Prior to the Asian food meltdown the Jifflers stopped off at Gordon Ramsay's new(ish) restaurant at Heathrow Terminal 5. Plane Food (whoever came up with that name is still recovering) invites us to relax in a kind of jetsons themed dining area, or perch at a bar, ideal I guess for solo travellers. Apparently the decor is designed to give off an aviation vibe, what with it being in an airport and all that. Inspired.
Anyhow, seating and service is swift because Mrs Jiffler and I are the only customers in the whole restaurant. OK, T5 is quiet tonight, but come on? There are two flights leaving for Hong Kong, and another for Moscow. Flights packed with high rollers who might easily drop some cash Chez Ramsay. I feel an episode of kitchen nightmares coming on.
Water (no tap offered) comes fast, as does food. Superfast, which is ideal as we end up pegging it for the flight anyway (nobody told us about the poxy monorail thing). Both of us take a fish main, and thanks to the wonders of moleskine notebooks I can report:
Mrs Jiffler:
Seared Loch Duart salmon, lemon and fennel
Jiffler:
Steamed wild seabass, asparagus, samphire and lemongrass nage
Yes, thats right, nage. Go here for a description of what a la nage is. I looked around to check that we hadn't suddenly entered a timewarp in Terminal 5 and been transported back to some sort of 80's restaurant hell where chefs use opaque foreign language terms in order to appear imaginative. No, we're still surrounded by overdesigned aviation chic, so we must be in some noughties restaurant hell designed by cretinous architects from New York. Phew.
Its good though, the fish. The nage is actually pretty more-ish and its a pleasure to have a bit of samphire on the plate. Do I detect a hint of basil in that sea bass as well? The salmon is robust and the accompanying lemon-fennel salad is just the sort of refreshing thing you need before a long flight. Sides of new potatoes and glazed carrots are just that. Carrots perhaps slightly underdone, but I don't mind them that way.
Two fish mains, carrots, spuds, water, a coke, and service. 50 quid mate. Come on hurry up, the meter is still running.
Its nice to have something decent - very decent - to eat at the airport (I prefer to avoid those sushi bars with the men in Navy blazers and perma-tanned ladies), but at quids fifty for two to sit in a restaurant designed by some sort of Top Gun fetishist is a bit over the top. Its no wonder the place was empty. They do some more reasonably priced snacks which might please the daytime punters in search of a sandwich and a little bit of Gordon Ramsay kudos, but the prices are still going to keep out the masses. Maybe thats the idea.
One other thing: This isn't the restaurant's fault, but due to security regulations you're given miniature cutlery to use. This is in case you steal a knife and go beserk in the aeroplane cabin. Most people can probably manage with the mini-eating irons provided, but unfortunately my hands are a touch on the agricultural side, and I struggled like a monkey learning to use chopsticks.
Anyhow, seating and service is swift because Mrs Jiffler and I are the only customers in the whole restaurant. OK, T5 is quiet tonight, but come on? There are two flights leaving for Hong Kong, and another for Moscow. Flights packed with high rollers who might easily drop some cash Chez Ramsay. I feel an episode of kitchen nightmares coming on.
Water (no tap offered) comes fast, as does food. Superfast, which is ideal as we end up pegging it for the flight anyway (nobody told us about the poxy monorail thing). Both of us take a fish main, and thanks to the wonders of moleskine notebooks I can report:
Mrs Jiffler:
Seared Loch Duart salmon, lemon and fennel
Jiffler:
Steamed wild seabass, asparagus, samphire and lemongrass nage
Yes, thats right, nage. Go here for a description of what a la nage is. I looked around to check that we hadn't suddenly entered a timewarp in Terminal 5 and been transported back to some sort of 80's restaurant hell where chefs use opaque foreign language terms in order to appear imaginative. No, we're still surrounded by overdesigned aviation chic, so we must be in some noughties restaurant hell designed by cretinous architects from New York. Phew.
Its good though, the fish. The nage is actually pretty more-ish and its a pleasure to have a bit of samphire on the plate. Do I detect a hint of basil in that sea bass as well? The salmon is robust and the accompanying lemon-fennel salad is just the sort of refreshing thing you need before a long flight. Sides of new potatoes and glazed carrots are just that. Carrots perhaps slightly underdone, but I don't mind them that way.
Two fish mains, carrots, spuds, water, a coke, and service. 50 quid mate. Come on hurry up, the meter is still running.
Its nice to have something decent - very decent - to eat at the airport (I prefer to avoid those sushi bars with the men in Navy blazers and perma-tanned ladies), but at quids fifty for two to sit in a restaurant designed by some sort of Top Gun fetishist is a bit over the top. Its no wonder the place was empty. They do some more reasonably priced snacks which might please the daytime punters in search of a sandwich and a little bit of Gordon Ramsay kudos, but the prices are still going to keep out the masses. Maybe thats the idea.
One other thing: This isn't the restaurant's fault, but due to security regulations you're given miniature cutlery to use. This is in case you steal a knife and go beserk in the aeroplane cabin. Most people can probably manage with the mini-eating irons provided, but unfortunately my hands are a touch on the agricultural side, and I struggled like a monkey learning to use chopsticks.
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