There are fads and fashions in dining out as there are in many other fields of human experience. It will be interesting to see if the new trend taking off in metropolitan restaurants is just such a fad, or if it is something that will – once the fuss has died down – become a staple of the eating out experience.
World-famous TV Chef, Slash 'Chainsaw' Massacre, opened his latest restaurant last week. It lies just off the M42 in a quiet rural village. Housed in a converted abattoir, it still contains many of the original machines and devices used in its former role. However, now there is seating for up to 200 patrons, as well as a special function room catering for wedding parties and so forth.
Service is quick and efficient, although patrons should be aware that the restaurant itself is usually fully booked for up to 3 or 4 weeks in advance.
Once seated, diners receive a full menu replete with this season's currently fashionable dishes.
To start, I chose arm of geography teacher, served on a bed of shredded exercise books, garnished with the sauce made from slowly boiled school desks. My dining companion, however, had a much lighter starter of TV comedian’s toes barbecued over a hot TV set, served with a sauce made from the ink of rejected sitcom scripts, which she found very toothsome, if a little lacking in humour. My geography teacher, I found cooked to perfection with even the leather elbow patches from his jacket both soft and tender.
For the main course, I chose tender roast accountant pie with shredded VAT receipts. The crust of the pie, made from some of the finest hand-written invoices was light and fluffy, whilst the accountant itself was young and tender with the bitterness of the boiled calculator complimenting it all perfectly.
My dinner guest chose stir-fried media-studies graduate, whose tender un-worked flesh was served in a batter of media-industry delusion and served with a side-dish of TV programme ideas which she felt was somewhat over-boiled and lacking in any real worth.
For dessert, my companion choose the lightest of dishes, some whipped up politician’s promises served with the cream of focus group research, which she found both bland and, eventually, completely unsatisfying as it seem to consist mainly of hot air which vanished into nothingness, the further down the dish she ventured.
However, for dessert, I chose streamed TV talent show hopeful, served with what turned out to be a rather sickly over-sugared custard of sob story where the saltiness of the (fake?) tears did little to disguise the general sickliness of the whole experience. It was a somewhat disappointing end to what had – up until then - been a rather enjoyable evening.
The restaurant is recommended, proving that diners exercise some caution over their choice of dessert and do not mind the sound of chainsaws coming from the kitchen every now and then as the evening progresses.
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