All at Sea with Johnnie Mountain

Oh heck, poor Johnnie.  Yes, it would have been nice to see a bit of fish swimming in that sea of his but it was, nevertheless, a very nice sea.  I wonder if Heston's punters send his seaside recreation back because they 'just don't get it'?

I think Marcus did make some valid points - there was no place for smokiness if the main element was supposed to be the smell of the sea and if the gel was not a knock-out taste then there was no point in it being there.  Even if it did look lovely.

BUT Simon Rogan messed up with his toys more than Johnnie did.  At least Johnnie achieved what he set out to do with his molecular wizard's kit - his liquid became a perfect sand, his sea gelled just as he wanted it to.  Whereas Simon intended his poaching toy to raise the taste of  lobster to a height no-one had ever experienced before.  Even he admitted that he had failed on that point.  And he said he'd under-cuckooed his smudge of emulsion.  How come Marcus let Simon get away with it and yet told Johnnie he had messed up big time?

SO. . . bugger me, the razor clams were the ten out of ten winner; although I suspect they could have been substituted with a tasty scallop and then we would be looking at an eleven out of ten.

Come back Johnnie-gone-lately, you're a Great British Menu TV ratings dream come true.

Big Daddy Tabasco with two baby 'bascos

PS  The first time I was in Johnnie's apartment in Chalk Farm I snook into his kitchen to check out his fridge contents while he was having a slash.  Until that night I had been terrified of him coming round to mine and discovering I had a fridge devoid of any culinary wonders (my excuse being that my fridge was dedicated to the needs of my toddler daughter).  I need not have worried, Johnnie didn't even have any Tabasco for my half of the take-away Basilico pizza we were sharing.  Of course, being a working chef he had the valid excuse that he never ate at home.

The above picture shows the fabulous Tabasco miniatures which we found in Harvey Nichols in Manchester.  They fit perfectly into the lipstick-holder elastics of my handbag so I never need be caught short again.