oldschooltie

proper restaurants should be prepared to be judged on everything that they provide to their customers. 50% off deals should apply to the price, not the quality.

I've liked everything that I've eaten there. Only been the The Ivy once. couldn't really see what the fuss is/was about. (might have a more positive view if I'd been lucky enough to meet Michael Winner)

had an excellent meal here this week; conception, content and execution very high level. was impressed by the service, which dealt with change of table (Mrs O had forgotten her ear trumpet, so needed to be further away from the sound of the piano in the bar) and balancing the delivery of tasting menus to tables of 2, 4 or 6 with a mass influx of a party of about 20 all starting dinner at 8. wine/water filling OK by my standards. good to hear wine list being revamped. we had a good guado al tasso vermentino 2002 to start, followed by 2001 beaune greves from bernard morey, but I felt that there could have been more in the £35 -£50 range from classic french regions and a better representation of french country wines. generally thought the prices fair throughout the list. agree with moby about lighting.

has there ever been an egullet "themed dinner"? I like this place and the decor could make it the perfect venue for a "Rat Pack Reunion" (bagsy I'm Dean Martin)

went about a month ago. Food was superb, wines pretty good, service for the most part good. Shame that the place is, to my tastes, quite bizarre and - although it shouldn't affect the enjoyment of the food - it does. Place was pretty empty and had a slightly desparate feel about it. Real talent, but I think will struggle in that location.

I take it all back - clear proof that there is a magnificent british culinary tradition after all. Just look at those lovely red tomatoes (one has even been sliced in half - rather artistically), the baked ham looks nice and I think that there may even be a lettuce on display. With a beautiful apple and cheese (could it be stilton?) to finish, food fit for a king

clearly, nostalgia isn't what it used to be. Having grown up as a poor boy in the badlands of West London, I think that I must have missed out on the glories that were English cuisine in the 1960's and 1970's. Remind me of our top 10 crowning glories that make our current culinary environment so barren

...and very handy for Racine is my gym (Aquilla) almost nextdoor to work off that boozy lunch ;-) Great review, have to agree with you on your summing up. A wonderful antedote to the toursit traps of the area. I hadn't ever really thought too much about the age of the clientele, but in retrospect you're right. Cheers, Howard anyone up for an egullet meal at Racine? not sure how the logistics would work (room at the back isn't exactly wonderful), but could finish by watching Howard work (some of) it off in the gym. Or join in. Or maybe not.

but in return we've got tobacco, turkey and potatoes (not to mention freedom from wmd's)

just imagine what they would have looked like if all of the facts had been correct (and that's only from reading the excerpt)

no-one, that's why viewing figures are going through the floor (despite all the well worn "shock" developments that are engineered by the programme makers). does anyone seriously think that there is any prospect of genuine "conflict or drama" with that crowd (no matter how often Gordon says "fuck")?

given the top drawer people who get to appear on this gem of a programme, who could possibly disagree?

An insight into the character of one of the (former) participants in this magnificent production "Tommy Vance is a cretin of the highest order, I am sad to report. I have had numerous dealings and run ins with the gravely throated voice of rock radio throughout my career as a reporter of ugly truths and strange facts, and none have been particularly pretty, but I always retained a strange respect for the man. "If any of you lot get this one I will walk out," grunts Vance, before asking from which song came the following: "Oh baby, baby The reason I breathe is you Boy you got me blinded Oh pretty baby There's nothing that I wouldn't do" Well, you know that don't you? When answer time arrived, he took the opportunity to express his disgust at the inclusion of a blatantly "non-rock" question. It was around this point that some violently orange-skinned peroxide woman in white took to the stage and whispered in Tommy's ear. "This lovely young lady wants to show you her treasures," he growled, happily. "Since this is a rock 'n' roll event. Rock 'n' Roll!" He beamed, triumphantly, glad that his chosen profession involves scary women offering to show people their breasts. Said lady whispered in his ear again. "Right," he mumbled, "She wants sixty pounds. Go on! This is rock n' roll! Sixty pounds to See This Girls TITS!" The girl stood grinning idiotically and Vance stared hard at her clothed chest while some Sky fools scampered around trying to raise the cash. "She is RANCID!" I bellowed, when approached for a "donation". Nik Moore, who's spent most of the night with his head in his hands, going "I don't fucking know," grumbled about a time he'd been to Stringfellows with Lemmy. "It was awful," he sighed. "They offered me a private dance and I told them to piss off." The Sky people returned to the stage fifteen minutes later, with a pint glass containing "about thirty quid." Tommy went red with rage - the veins on his head seemed to be swelling and bursting, he'd developed some kind of tick and was jerking and twitching like and epileptic undergoing execution by electric chair. "This is ROCK! What's wrong with you bastards? ROCK and ROLL!!! TITS!!! You'll still do it though love?" The girl shook her frizzly head, mournfully, yet still wearing the same demented grin. Someone chucked in another tenner, and Vance appeared to cheer up a little. "Fourty POUNDS! For this girls TITS! You're cheap bastards, have you forgotten what rock 'n' roll IS? You'll do it darling?" The girl shook her head, slowly, and was promptly beaten into the corner by a vicious and relentless hail of complimentary gummy bears... at this point Vance became scarily frenzied and stood up, revealing a pair of trousers so high they appeared to be attacking his neck, some wrinkled ankles and random bald spots. He shook with terrible rage, yelling "ROCK!" and "ROLL" and "BASTARDS", spraying cigarette ash from his umpteenth bogarted fag and kicking over miniature bottles of Jack Daniels. The girl said there would be no refunds, and no "private show" for the "generous donators", and Vance tried to cop a freebie, grabbing the girl to him with trembling arms and clawing at her pearly white shirt like a wounded rat. The girl fled the stage, and Tommy mournfully regaled us with the story of how "Hawkwind had Stacey and she's get 'em out any time, for anybody... she knew what real rock 'n' roll was about. Those were the days..." He looked sad, and older than ever, and I felt a little sorry for the poor old fool. Those were indeed different days - when a man could eke a living from hanging onto the coat tails of hippies and rock scum, and fat ladies would gladly flash their bossoms and open their legs for anyone that seemed connected to "the action". Those days are gone, and Tommy knows it - nowadays he gets his bread acting as a comedy quiz compere and the "voice and face of Total Rock Dot Com" - an enterprise we labelled "doomed and useless like a still born Catholic" two years ago... " Such, such were the joys And what does any of this have to do with food? What indeed - let's hope it folds as soon as possible (and that it's not Amanda doing the folding)

