Kat seems to have forgotten that it was I who told her about Le Manoir Aux Quat'Saisons, after a PR-type person (not for the restaurant, I hasten to add) informed me that they make amazing Sunday roasts entirely out of locally-sourced meat and vegetables.
However, I have recently discovered a more sinister side to organic food. On Sunday we went for lunch at our friends' house, where we sampled the vegetables that had been brought back from a parental garden in Wales. This included a disturbing conjoined carrot, with five twisted carrot-fingers growing from a sort of carrot-palm. It was similar to the gnarled right hand of The Elephant Man Joseph Merrick, and has haunted me a little ever since.
One benefit of the Chinese restaurant The Four Seasons is that at least the vegetables would be chopped into thin strips, utterly disimilar to the horrifically-deformed claw of a Victorian side show freak. But on the down side, I've already eaten there.
However, I'm intrigued by the Four O Nine in Clapham North. Apparently diners are required to buzz the doorbell then give their name before they are granted access, which is just how I imagine it works at the swingers' club up the road from our flat.
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