the answers, I was flattered Amazon, one of the largest companies in world, had clearly regarded my work enough to get in contact with me.
Without hesitation I clicked on the link. Opportunities of this kind don’t come along very often, and there was no way I was letting this one pass me by. It said the deal closed in sixteen days so I RSPV’d instantly, thanking them and confirming my invite. It transpired the dining experience was to be held at The Grill – part of a hotel called Flemings Mayfair. I also learned, reading the rest of the email, The Grill had, in its time, been awarded two AA rosettes.
Now let me make this clear. Dining in Mayfair is the ‘foodie’ equivalent of playing football at Wembley (or if you prefer racquet sports, tennis at Wimbledon) – it’s the real deal. To top all that, the offer included a glass of champagne, which is a sparking wine produced in the Champagne region of France – take it from me, it’s the height of luxury and tastes lovely. The pressure was on! In just over a week’s time I would be required to ‘step up to the plate,’ both literally and otherwise.
I exited the small, Park Lane supermarket and went out blinking into the April sunshine. The Amazon terms and conditions stated the offer was only valid from five thirty pm to ten pm on weekday evenings. Looking at my watch I realised I only had to wait eight more minutes. I’d been studying the menu online all week since I’d booked the voucher and was raring to go.
I got to the hotel entrance at five-thirty pm on the dot! The building was a huge, elegant, Georgian affair: symmetrical front, rows of tall windows with wrought-iron railings and neat brickwork – all typical features of the period. At the entrance I met a fantastically dapper doorman on duty and felt glad I had dressed ‘in keeping’, sporting my hired tuxedo.
‘Hi, I’m here for the Amazon Mayfair Dining Experience.’ I said proudly to the top-hatted doorman.
He didn’t seem to know what I meant but gestured me in and told me to speak to somebody at the reception.
I stepped into the lobby and was immediately lost for words. The combination of the stunning polished marble floors, gleaming gold lamps, mahogany bookcase stacked with old books, huge glass antique cabinets (themselves both filled with antiques), grandfather clock, and mounted antlers had left me awestruck.
As a foodie I’ve visited a lot of establishments in my time, but this was something else. I stood open mouthed, just soaking it all in. I almost had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
‘Hi, I’m here for the Amazon Mayfair Dining Experience. I have my invite letter.’ I said to a bespectacled man sitting at the front desk. I was starting to feel nervous. I produced the letter from the carrier bag containing my cake. I’d printed it out – it confirmed I had reserved a place in the restaurant. I handed it over the counter to him.
‘That’s for The Grill. A voucher.’ he said after carefully examining the piece of paper, ‘Its just down the hall and through the arch on your left.’
‘Thank you.’
I followed his instructions and upon reaching a wooden sign that read ‘PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED’ was greeted by an immaculate, moustached host. The host made the move for what I thought was to be an informal, welcome-hug.
‘Yeah, good to see you!’ I said, clutching him in a robust, half-embrace and realising at once he’d actually been reaching for one of a stack of menus just behind me. Thankfully the hug had only lasted a matter of seconds, and I prayed he hadn’t noticed, as he showed me to my seat.
‘I’ll have the chicken Caesar to start with.’ I said to him, as he walked me to the table.
‘Let me leave you with the menu. I’ll send the waitress over to take your order.’
‘Indeed. Good things come to those who wait!’
She arrived – a petite blonde – with pen and notepad, ten minutes later. I put in the official request for my chicken Caesar and opted for slow cooked belly of lamb, creamy mashed potato and tarragon jus (actually pronounced ziew) for main course. I also ordered a large glass of rosé to drink.
The wine reached me cold and delicious. At home I like making my own rosé the connoisseur’s way by combining equal parts red and white wine. When dining out, for the sake of ease, I generally order it premixed. With regards to pairing with food, rosé is a wise bet; it goes with all meat types due to its ambiguity. I gulped the drink down and immediately felt the regained poise and self-confidence that alcohol brings with its use. It was at this point I suddenly remembered that I really don’t like the taste of tarragon.
I signalled for the waitress to come back over.
‘Excuse me, I’m supposed to have a glass of champagne that comes as part of my Amazon dining experience. My letter says so. Can I have it now, please?’
She explained to that it was actually a champagne cocktail (even better!) and fetched it for me. Whilst sipping the lovely wine and orange juice concoction, I took a look around the hotel restaurant. It was already filling up with eager diners – a good sign.
Before not very long I was introduced to my chicken Caesar. For those of you who haven’t tried a chicken Caesar before, it is basically a salad that is supplemented with chicken and the novel addition of croutons (typically found only in soup). It’s a dish with Italian origins dating all the way back to ancient times and, as you’ve probably guessed, was the favourite of a certain famous Roman dictator. I’ve never had a bad one, and with it being a salad, it also has the benefit of being healthy, as long as you don’t over-do it with the dressing.
I dived in and carried out the all-important taste test. It passed with flying colours. Absolutely delicious! A number of the leaves were very wilted and brown but not to the point of being inedible. It could also have benefitted with a little extra in the crouton department, but the overall verdict – very lovely indeed.
I ordered more rosé – a bottle this time – to continue with proceedings and rose a toast to Bacchus, the Roman god of wine and fertility.
After a considerable wait I spotted a service-trolley on the horizon of the room, laden with what I hoped to be my main course. As it trundled, gently rattling, towards me I felt a sense of relief akin to that of the British Navy, when Drake’s ships hove into view to fight off the Armada. With well-practiced skill the waitress parked-up expertly close to my table.
‘Nice driving. Does it have AA coverage?’ I joked of her trolley, in reference to the restaurant’s two rosettes. ‘Is she sea worthy?’ I added, referring to the thought I’d had about the Armada.
My food was set down before me, covered with one of those special, silver, dome lids. The waitress removed it at the very last moment to reveal, in a brief haze of steam, the finest looking piece of lamb I have ever set my eyes upon. Everything in me longed to tell somebody about it, but I didn’t know who to text.
‘This looks amazing. Thank you so much!’ I said, close to welling up. I requested another bottle of rosé before she went.
‘Bon appetite!’ she smiled.
‘Bon voyage!’ I waved.
With the serrated knife considerately supplied, I set about cutting into the meat. Piping hot, tender and rare – it was seared to an an angry brown on the outside, yet was still a vivid pink at the centre. I’m sure all of you have tried lamb at some point, so I won’t insult you with a flavour description. I’ll just say that this truly was the most delicious example I have ever had the privilege of eating. It was served with mashed potato (think boiled potatoes, puréed and you’re pretty much there) and some seasonal vegetables. It really was a lovely combination and I ate it all. My only criticism would be of the tarragon in the jus – its smell alone sickens me to my core.
After the empty wine bottles, cutlery and chinaware from my main course were cleared away I was offered a chance to peruse the dessert menu.
‘I don’t need a desert. Could I just have a filter coffee and a small plate, please?’
I had the coffee with my delicious, homemade, dark chocolate and hazelnut cake – very rich and a real treat. It was the perfect conclusion to a ‘once in a lifetime’ dining experience.
My only grievance with the whole night, aside from the tarragon, was with the automatic inclusion of a twelve point five percent service charge onto my bill. I complained bitterly for them to take it off, and eventually they did, but not without quite an unnecessary scene taking place. The host was totally fine about it afterwards, however, and I will definitely be returning, with friends next time, before the year is out.
Thank you Mayfair for an incredible night! Home in South London beckoned.
Billy Brown 
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