A lighter note
Discussion
As I couldn't find a bad food/ pub/ restuarant guide or thread....
Memebers who frequent other boards may be familiar with my recent eurotunnel woes, but here is a story from my last night in France.
On arriving at Hotel Cottage, late one night on the outskirts of Calais, I was pleasantly surprised to see an in hotel restaurant. With blackboard adorned with some interesting choices, Sea Bass with fennel sauce caught my eye.
The main came with a buffet salad starter and dessert. On receiving my plate I wandered up to the buffet. It was heavily depleted bar some of the slightly more intriguing concoctions, couscous pasta salads. I rationed these had been left due to the uncertainty of content.
Not all that hungry I opted for more straight forward artichokes, tomatoes, grated carrot and beetroot. All of which were past their best in particular the tomatoes which had the consistency of sodden Styrofoam coated in a skin of wallpaper, with total absence of flavour. In my head I blamed the lights over the salad bar the fact it was late. This wasn’t particularly important as I wasn’t that hungry and I had glimpsed what was on offer for dessert!!
The waitress came and removed my half eaten surrealist type salad, with the sort of knowing smile that said you’ve seen dessert. I would later reflect on this.
She returned with my main. I had asked for no potatoes, having spent the last few days in Belgium and eaten more than my fair share of chips. Seemingly provoked the chef had piled abundance, in quantity if no variety, of vegetables on the plate. Undeterred from the slightly odd looking plate, I observed the sauce pale, with some traces of herbs and maybe an artistic line of paprika. I couldn’t smell the distinct note of fennel, which pleased and intrigued me.
I opted first for some carrots, two slices, speared with my fork. On attempting to eat them, they exhibited a characteristic I can best describe as, bent. I chuckled with my partner that they were probably left over from earlier and had been microwaved.
Having saved my self the pleasure of the sea bass, I gathered some on my fork, added a little more sauce. Imagine my surprise when I experienced no flavour, no hint of the at least three flavours I was expecting. It got worse the consistency evaded any form of description. My partner who had been largely spared this horror, bar the few bits of salad I insist she try, as she was not eating asked me to describe it. Bewildered and perhaps still in shock I had more. The shock or adrenaline was gone, I was this time revolted by the presence of the fish and sauce in my mouth. There was still no flavour present but now that I was examining the consistency with more vigour I was appalled. Imagine if you will, cotton wool without the binding structure of the fibres, soaked in a now thankfully bland liquid.
Despite this being the worst food I have ever been served, I was anxious of complaining. Perhaps for fear of what tortures the replacement might bring, the fact that I was abroad with little linguistic skills or most likely I’m not a fussy person. I need not have worried. Having, given up on waiting for the waitress to check on me. I, with the encouragement from my other half took matters in to my own hands. I approached the waitress near the bar and informed her I was unhappy with the meal and as such was unprepared to pay for it. Ok she responded. Ok? All this culminated in Ok. I was needless to say relieved but mystified by the response.
In a bizarre twist of events, I had the whole incident re-sighted to me on check out. I’d had the meal, I had a problem with it and therefor didn’t pay. Why I’m still unsure…..
Memebers who frequent other boards may be familiar with my recent eurotunnel woes, but here is a story from my last night in France.
On arriving at Hotel Cottage, late one night on the outskirts of Calais, I was pleasantly surprised to see an in hotel restaurant. With blackboard adorned with some interesting choices, Sea Bass with fennel sauce caught my eye.
The main came with a buffet salad starter and dessert. On receiving my plate I wandered up to the buffet. It was heavily depleted bar some of the slightly more intriguing concoctions, couscous pasta salads. I rationed these had been left due to the uncertainty of content.
Not all that hungry I opted for more straight forward artichokes, tomatoes, grated carrot and beetroot. All of which were past their best in particular the tomatoes which had the consistency of sodden Styrofoam coated in a skin of wallpaper, with total absence of flavour. In my head I blamed the lights over the salad bar the fact it was late. This wasn’t particularly important as I wasn’t that hungry and I had glimpsed what was on offer for dessert!!
The waitress came and removed my half eaten surrealist type salad, with the sort of knowing smile that said you’ve seen dessert. I would later reflect on this.
She returned with my main. I had asked for no potatoes, having spent the last few days in Belgium and eaten more than my fair share of chips. Seemingly provoked the chef had piled abundance, in quantity if no variety, of vegetables on the plate. Undeterred from the slightly odd looking plate, I observed the sauce pale, with some traces of herbs and maybe an artistic line of paprika. I couldn’t smell the distinct note of fennel, which pleased and intrigued me.
I opted first for some carrots, two slices, speared with my fork. On attempting to eat them, they exhibited a characteristic I can best describe as, bent. I chuckled with my partner that they were probably left over from earlier and had been microwaved.
Having saved my self the pleasure of the sea bass, I gathered some on my fork, added a little more sauce. Imagine my surprise when I experienced no flavour, no hint of the at least three flavours I was expecting. It got worse the consistency evaded any form of description. My partner who had been largely spared this horror, bar the few bits of salad I insist she try, as she was not eating asked me to describe it. Bewildered and perhaps still in shock I had more. The shock or adrenaline was gone, I was this time revolted by the presence of the fish and sauce in my mouth. There was still no flavour present but now that I was examining the consistency with more vigour I was appalled. Imagine if you will, cotton wool without the binding structure of the fibres, soaked in a now thankfully bland liquid.
Despite this being the worst food I have ever been served, I was anxious of complaining. Perhaps for fear of what tortures the replacement might bring, the fact that I was abroad with little linguistic skills or most likely I’m not a fussy person. I need not have worried. Having, given up on waiting for the waitress to check on me. I, with the encouragement from my other half took matters in to my own hands. I approached the waitress near the bar and informed her I was unhappy with the meal and as such was unprepared to pay for it. Ok she responded. Ok? All this culminated in Ok. I was needless to say relieved but mystified by the response.
In a bizarre twist of events, I had the whole incident re-sighted to me on check out. I’d had the meal, I had a problem with it and therefor didn’t pay. Why I’m still unsure…..
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