Cath and I went to the Vineyard at Stockcross yesterday and last night. We were upgraded on arrival to a larger, nicer suite (and the basic suite I'd ordered wasn't all that dilapidated to start with), because it was for Cath's birthday. We spent the afternoon in the spa, and ate at the restaurant in the evening. I don't write often about food, but the meal we had last night was spectacular (as you would expect at a 2 Michelin . Started with scallops, which were served with with an artichoke puree, watercress and hazelnuts - but the really amazing part was a chicken skin crisp that is one of the cleverest ideas I've ever had on a plate. Then I had turbot with pork belly and a langoustine (and other little bits like lemongrass puree and a ginger foam), which was similarly excellent, and proved conclusively that fish and pig co-exist. The desert was called a hazulnut sponge, but it was actually three small squares of sponge, with a chocolate and hazelnut ice cream topping, and two strips of caramel.

I record all this now, because it will be good to look back, in a couple years, on the exact day when food stopped being satisfying, by comparison. Damn you, Executive Chef John Campbell. DAMN YOU.

Speaking of Mr Campbell, Cath bumped into him on the way out of the restaurant, looking for the ladies room. He came across, said hello and took her on a tour of the kitchens. All the while, I sat in the bar, with a drink, wondering what was taking so long. Please see aforementioned damnation.