The starter looked like something Vermeer would have wanted to capture in oils: lustrous beet red again a matt slate background, creamy goat’s cheese and that oh so delicately arranged salad that if food were apparel would be the ‘nonchalant’ silk scarf that nails the look.
In short, food you want to stare at. Food that gives rise to oohs and aahs, and the odd ‘I’m jealous!’ comment. I was jealous of everyone because it all looked so good, even if I can never get over that thing about ducks, gullets and feeding methods that others else seems only too well equipped to deal with, if the numbers going for foie gras were anything to go by. In my non-defence, though, can a meat-eater really be a kinder kind of cruel?
Weirdly (worryingly?), the vegetables looked so beautiful you wouldn’t be surprised to find out they were sentient, too.
Thank the heavens for work lunches on special occasions, in this case, the celebration of the life and work of a truly wonderful author, to bring you to places you don’t really belong. Like One Pico. You read about this place, where politicians throng (presumably just to make extra sure they stay right out of touch with the populus) and media types hob-nob. Or maybe that was the good old days.
Business is not looking slack here though, as this lunchtime trade showed.
You know the kind of place where the waiters know everything? They have this slightly elusive air of authority that not only makes them remember every small detail of your order, but makes you feel that they might also be privy to such information as your bank balance or favourite record. Even your recent lingering self-doubts. It’s the way they look at you – quietly all-knowing, all-seeing. That’s your One Pico variety of waiter. You don’t want parmesan in your risotto? He understands. You crave a deeper, more lasting sense of self-affirmation? He understands.
It’s too easy to cave at ‘delicious’ for food descriptions (I promise I won’t use ‘amazing’). But it just was goddamn delicious, every last morsel of starter, main and heart-breakingly small dessert that actually completely fills you up whilst stopping just short of causing you to identify with whales.
They’re not snobby about tap water, either.
It’s far from cheap, but it deserves to be – it does it all beautifully and it doesn’t make a fuss. I want to go back. Now. Somebody rich take me. Please. I’ll tell you loads of interesting gossip. Even if it’s made up it’ll be entertaining. And we can play a game of ‘what do you know about the depths of my soul?’ with one of the waiters. I’m sure they’d be up for it – after they’ve finished hypnotising you and downloading all the personal information from your brain before snapping their fingers with the words, ‘Be seated now. You will remember none of this.’
This review is the subjective opinion of a TripAdvisor member and not of TripAdvisor LLC.