JonnyB’s holiday snaps – #2 in a series of 3.
For reasons of convenience, we remained at the hotel for dinner. Thus contravening the number one rule of fine dining – never, ever, ever eat in an establishment with the word ‘Hotel’ in its title.
And so we found ourselves perched awkwardly on a sofa at the edge of the dining area, tepid G&Ts in our hands.
The waitress was, I guess, the owner’s daughter. Mid-teens. Cheerfully informal, likeable, a bit scatty, probably wouldn’t last long with Gordon Ramsay.
“Would you like some wine with your dinner?”
We would, indeed, like some wine with our dinner.
“What would you like?”
I was a bit nonplussed. “What have you got?”
This was a tricky one. She desperately agonised for a few seconds. Waves of deep thought permeated across her confused face, as if I had offered her five grand and backstage passes for Busted in return for anal.
“Well… do you prefer red, or white?”
Ah. A binary choice. Probably white, we agreed. She brightened. “Oh good, we’ve got some Jacob’s Creek.”
I smiled and glanced across the room. Wine by the bottle was clearly an unnecessary extravagance to most of the diners, half of whom looked as if they’d be needing their food mashing up before service.
Wine by the glass is not my bag.
I don’t order my dinner by the forkful, I don’t order my wine by the glass.
Elgar celloed enthusiastically across the room.
And yes, ‘fruit juice’ was one of the options for a starter. It really was.
I’d love to continue being oh-so-superior-this-is-desperately-provincial-compared-to-Norfolk. I get so little opportunity. But you see…
The food was fucking excellent. Unbelievably so. Beautifully seasoned, well presented, prepared with fresh ingredients. Which wiped the smile off my smug face.
I ploughed my way through the cheeseboard, before we tripped off upstairs to watch the football.
Man, I am such a hot date.