Bah-bah-bah, bah-bah-bah-best. And also worst.
A few years ago a friend and I were dining in Hull’s premier steak restaurant*, The Lantern. The eating’s good in The Lantern; it’s a favourite of John Prescott no less. They do a lovely grilled trout and a stonking steak. That was the starter and the main course, and it was good.

For dessert, we thought we’d try the cheese board for two. What they gave us – well, the food itself wasn’t bad tasting, I guess, but it was a fucking disgrace nonetheless.

They brought it over and I just looked in amazement. It’s not the classiest restaurant in the world, but it’s not cheap: maybe £30 a head for three courses. The cheeseboard for two comprised half a packet of Jacob’s cream crackers, a quarter of a Boursin, a slice of President brie, and a Babybel. Between the two of us. A solitary fucking Babybel.

I burst out laughing when I had to cut the Babybel in two, and I didn’t stop from there. I got the loud and high-pitched giggles, and so then did my friend. We sat there, barely able to eat as we each consumed a Jacob’s cracker with half a Babybel on it, and my eyes started watering with the laughter.

I think we both agree that it’s the worst cheeseboard we’ve ever had, and possibly the worst in the history of civilised dining. But it was also the most fun I’ve ever had in a restaurant: a good half-hour of crying with laughter as the empty wrappers of Boursin and President lay next to the discarded rubber cuttings of a Babybell shell. The waitress was most bemused, and asked if we were alright, but we didn’t complain. How could you when you’re pissing yourself at what you’ve just eaten?

It was fucking brilliant in the end. Not many other meals stick in the mind like that one does.


*It may have been the second best. There are only two.
(Land of Green Ginger It's dreamy weather, Thu 26 May 2011, 16:40, 2 replies)

Baby-Bel
that story reminds me of an incident that a friend of mine, who is a french chef, told me about.

He was in a restaurnat in Dublin, a top class one that boasted of Fresh Irish produce cooked well etc, it was also a restaurant that he knew quite well and when his meal was late he was able to call the kitchen and see what was going on with his food etc etc. Anyway it was the end of the meal, which my friend (Sebasitan, for that is his name) had described as average at best, and people in his party had decided to have a go on the cheese board, advertised as "a selection of local Irish cheeses" rather than have a desert.

When said cheese board arrives it is disappointing, not least because nestling in the middle of the "fresh Irish Cheese selection" was a shiny red Baby Bel, winking cheerfully up my at friend, in the way only a tiny processed wax covered cheese can.

He did not take this particularly well, in fact his reaction was to stand up, holding the cheese in a similar way to the way Hamlet hold's Yorick's skull, and exlaim in his French/Dublin accent " Ba Ba Bel! a Fucking Ba Ba Bel!" before hurling the baby cheeses across the room.

not sure if this was revenge from the kitchen for the phone call, or just a joke, but the moral of this story is, Never fuck around with a frenchman and his cheeses!
(superkitty is neither super nor a kitty, Fri 27 May 2011, 11:23, closed)

Ha ha ha!
That must've been a joke by the restaurant.

Great reaction though. The ideal way to react to a Babybel in your cheeseboard.
(Land of Green Ginger It's dreamy weather, Tue 31 May 2011, 10:57, closed)