Tuesday evening, and dinner with Adriana at L’Ortolan, a Michelin 1-star restaurant near Reading. We had booked to arrive at 7pm, and made a good fist of it even allowing for the dire Reading evening traffic.

I had a particularly pleasant drive up there with Dave who out of tremendous kindness offered to drive me there and back, as well as cat-sit at the house for the evening.

That Dave’s mode of transport is named Charlotte, and is a black 6 ltr V12 Aston Martin DB7 Vantage, was purely icing upon an already frosted cake.

I was dropped off, stumped over to the perhaps too discreet front door, which was swung open for me and I was warmly welcomed inside; swung to the bar on the right to meet A, order two G&Ts, retiring to the conservatory to argue over the choice of menus for a delightful age, whilst served with a wonderful selection of petit four.

We went a-la carte in the end; I can’t remember everything but I think it ran…

• veloute of celeriac in a teacup
• ravioli of cheese on iberico para negri serrano / foie gras in a basket
• grouse on shredded vegetables and boudin (white pudding) / gorgeous pink venison
• a blackcurrent granita to cleanse the palate
• (um… at this point i attacked the cheese trolley as an experiment; a goaty one, a corsican one, a french one that sounded like “thunderbird”, and a blue one. i think i’ll remember them when i encounter them again.)
• chocolate fondant with caramel foam / plum crumble souffle with vanilla custard
• coffee, tea, petit-four

…along with a robust French red which Adriana picked with the explicit intention of taking on the gaminess of the venison and grouse we’d selected. It did good.

The service was charming; chatting having just finished the granita, Ania the assistant manager and Alan the chef serially arrived to ask forgiveness and permission to take a little extra time over the desserts as Adriana’s souffle had collapsed on first attempt and Alan was not satisfied; apparently this was the first night of the new dessert menu.

Dave arrived at 10pm so we all decamped back to the conservatory for coffee and petit-four; if you ever have the opportunity here’s a tip: go for the lollipop. It’s superb, rich, sweet, razor-thin layer of sharp zingy fruity sugar, sprinkled with what British children will know as “space dust”, exploding and popping on your tongue.

The only slight goof in service was our ability to escape without being marshalled, collecting our own jackets and waving goodbye – but that’s a small thing. Some slight gymnastics got everyone in the car, and to Reading station to catch a late train.

A superb evening, highly recommended.

Plus, we made lots of work for the Hydro-Ceramic Technician.