Contrary to what we might have expected, children are welcome in this luxurious dining room - paper and crayons are provided, there is an interesting and varied childrens menu, and the staff treat the little ones with the respect they deserve. The adults fare just as well. The surroundings are comfortable and soothing, the tables are large with lots of space between them, and the menu is certainly extensive to the waistline. Wine Goose has spend most of her adult life counting calories and each time she dines out she is struck by how blatantly these places flout the guidelines constantly being drilled into us by health experts.
Mr R orders himself a vodka and tonic, which leaves Wine Goose in no doubt that she is designated driver for the return journey. The wine list here regularly features in 'best restaurant wine list' top 10s, and with her recently learnt knowledge Wine Goose recognises that it is indeed well chosen, with a wide-ranging selection of fine wines to suit most fat wallets. Our Bank Manager would thank us for travelling by car. We settle on a half bottle of Chateau de Pez 2000, a relative bargain at €48.00. My reasoning here is that 2000 was a very good year for Bordeaux wines, and Saint-Estephe is considered a good match for the rack of lamb I have already mentally chosen as my main course.
We are to select our starters from the 'tasting station'. I have already consulted the list of what's on offer and decided on a few carefully chosen morsels, but as I undertake the journey from our table, a journey of no more than twenty seconds, the numskulls get out their little hammers and start tapping away at the food control section of my brain. These are the creatures I manage to keep under control about 90% of the time. In return they occasionally force me to eat a loaf of fresh bread or the entire contents of the treat box in a single sitting. Subliminal whispers along the lines of 'it makes no difference if you eat a lot of a little, you still can't shift the weight; surely it's okay to break out from time to time, and it would be a pity not to enjoy such lovely food', mean that I make the return journey with a plate piled high with one of everything from the large selection on offer.
Mr R's sirloin of beef, cooked rare on his instruction, looks like something you would throw to a lion to buy yourself some time, if you were to ever find yourself in such a threatening situation. I decline his offer of a taste but do try the mash, which has dominant flavours of butter and cream, with just the smallest hint of potato. My own rack of lamb, cooked medium, is delicious. The children make short work of the chicken fingers with fries - nuggets and chips by any other name.
The dessert tasting plate, which the waiter descibes as a selection of five small desserts is in fact made up of five full-sized full-fat chocolate offerings of differing shapes. Wine Goose once heard that is a sign of good manners not to polish off the entire contents of your meal, but to leave a small amount on the side of your plate. This apparently indicates that you have thoroughly enjoyed your food, and have been served an adequate sufficiency. This is exactly what I do. A piece of dark chocolate, no bigger than a grain of rice is cleared by the ever efficient wait staff.
By my calculations ten thousand calories would not be an exaggeration. To burn this off I have a number of options. I can walk briskly for 40 hours, take a 30 hour spinning class or play a singles tennis match for 20 hours. The bill arrives and provides the solution - we can't afford to eat for a week.
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