National Jennygraphic: The Fat Duck

It’s official – I’m one year closer to my mid-30s.

Last year, I turned 32 surrounded by new friends in Australia on a press trip. It was quite amazing that we had three women with consecutive birthdays – Natalie on Nov. 23, Olivia on the 24^th and mine on the 25^th. It was besherit.

This year, I find myself with my fiancé having a once-in-a-lifetime experience at The Fat Duck, three-star Michelin molecular gastronomy restaurant in a Bray, essentially a Gastro-village.

It was a 14 course lunch spanning 4 ½ hours, but honestly, it was more like theatre.

Moss and fog.

Owner Heston Blumenthal, who is in the midst of moving not only his staff of 55 at the Fat Duck, but in some cases, their families to Melbourne, Australia, to open another location, seems to have a childlike side that translates into his food.

In particular, the Jelly of Quail, Crayfish (truffle for me as I’m allergic to crustaceans) was parfait. Literally.

It was served with truffle toast, oak moss and chicken liver parfait. The server put down a wooden box full of astroturf in front of us and using a tea pot, poured water over it to create a rolling fog that spilled on to our table.

It was weird, a bit disconcerting, but really cool.

“Imagine you are taking a walk in a forest. Enjoy your walk,” she said.

Other items included the snail porridge, roast foie gras. Mike fawned over the “Umble pie,” deer, kale and root vegetables and the salmon poached in a liquorice gel with vanilla mayonnaise.

Umble pie.

Roasted foie gras.

Snail porridge.

Each dish had its own unique story, and many were interactive.

“Sound of the Sea” is a plate of tapioca, octopus and fish (forget what kind) served on a plate of glass box containing sand and souvenirs of a beach.

The server instructed us to put in the iPod earbuds and listen to the sound of the crashing ocean waves and the birds squawking.

I couldn’t get the taste of kelp out of my mouth, so I wasn’t particularly a fan.

Hearing aids.

The conch.

During “The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party” dish, we were presented with a portable cabinet of two gold watches, which our server dissolved in a transparent tea pot atop clear teacups. She told us to swirl the liquid until the watches blended in and then pour the concoction into the cup containing mock turtle soup and an egg. There were also Alice in Wonderland-like toast sandwiches accompanying the tea. Pretty wild.

Mad Hatter's Tea Party.

Tea sandwiches.

I was also a fan of the hot and iced tea – a thick lemon tea that was both warm and cool to the touch of the tongue. I could feel the cooler liquid slide down a little slower. Whenever I went to buffets with my family, the last thing I would always get at the serving station was a) a bowl of wonton soup b) a scoop of ice cream.

I would take a spoonful of vanilla or chocolate ice cream and push it to one cheek and slurp a spoonful of piping hot soup in the other. I’m a weirdo, but I just really loved the sensation of two extremes at once.

Maybe that’s just a metaphor for my life.

Hot iced tea.

Thicker than tea.

And finally, let me tell you about the egg.

The eggs in Verjus.

The egg!

Cracked open.

It arrived on my plate as a beautiful brown egg, wrapped in edible gold foil nest. Cracking it open, I realized the shell was actually white chocolate and this delicious cream yolk. Paired with a sweet wine, it was a dessert I have never experienced before. No words. And I’m a writer.

It wasn’t a cheap experience, but a memorable one.

I actually don't mind getting older. I don't feel old at all – sometimes wiser, sometimes not. But I've done a lot of great things in my life so far, with more to come. I am surrounded by great friends, family, co-workers and loves. I used to think at 16 or 17 I'd be dead when I was 30, but now I see life really starts to feel like it gets rolling when you're my age.

I'm excited for whatever adventures lie ahead.

Stepping out of that unmarked restaurant put us back into the cold, the rain, back into reality. It was much nicer in the bubble.

We’re currently on a train back to Paddington station in London and probably will pass out in a food coma when we get to Morden.