Graham ordered a tasting menu. Before each tiny course, the chef came out to explain where he had found the idea.
By the third course, Graham had heard about two holidays and the chef’s childhood.
When the chef began another story, Graham asked the waiter for a takeaway box….
Graham had skipped lunch because his daughter had booked him a special dinner.
There would be seven courses. That sounded safe. Even if he disliked two, he would still have five.
The first arrived on a large stone plate. In the middle sat one small tomato.
Before Graham could pick up his fork, the chef appeared.
This tomato, he explained, had been inspired by a summer at his grandmother’s house.
Graham listened to the story about the garden. Then the kitchen. Then the neighbour who had supplied the seeds.
His daughter smiled politely. Graham checked whether the bread was another course.
The second plate held a spoonful of fish.
The chef returned to describe a fishing holiday.
Graham learned about the boat, the weather and a man called Paolo. He knew more about Paolo than he knew about the fish.
The third course was a mushroom.
Graham reached for it.
The chef raised a finger. First, there was something he needed to understand about a forest.
Graham put down his fork.
His daughter whispered that the meal was an experience.
So was waiting for a bus, Graham whispered back, but they usually let you eat a sandwich.
The chef was still describing the forest when Graham caught the waiter’s eye and asked for a takeaway box.
The waiter looked at the mushroom.
You haven’t touched it, sir. Would you like me to pack the food?
No. Pack his childhood. I’ll read it after dinner.
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