Wow, what a strange culinary weekend it has been, topped in the end by a visit to the best named restaurant ever; 'Marks Restaurant'. Not 'Dave's restaurant', not 'Rogers', 'Marks'. I would love to have been a fly on the wall during that light bulb moment.
"Um...Metallica, Midget.......Mark!! Let's call it 'Marks'". "But what's that got to do with anything, Rog?"
"I know, but it just might be crazy enough to work."
I was taken aback by the pure joy expressed by the maître dee (whom I can only presume was Roger) when he found out he would be hosting one for dinner.
Rog showed me to my table with what felt like a wheel of fortune "ta da", pleading with me to accept the crap vowel he had proffered.
It is restaurant law that single dinners should be shunted to the back of the restaurant less their general wrongness upset the worthwhile clientele.
Thankfully, a professional waiter took my order, and I lived happily ever after.
By the way the pork was meh. The oysters were fresh and to the point but the chocolate mousse was amazing. read more