surprised that Tommy had the energy as for tits up, Abi will have that angle pretty well covered (or more likely uncovered) in due course

if you want to eat/stay in Chamonix Albert 1er is good

not convinced about how great the idea was in the first place, so maybe not such a missed opportunity in my book. totally agree with the "utter rubbish" and "crap verbiage" though. as someone else has said, the inclusion of Tommy Vance defines it perfectly (notwithstanding the sunglasses).

I've heard some anally retentive things in my time, but what is this about?

I think that this is a bit harsh - my interpretation is that your husband is an incurable romantic and wants to have a reminder of you with him at all times. We Englishman are so terribly misunderstood.

Traditional Englishmen use dishwashers too - they're called Englishwomen

In my short experience, she is certainly not the sort of person you'd want to pick a fight with. As an example, during the meal last Monday, I had to take a short call from the better half who I'd taken into hospital that morning for an op under general anaesthetic (hence why I was unusually had an opportunity for lunch). My phone was on vibrate, and when it rang I immediately walked outside as I usually do to take the call rather than subject the other diners to my phone call. Missus Aikens was not overly amused and was rather blunt about telling me that my sea bass was ready and what should they do with it. I don't know what the fuss was about - it was a cold course anyway. I hate to say it but I ended up finding myself apologising to her. I don't think she knows how to deal with things tactfully. Not the sort of lady I'd contemplate messing with at all. Cheers, Howard if you saw the TV programme, just thank your lucky stars it wasn't the famous "slow cooked" mullet - that could have set the whole place off.

who said anything about sharing?

I'm interested by this. We first ate at Michel Bras' restaurant in 1982 and have returned regularly ever since. On our first visit, we stayed for four days and were astonished by what he produced. At that time he had a rating of, I think, 15/20 in the Gault Millau and the guide's commentary spoke about both the quality of the cuisine and its harmony with the environment of the Aubrac. It was precisely that that gave it such overwhelming impact. We first visited the new restaurant in 1993, arriving in thick fog (in the middle of August!) - when the fog cleared, the vista was extraordinary. We returned to stay the following year - in the room that we have always subsequently booked - and the emotion of waking and then looking out on, what is for me, the most memorable view I have ever experienced, is beyond my powers of expression. The point of all this is that, when we returned last year for a three day stay, the experience was unhappy. Not unhappy in the sense of the facilities on offer but that, for us, the soul of the place had changed. It felt more like other Michelin 3* establishments, albeit one in a unique location, than a special place, whose significance transcended food and a place to stay. A contributory factor was the food - the most disappointing meals in over twenty years. Compared to where we ate before and after on that holiday, Michel Bras' cuisine was bland and unoriginal - I never thought that I would write those words. Notwithstanding my love of place, we shan't be going back - and I feel deep sadness that that's the case.

I take it all back http://www.sky.com/skynews/article/0,,30500-13028225,00.html

I liked the 'Place the F***ing onions' myself. Seems odd that if they were struggling making money that they didn't decide to open weekends. shortage of mullet could have been a limiting factor

I assumed that they were performing for their own benefit (as arranged by their PR company). At least the Hamilton's in panto were trying to be funny.