My son likes his white butter cold-pressed and unsalted, a varietal that is ideal accompaniment with sizzling parathas in winter - though, of course, we've all grown up with the staple goodness of Amul. Every once in a while, the cook does us a batch of garlic butter to go on toast with soup. Yet, I have to admit being foxed when the maître d' at a tony restaurant in the US asked us what kind of butter we'd prefer with our bread basket. Back home, we were familiar with herb butter, but that didn't make the cut of the "progressive international cuisine" we were being served, and so we settled for a "degustation bed" of fleur de sel, truffle, and baratte - butters all.
This is after we'd decided on a wine of our host's choice, the last bottle of Amoretti from its substantial cellar for being "full bodied" - his preference - and "dry" - in deference to mine. The uncorking and sniffing had happened, requiring it to be decanted to breathe. The accompanying platter of cheeses was the sommelier's choice to reflect our pick of wine - but we nevertheless got a cheese tour from the waiter, who pointed out each selection: a blue stilton from England, a French chevre, an Italian Fontina Val d'Aosta, a Spanish afuego and a Humboldt fog that was American. But we tripped over the choice of artisan breads. Did we want raisin pecan or focaccia? Sourdough Tuscan, pane Milanese or ciabatta Mediterranean? (We asked for the whole damn lot.)
Remember those days when selecting which single malt to request posed the big conundrum? Today, you can ill-afford to step into a diner unless you're snootily versed in the choice of water you want served. Still or sparkling, spring or artesian well, bottled or running, room temperature or iced, infused with citrus or plain… and that's before someone asks for your choice of glass (don't even go there) -pint or thistle, stange or chalice, snifter or goblet, Reidel or crystal?
Breads, butters, cheeses, wine, waters selected, we still had the onerous task of picking our entrees - how many courses did we want: four, six, eight? Opting for the less-is-more to avoid falling foul of the service staff, we were still confounded by the alternatives. Oxtail or sea trout? Brussels sprout (with roasted pepper and ricotta) or foie gras? I opted for the latter before being asked to pick from an entirely seafood-based second course - lobster, black bass, sturgeon or scallops, with a nod to white truffles for vegetarians, served with such accompaniments as octopus, clams, onion soubise, toasted oats and salsify, at which we nodded wisely and left it to the sages of fine dining to decide.
Another course was on offer with venison and rabbit, guinea hen and - close your ears if this offends you - beef short rib. I got the venison by default - we simplified the decision by ordering one of each - which allowed us to desist from embarrassing ourselves when it came to choosing our last and final course: dessert. Too full of the "progressive cuisine", we were able to pass over creme fraîche and sunchoke with a light flutter of our fingers but without having to decide over coffee souffle or pear stewed in blood orange with white chocolate and almond. But, yes, we'd like tea. Did we pick from the Bai Mu Dan white peony, Chinese congou, Yunan black, Ceylon bergamot, Imperial oolong or Lapsang souchong? I dare say I don't remember, and people say the good life is easy….
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