Imagine that you were taken to the castle where several of the Princesses that you know from the stories you have read about, live. I mean, the real, actual Princesses. Where they really, actually live. You can see them, they wave at you, they smile and all is well with the world.
Then imagine, that you got to go to dinner in Cinderellas house. The real, actual Cinderellas real, actual house. Think that you have reached the pinnacle of excitement? Not even close my friend, because what's this? Who is that coming in through the door? It isn't, it can't be, it is, it's the real, proper, actual, Princess Aurora! And Cinderella! And Belle! She isn't, she won't, she is, she is coming here, she's talking to you! Actually talking to you! Fainted yet? Exactly.
Oh yeah, we should be talking about the food. To be fair, the food looked good but suffered horrifically from such Frenchification with rich, heavy sauces and a menu which promised much but sadly in the end simply couldn't deliver. I think that the world has moved on from plates like this and considering the price of the whole shebang, you would think that the expectation should be considerably higher.
Starters were deliciously named yet remarkably unexceptional eating. My quail stuffed with truffle would have probably been delicious if I had been able to detect any truffle and in my opinion the term 'stuffed' should not be used when discussing pate! Mrs P.'s pumpkin soup was thin and bulked only by the enormous freaking pie crust that had been mysteriously placed on the top!
Mains (in order) were veal, scallops and salmon but all were heavy and a real effort to power through. Mrs P.'s veal was huge, over cooked and the gravy was so sweet that it was almost caramelising on the plate, my scallops were cooked perfectly but the cream and white wine sauce was so thick that it coated my cutlery like a buttery tar that threatened to suck me in everytime I tried excavate a mouthful. The best dish on the table was The Child's salmon parcel, not least because the sauce was on the side. The fish was nicely cooked, the filling was a great balance of tangy mustard and creamy butter, plus the filo was a great crunch.
Puddings were a cacophony of chocolate. See that shoe? Solid white chocolate. I thought it was a little excessive too. The raspberry tuile was a nice counterpoint though and actually really tasty. Otherwise, it was chocolate mousse, chocolate discs, chocolate cake and chocolate shoes.
Oh, and the price. For three of us, well, for three diners plus the personal companionship of three of your favourite Princesses, how much would you pay for the phrase 'Wow Daddy, this is the best holiday EVER!'? Priceless, right?
No.
Very much not priceless. Disneyland can apparently put a price on that for you. Try £180 plus drinks. Oh and you also have to put up with the room full of Americans that are busy claiming what good value this place represents, and how they just HAD to order to champagne (at €150 a bottle), you know, because otherwise it just wouldn't be authentic.
Still, The Child appreciated it, which is good as it will be the only holiday she'll get for the next twelve years, while we recover.
No comments:
Post a Comment