The Michelin Meal

We were barely still standing after the week we'd just finished with our brash + boozy Aussies, but as the main chunk of them had left to begin their four days journey or whatever to head back to the bush, two of them still remained. I had no idea when I was booking them a table at one of the poshest diners in town, that we too would be joining them. We were all swaying + shivvering quite a lot and hallucinating a little bit but dosed up anyway+ ventured out into another world of some of the finest eating several hundred bucks can buy.

We were sitting having drinks and canapés I'll never be able to remember the name of when they came round with the menus. Amidst all the foie gras and shoulders of pigs and lambs I spotted the only vegetarian option - fourty two smackers for a plate of rice. I blanched and promptly closed the menu and resorted to another embarrassed swig of extortionate beer, twitching profusely and starting to sweat a little.

The Aussies however, began ordering bottles of the most exquisite wine I'd ever tasted, that was kept on the cool by our three waitresses that were tending to the table. Before I'd even taken final delicious sips from the immaculately polished heavy set glasses, I was getting refills from dreamy brown eyed hostesses and comforting encouragement from Jean the Aussie; "don't worry about the money, Inna, order what you want" And slowly, we all seemed to relax into this surreal and delicious treat world we'd found ourselves in.