Tag Archives: the fat duck
“Do you care for any vodka with that?”
Orange juice — I had asked the flight attendant for some orange juice. But despite the convincing case Kendrick Lamar made in my earbuds, I felt inclined not to drank. I was at cruising altitude, trekking 1,800 miles in order to feed myself. And now I was thinking, about expectations and about managing them.
I saw the booze as a specious salve for the jittery nerves engendered by a delayed, overbooked flight. But for my neighbor — embittered towards American Airlines and pawing the arm rest like a caged tiger — alcohol was exactly the tranquilizer he needed. In fact, it was precisely what he expected. “Finally, some service around here,” he grumbled with a half-convincing smile. (For several more minutes, he continued to paw.) Continue reading
The last time I ate out of necessity was in 1985. I was six months old at the time, breast-feeding, and as yet unable to reach the refrigerator door handle. I eat for pleasure now, which is to say I eat incessantly. Hell, I’m having trouble typing this sentence because I’m eating right now.
It certainly wasn’t out of necessity that I went to the Fat Duck. For a reasonable person, the prior day’s feasting might’ve warranted an extended fast. But for me, fun trumps reason. And fun is exactly what I found in Chef Heston Blumenthal’s tasting menu… which may or may not have changed since 1985. (As you’ll recall, I was six months old at the time.) Continue reading