Piccadilly since 1707

Friday 26th August 2011

A substantial push is required to part the classic wooden doors through which you find yourself in the unique atrium of Fortnum and Mason, a magnificent room comprising a gastronome's paradise: shelves and shelves of beautifully packaged teas, coffees, jams, chocolates, biscuits, cheese - all displayed in all their splendour in carefully packed rows. The atmosphere is welcoming, friendly, and there seems to be a feeling of mutual acknowledgement that this is a special place.

It is a commonly known fact that he who dares to test their self control in such an environment by browsing on an empty stomach will suffer, or at least their bank balances will, so with every intention of returning after lunch, we made our way to The Fountain restaurant, a middle ground between the relaxed ice cream indulgence that is The Parlour on the floor above, and the devastating interior of St James's restaurant on the top floor. After an initial look of doubt from the waiter when we announced that we did not have a reservation, we were soon seated and revelling in the cool ambiance that surrounded us; a glorious room which nonetheless exuded a relaxed a sociable air. It did not take us long to decide, and our thirst was soon quenched with that all important first gulp of a chilled glass of Chablis, and a wicket basket of beautiful breads was presented to us, from which I selected an aromatic hunk of apricot and fig bread.

Presently, a platter of grilled razor clams promptly landed before my brother; an impressive piece which none of us were familiar with but which received top marks. The fish was expertly cooked to the perfect texture, and the clams were nestling in a rich sauce of butter, chilli, lime and garlic which was ambrosial, with the chilli providing a cheeky after-kick.

Feeling enthused, optimistic and eagerly awaiting what was anticipated to be the prompt arrival of the main courses, we praised the experience thus far, though were faced with a challenge when trying to establish where we fitted in among the eclectic mix of customers that surrounded us, of which there was no one of my generation, a Chinese family with 2 young children, a handful of middle aged couples and several businessmen.

Whilst observing these varied characters, it soon came to our attention that many of them had in fact arrived after us, yet they were one by one tucking into their lunch, of which there was still no sight of ours. A few audible complaints from my stomach and a glance at my watch told me that 45 minutes had now passed prompted a querying frown in the waitress's direction and a request to find out what had happened to our meal.

Meanwhile, condensation droplets were beginning to form round the rim of my glass and my self restraint required to save it to go with the food was fast disappearing.

Fifteen more minutes passed and it was quite clear that our message had not been passed on and we had been nothing short of forgotten. At the hour mark both my mother and I were beginning to have a real sense of humour failure and my mother was threatening to leave. At last the manager came over and made the fatal error of assuring us that our food would arrive in 4 minutes, at which I immediately put him on the clock. 9 minutes later and it was on the table, with my mother shaking her head and muttering and me firing my most unimpressed face none too sparingly.

However poor the service, it could not take away from the quality of the food. I had ordered an asparagus and apricot salad with couscous and a crispy breaded poached egg on top - and I could not fault it. The asparagus were perfectly cooked and tender, as was the poached egg, which oozed an aureate stream of viscose yolk upon entry, and the apricot and pomegranate provided an injection of flavour and crunch amongst the soft couscous. My mother had a creamy bowl of fish pie with a plethora of fish inside including mussels, scallops, prawns and salmon, and a superb ratio of potato to sauce to fish, which is so often unsatisfactory. Alas there was no seasoning on the table, which I had immediately observed, as two supplements without which I feel incomplete. Before we had finished, the manager arrived and presented the bill tucked inside a card and announced apologetically that the entire meal was complimentary.

Undeniably an embarrassing situation, but having gone with such high expectations in anticipation of the experience, and with such a reputation to uphold, it seemed only right that they should have gone to such lengths to compensate for our disappointment.

Still, I refuse to let this particular episode mar my high opinion of the establishment, and it will not prevent me from returning.