An Autobiographical Piece

I am a firm believer in food being memorable. Perhaps not to the degree of remembering the exact description and ingredients of what went into a meal, but certainly remembering the quality of the food and whether or not you had a nice time. Since food is a highly sensory pleasure, I find the memory of vivid images and auras also lingers in the memory.

Below I’ve listed my five most memorable meals. They’re all good ones (good meals tend to endure longer than bad ones), and they’re from different times in my life too. Only one of these is during the time I’ve been writing this blog, and only one is in London. Interesting that the memories of food stretch so far and so wide… Rather than list them in order of preference, they are chronological. So, from earliest first:

1) Bunters Pizza Pie: Teddington, some time in the early 90s

This certainly lends itself more to the vague recollection department. I was not ten at the time, and back in those days I was a really fussy eater. (Nowadays I call it ‘refined’…) There was not a lot I enjoyed and my choices were always limited. I did, however, love spaghetti bolognaise. It was my standard ‘favourite meal’ when I was growing up.

This particular experience is one of the first meals out I can ever remember having. We’d not long moved into a new house and my parents had promised us a trip to a local restaurant as soon as we’d got settled in. Bunters Pizza Pie on Teddington’s Broad Street has since become part of the Red Peppers chain, but I’ll never forget the night I first went there. I asked for (not ordered, asked for) spaghetti bolognaise, which I thought I could just about get through.

It came in a bowl, which surprised me. A big bowl, too. I always used to eat it off a plate. I remember thinking how different and exciting it was. I can also clearly remember feeling very good about the dish as soon as I saw it. It didn’t look like the chunky pasta ‘n sauce combo we’d eat at home – this was more of a dish, per se. It was a classic, simple bolognaise in hindsight: very smooth sauce and lots of tomato. Whilst unspectacular, this is the meal I will remember forever as exposing me to restaurant eating.

2) Fish ‘n Chips: Newquay, September 2003

This one also is vague, but less so than the youthful haze of my bolognaise adventure. Some friends and I embarked on a week-long camping trip to Newquay in search of a little late summer fun. The trip itself was glorious, with no end of frolicking in fields, general tomfoolery and food over a camp fire.

However, it’s the first day’s evening meal which sticks in my memory with such lasting nostalgia. We’d set up our tents in some relative sunshine and wandered into town. Unfortunately the heavens opened and we mutedly trudged around a deserted seaside village enveloped in grey and wet. We did, however, come across what was reputedly the best chippie in Newquay. Scampi and chips in a paper wrap and back to the campsite.

Sitting in a four-man tent in the pouring rain with five friends, eating the best scampi and chips ever: you’ll never forget it. Salt of the earth (or salt of the sea?) stuff, and the kind of memory that makes one shiver with delight.

3) Cilantro Restaurant in the Madejski Stadium: Reading, August 2004

One might even go as far as saying that this meal started everything for me. Well, started all over again, at least. Mike and I had organised a birthday meal for a friend of ours at his beloved Reading FC home ground, which basically involved a meal in the stadium’s hotel complex.

It was the first meal I’d ever eaten that included some dishes which are now staples of mine. Pork belly with pineapple sauce and artichoke hearts to start, chateaubriand for main course with Madeira jus, then a chocolate fondant for dessert. (It was with Guinness ice cream, but it was still great.) This was the first time I had eaten any of these dishes, and it was clearly a meal that had long-lasting effects!

This was the start of my education in fine dining. When you hit serious quality for the first time, you don’t forget it.

4) Veal ‘n Mushrooms: Lucca, Italy, October 2006

Eating in Italy is more often than not a memorable experience. Sometimes because you’re given overpriced rubbish out of a can that they’re flogging at an inflated price to gullible tourists, but usually because it’s Italian food as it’s meant to be cooked and eaten. Occasionally, though, you not only get the food, but you feel as if you’ve nailed the feeling of being Italian, of living a lifestyle far removed from your own, and of almost sinking into the earthy goodness of the local heartland.

Lucca is my favourite town in Italy. Located in the centre of Tuscany, surrounded by a magnificent and imposing old wall, replete with small local shops, adorable restaurants and grandiose plazas, it is a town worth visiting once you’ve had your fill of the spectacular sights of Pisa and Florence. This particular meal was on a side street somewhere in the town (I don’t remember the name of the restaurant, though it may not even have had one), which started me thinking “we’re on to a winner here”.

We sat inside at a red-and-white chequered table cloth. We were the only people in there. A football match was showing on a fuzzy television in the corner. I was presented with a piece of veal covered in a variety of fresh local mushrooms with oil and herbs. As I began eating, I started wondering how I could get enough money to buy a house in the countryside near Lucca, and where exactly in Tuscany I’d like my ashes scattered.

5) Pavilien Ledoyen: Paris, France, April 2009

And so we enter the next level of my culinary education. This is a restaurant within the general area of the Eiffel Tower, next to the river, that has three Michelin stars. It’s French food, and it’s in Paris. I think that may be all I need to say about it, in truth.

For some extra minimal details, during the course of this meal, I ate the best foie gras, the best soup, the best pasta and just about the best ice cream I have ever tasted. It’s safe to say that if you want food to knock the breath out of you, to re-shape your world, to show you little glimpses of what it’s like to be really, truly satisfied… then eat three Michelin star French food in France. Christian Le Squer’s restaurant on the banks of the Seine is brilliant, absorbing, ever-so-slightly intimidating and the greatest meal I have ever eaten.

(Disclaimer: the restaurant is only mortal. I didn’t like the squab pigeon that my other half ordered. It may not be for you should you ever go there, so please don’t hold me responsible for any misplaced trust on your part. Perfection is near impossible.)