A cheeky weekend with Mrs B in Dublin. A lovely weekend. The weather, the city, the pubs and the lovely Mrs B.
We were savouring an exquisite dinner, prepared for us by top chefs at the top of their game. The delightful Camden Kitchen. Boxes are ticked for menu, ambiance, romance, vino. The whole nine yards.
As the ‘Kitchen is an intimate venue the table next to us is, well, very next to us. Mind-your-elbows next to us.
The young lady was either being stood up or dining alone I surmised. Then her friend arrived. Lovely people I’m sure: neighbourly, well turned out, good table manners.
Here’s the thing. IMHO if you come to a great restaurant, order exquisite food prepared by a top chef you should pay attention to your damn food. I am noticing as they pick through dinner they do not pause for breath let alone pause to notice, let alone mention the plates in front of them.
It breaks my heart.
Of course, it’s not my place to tell people what to do but my opinion is… if you don’t appreciate fine food, have a gossip whilst you eat in McDonald’s.
I suppose restaurateurs are happy to have paying covers. Although I’d suggest that decent chefs in their independent kitchens would prefer to be appreciated than merely paid. In the same way that automotive designers weep when their years of toil on fine design are merely driven to the shops and back.
Then there’s music, computers and pretty much anything designed with high performance in mind.
How many things in life are crafted with skill, delivered with care, consumed with ignorance.
Just because you’ve money, there should be some other criteria before you’re allowed to partake in good stuff. A passport to entry of some kind? Hmmm. On this basis, I wonder if I’d be allowed to play the saxophones I own? (As they are clearly better horns than I am a musician.) Would I be allowed to drink wine? What about my running shoes?
Hardly anyone would be granted an Apple user licence, Range Rover would go out of business.
It’s my inner engineering geek and asthete ranting here. My conscious pragmatist says you pays your money, you takes your choice. When we step outside Mrs B stops for a photo and the mural strikes me as word perfect…
For the record, Mrs B and I have a wonderful meal: pigeon, venison, goats cheese and ox cheek. I do enjoy and occasional McDonald’s breakfast: a sausage’n’egg McMuffin since you’re asking. With a tea. One sugar. (Shoot me now.)
In the words of the great Ferris Bueller:
Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.