Paper Palate

I recently had a month off between jobs and decided to devote my time to anything culinary. One element to my timetable was a day trip to Paris. Being based in London, this is an easy undertaking, what with the delights of Eurostar and the budget airlines.

Whilst strolling along the Left Bank of the Seine, on my way to an early supper at L’Atelier du Joël Robuchon, my eye was caught by one of the bookstalls that line the river bank. This particular one was devoted to menus. In my worst French and the stall holders’ worst English, I discovered that he sold original historic menus, including an Escoffier (dating back to his time at the Savoy); copies of historic menus, (for example the last meal on the Titanic) and contemporary menus. I was intrigued. Despite my habit of eating out, I’d never really thought of menus as commodities, let alone collectibles. My bag was already heavy from the weight of foie gras, paté, goose fat sausage and saucissons. I felt a menu might be the straw to break my back. But, it got me thinking and I decided that I would do my best to hold on to any future menus I laid my hands on. Unfortunately I forgot about my new resolution whilst tucking into Joël Robuchon’s mashed potato. However, when I went to Puglia a few weeks later, I did remember and kept hold of as many menus as I could. A habit I have maintained.

Apart from my first experience in Paris, I wasn’t too sure how many people asked for menus at the end of their meals and whether the restaurant thought this odd. I was therefore relieved to see Nicholas Lander, the Financial Times’ restaurant critic, write about just this subject, this weekend. Lander, keeps a box full of old menus, tasting notes and other restaurant ephemera, which he can delve into and instantly be reminded of his meals. I can sympathize, seeing the menu from Alle due Corti brings back the exact taste of the fave nette cu le cicureddhe. But as Lander goes on to say, the menus remind him of the events around the meal, for him the Fat Duck menu conjures up memories of the car journey after the meal, more than of egg and bacon ice cream. At first, this struck me as odd, but on reflection I know what he means. Looking at my menu for Galvin I’m primarily reminded of an icy walk through a deserted London. Although, my dessert of oranges and campari was an inspired end to a sublime meal.

Lander concludes that 2005 was one of his best ever eating years. I have to agree with him. True, I don’t have the three decades of professional experience that he does, but nonetheless it was a fantastic year for food. 2005 has been good to food lovers. Whether we’re talking about the opening of new and exciting top-end restaurants such as Dine, places to grab some food whilst at work, like Leon, or even the vast improvement of school meals, thanks to Jamie Oliver.

Lander ends his piece by praising San Sebastian, as the place that gave him more gastronomic pleasure than anywhere else in 2005. For me, it’s a tough one. I feel an urge to be loyal to London. I know my favourite suppliers, the best restaurants and the hidden gems - it’s my home. But in terms of absolute food pleasure, I think it has to be Puglia, Italy. The consistently high standards and sheer obsession with food and drink was something else: the market stalls overflowing with deep red tomatoes and knobbly lemons; the oozing buffalo mozzarella; the deep, cherry coloured wines and the endless hospitality of the locals added up to it being my number one choice.

I wonder what 2006 has to offer?