Here it is, nearly October, and I’m about to recap a meal I had in the middle of August. Normally I’d let it go, but not when we’re talking about Dinner by Heston Blumenthal, currently ranked as the #5 restaurant in the world. We had lunch at Blumenthal’s other restaurant, The Fat Duck—currently #47 on that same list—a few days before this year’s London Worldcon, and this dinner at Dinner a few days after meant that we bookmarking our trip with Blumenthal.

The way the two restaurants differ is that the Fat Duck is like Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, filled with tricks and over-the-top presentations, such as a mock turtle soup prepared by dissolving a gold watch in front of you, or a seafood course eaten to beach sounds piped in from an iPod-stuffed shell. But though Dinner also displays culinary magic, it’s instead in the way it serves homages to dishes throughout history, everything from Frumenty (circa 1390) to Tipsy Cake (circa 1810).

Here was my view from the six-person Chef’s Table, which I shared with Graham Sleight, David Shaw, and Diane Martin on my right, and Shana Worthen and my wife on my left.

Visible to my left through a long narrow window was the cold room in which dishes such as the famous meat fruit were prepared. These—not ours—were in the kitchen awaiting final plating as we took our seats. A series of them being brought to others tantalized us, for we wouldn’t receive ours until three dishes in.

Our first dish was …

Salamugundy (circa 1720)
Roast quail, salsify, marrow bone and horseradish cream

What a way to begin! Rich and delicate at the same time, and putting my own attempts at quail to shame. As I wrote back then, I was looking forward to eating quail prepared by a chef who knew what he was doing. At The Fat Duck, I did. Why do you think I keep going to places like this?

Lobster and cucumber soup (circa 1730)
Lobster salad, smoked onion, rock samphire and sorrel

Delicate, delicious, and not at all how I imagined anyone was eating back in 1730.

Meat fruit (circa 1500)
Mandarin, chicken liver & foie gras parfait, grilled bread

This is the famous dish that, according to Executive Head Chef Ashley Palmer-Watts, who took such wonderful care of us that night, even causes the rowdiest of tables to fall silent. It may appear to be an orange, but beneath its exterior is a magnificent chicken liver and foie gras parfait. There are three chefs who work five hours apiece each day creating nothing but this dish, and it exceeded our expectations.

Frumenty (circa 1390)
Grilled octopus, smoked sea broth, pickled dulse and lovage

If you’ve read other posts of mine, you already know how much I love octopus. And believe me, no iPod was needed to bring the sea alive this time.

Roast Iberico pork chop (circa 1820)
Smoked bispi cabbage, confit onion, apple & mead, Robert sauce

If you had been sitting next to me that night, there’d be no need to describe the dish. My groans would have told all.

Spiced pigeon (circa 1780)
Ale and artichokes

As perfect a pigeon as ever there was.

Tarte of strawberries (circa 1560)
Macerated strawberries, chamomile, orange blossom cream and strawberry sorbet

One of the finest desserts I’ve ever eaten. What would come next, however, though less extravagant in its appearance, was even more amazing.

At the opposite end of the kitchen from us, we could see pineapples roasting on spits over an open fire …

… an integral component of …

Tipsy cake (circa 1810)
Spit roast pineapple

This was the other dish which Palmer-Watts said causes diners to fall silent. So much cream is added repeatedly to the brioche balls during the cooking process (you can find the recipe here) that the end product is … dare I use the word heavenly? I think I’m going to have to. And married to that pineapple … oof! I could see returning for that dish alone.

Well, and a second helping of meat fruit.

We ended with …

Cheese course
with oat cakes, Yorkshire chutney and cider apple

Four of the cheeses were Barlett, Tunworth, Devon Blue, and Lancashire … but as for the fifth, you’ll just have to wait for David Shaw’s write-up of this meal, which will eventually pop up here, and which I hope will fill in that missing bit of info.

Once we nibbled as much as we could, there was little to do but applaud the staff for a truly magnificent meal and snap a picture with Executive Head Chef (and our host) Ashley Palmer-Watts.

Well, there was one more thing.

Shana Worthen, who’d help pull together the Exhibit Hall at Loncon3, had brought with her the posters I’d prepared for that display of my 10 foodie favorites, and I was egged on by those who remained to unroll them and share them with the Chef. I tried to beg off, sure that all he wanted to do at that point was head home after a long day, but after hearing me talk of the some of the places I’ve dined, he assured me that he really wanted to take a look.

So I spread on the counter my photos from Alinea, Boragó, Astrid y Gaston and other places and quickly took him on a tour of my lifetime culinary peaks. I feared it was the kind of thing one shouldn’t do, like talking to a new lover about all your past lovers, but he was kind enough to act as if enjoyed what I was saying and hadn’t heard it all before.

And then it was back to our hotel for one final night in London, for the following day we’d have to head home. But not before—believe it or not—visiting a third Heston Blumenthal restaurant!

But that’s a story for another day …