fuck foam - the emperor's got no clothes

i know i have touched on my hatred for "gastronomic" foam before.

and i know some people are creaming their jeans about ferran adrià's visit to australia.

i know his restaurant el bulli in spain is the current bee's knees eating spot, with a waiting list for 12 months or some rubbish.

but know this, chefs of the world:

restaurants where you have to eat in the dark, are bullshit.

restaurants where there are 84 courses, with matched wines, are bullshit.

restaurants with menus that list every single fucking ingredient including palm sugar, are bullshit.

restaurants which feature dishes blending ridiculous tastes and textures, are bullshit. i'm not saying i can't appreciate innovative when it works. but parmesan and banana? beetroot and chocolate?

come on.

restaurants which promote descriptions like this: crunchy dehydrated tomato flakes, of biological origin with an attractive bright orange colour. Crutomat does not add acidity and brings out the full flavour of the tomato, giving a fantastic texture to pastries or preparations. Available in elongated flakes. Keep in a cool dry place. Ingredients: 400 g Tomato Flakes: tomato flakes, corn starch, sugar are bullshit.

give me a good beef burgundy. give me a good soft poached egg. give me a good tasmanian or coffin bay oyster (not sydney rock.) give me a good medium-rare fillet steak. give me a good duck confit. give me a good chicken casserole. give me a good slice of beautifully grilled fish, with garlic and oil. give me good potato mash. give me good green beans. give me a good, simple salad, with oil, salt and lemon. give me a good slice of bread, with real butter. give me a good souffle. give me a good cheesecake. give me a good bombe alaska (oh, mirka, here you excel.)

give me good service, but not hovery, obsequious, poncey, naffness.

give me the feeling of your geniune enjoyment of your job, not the feeling that you wish you were at home with beers and a pizza in front of australian idol.

don't flirt with me, i won't like it and neither will my husband. but i can flirt with you, and you and he can cope with that.

don't ever, ever fucking raise your eyebrow at my choice of wine, or wanting something that you think doesn't go with something else.

and don't use the words "foam", "froth", "clouds", "molecular", "spray", "frozen air" or "acqueous" when you want me to eat something on your menu. "smoke" is also dodgy when used as a noun.

follow these instructions and you will have, in me, a happy customer.

thank you.

i know he looks like he's wearing clothes. that's just the illusion.