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From a culinary point of view the meal was a disaster on a scale which could only be described as heroic. From the standpoint of a potential competitor it was a wonderful, mind-blowing, exhilarating confirmation of all that Zoe had been impressing upon Ben since Clive had first floated his offer to back them.
How could they be anything other than successful if this was their only competition? Zoe queried in exultation, watching Ben’s expression as he tasted his soup.
They had had to wait until nine o’clock to be shown to their table by an obviously nervous waitress. The dining-room was half empty, the empty tables destroying any atmosphere the room might otherwise have had.
They were very busy with the people from the conference, the waitress told Zoe apologetically when she commented on the absence of other diners and the length of time they had had to wait for their meal.
The soup was described over-lavishly on the menu as ‘A thick, home-made, nourishing soup of garden-grown vegetables, enhanced by the chef’s special free-range chicken stock, and embellished with croutons from our own home-made bread’…
‘The vegetables are canned and not fresh,’ Ben exclaimed in disgust after just one spoonful, ‘and as for the stock… Whatever it is, it isn’t chicken, and I should know.’
‘Sarah Bernstein, I know,’ Zoe said, asking him cheerfully, ‘Oh, Ben, is it really that bad?’
‘Worse,’ he assured her grimly.
Zoe had chosen the melon for her first course, not out of any preference but because, apart from a pate which she didn’t want, it was the only other thing on the menu, the other items no longer being available.
The melon was thinly sliced, and garnished with a sticky red sauce into which what looked like an uninspiring selection of small pieces of fruit had been thrown.
For her main course she had ordered coquille St-Jacques, much against Ben’s recommendation.
‘Have the duck,’ he had suggested. ‘You know you’ve got a sensitive stomach—look at that bout of sickness you had only a few weeks ago.’
Zoe had shaken her head and pulled a face. ‘I couldn’t… not after this afternoon…’
Ben had ordered the vegetarian dish for his main course, mainly to see what was being offered, and when their food finally arrived and he saw that he was being served with a very indifferent omelette Zoe could see the disgust curling his mouth.
So, it seemed, could the waitress because she flushed a little and apologised, explaining, ‘It’s because of the conference… We’re very short-staffed.’
‘I’m getting rather tired of hearing about this conference,’ Ben commented when she had left them.
He reached over and picked up Zoe’s plate, sniffing at it.
‘Don’t eat it,’ he warned her. ‘I think the fish is off.’
Zoe pulled a face at him, and laughed. ‘Oh, come on,’ she teased. ‘That’s taking rivalry a bit far.’
‘Mmm… Well, I could be mistaken,’ Ben admitted, ‘but, if my soup was anything to go by, that fish has probably spent more time in the freezer than it ever did in the sea.’
Having discovered that his omelette had the texture of rubber and that the side-salad produced with it was boringly uninspirational, Ben was content to do nothing other than give a disbelieving shake of his head when they discovered that the sweet trolley contained nothing more than chocolate fudge cake and fresh fruit and ice-cream.
‘I don’t believe this,’ he told Zoe in awe.
‘Believe it,’ she assured him. ‘I’ve just seen the trolley.’
After they had finished their meal, Ben summoned the waitress and told her placidly that they had been rather disappointed in their meal.
‘Your restaurant is advertised as recommended,’ he pointed out gently.
The girl flushed and looked unhappily over her shoulder, but no one appeared to rescue her.
‘Yes, but… Well, I’m afraid the chef left last week and as yet… Well, he hasn’t been replaced, and then there’s—’
‘The conference… yes. You’ve already said,’ Ben agreed.
But it was jubilation and not criticism that warmed his voice half an hour later when he and Zoe were sitting in the bar discussing their meal.
‘They could always replace the chef with someone even better,’ Zoe warned him, for once playing devil’s advocate and taking on his role.
