le voracity.

Know Oxfork? Central Oxford's most famous underground supper club? We got in touch in them. 

We: Can we have an exclusive event for our department? Promise we'll bring at least 15 people. They: Sure. We do themed dinners. What's your theme going to be? We: ....... One second.

... chair swiveled to face work colleagues..

We: Oxfork. Gastronomic Event. Need ideas for themed dinner. Work Colleagues: We have none. Just give us good food. We: Wow, that's helpful. Oh, hi Oxfork, it's us. We'll go for 'Parisian Chic'.

They sent us a tentative French menu.

We weren't impressed.

And that's because 1) we didn't really know what French food is all about (we're very informed about the desserts though), and 2) we were used to reading complicated menus which we considered 'impressive' and 'amazing' and 'innovative', just because they throw in names of the spices used in the dishes.

For enlightenment, we tied our shoe laces and embarked on a precarious journey across Roosevelt Drive, through the narrow opening between thorny prickly bushes that greeted us once we narrowly escaped getting flattened by massive trucks carrying scientific consumables and hordes of chavs on bikes. We dashed through the Carpark of Predictable Events to avoid getting stopped by suspicious or insane-looking hospital visitors and fellow work colleagues who will otherwise reluctantly greet you, and panted up the massive hill that will finally lead us to the meister, the guide, the fountain of knowledge for Good French Food: le Grand Frère!

Representative picture of le Grand Frere.

We: This is the menu. Is it not bland and boring? Yes, of course, it is. But how do we tell them diplomatically, tactfully and non-offensively, as it is not in our nature to be nice? Le Grand Frère: Zis is a very good menu! The dishes are Parisian. What is ze problem? We: Well, it just sounds really boring. Have a look at the menu of this other random underground supper club in London we've been following. They list all the ingredients in their dishes as if those are special ingredients that would not normally be there anyway. Then they throw in expensive-sounding stuff like truffles. We are thus deceived into thinking that the menu is very interesting and become convinced we should go to the dinner party. But this Oxfork menu? There is nothing 'complicated' about the dishes. We remain non-tantalised. Le Grand Frère: No, no. With French cuisine, ze dishes might sound simple, but it's very difficult to make very good simple dishes. Ze cooking techniques have to be advanced, and ze ingredients have to be fresh and of good quality. We: Oh, how interesting. Witness our faces shining with enlightenment. Very well. We accept this menu and we will see how they fare.

On the 20th of May, we visited Oxfork in their homes. We felt much gratitude that Oxfork opened their homes for us and even hired a waitress all the way from London to help out with the event.

Below are some shit quality pictures we managed to take before our phone flipped us off and committed seppuku with a smirk.

Le croque monsieur.

Trimmings for poule a pot. And one of the founders of Oxfork.

  French onion soup with gruyere crouton.

Condiments in cute repositories.

Poule au pot with spring vegetables and alioli.

The vegetarian alternative. Some sort of herby gratin.

Dark chocolate mousse and pâte sucrée biscuits.

Price: £25.00 per person, not including service charge.

Here's a run-down:

Food quality: Average, but we were pleased to be introduced to French onion soup.

Ambience: Low reddish lighting, lots of bookcases with filled with lots of cook books; furniture and tableware are bits and bops from everywhere; not our kind of ambience but it's different and that's good.

Service: Oxfork replies fast via e-mails most times and in person, they are gracious. They get bonus points for agreeing to doggybag food for a work colleague who thought she couldn't turn up, and extra bonus points for waiting an extra 30 minutes for us to get wine from the co-op.

Why you should have an Oxfork event: It's a unique experience? You might impress some of your work colleagues like we did? Variety is the spice of life?

Overall: 3 out 5.

We left Oxfork feeling the usual emotions: relieved that it wasn't a disaster. Le Grand Frere on the other hand was enraged. "That wasn't French food! And the poule au pot wasn't poule au pot! It was chicken tagine!"

The next day, he sent an e-mail out:

"I would like to invite all of you for a REAL French dinner or lunch this week end."

Who are we to say no?

Sans commentaire.

Table laid out. Guess what's for starters?

The most delicious foie gras we've ever had. Absolutely sublime. We would say we tasted paradise at each bite and chew, but paradise (according to the adverts) is a posh brothel surrounded by rivers of milk and honey, i.e. terribly boring and dull. We were delighted to learn that this foie gras was homemade; apparently le Grand Frere's mother gavages geese and ducks in her past time. We had seconds and thirds and fourths, and we would have had fifths and sixths and sevenths and eights and ninths, but more dishes awaited us.

Not just any dishes. Autoclaved dishes. Impressive indeed.

Noix de st jacques. Flavoursome. Texture was just right. Scallops are so loveable. We demolished our plates and then remembered that we forgot to take a picture. Thankfully, our neighbour - more restrained in dining manners - offered her plate for photography.

Pintade aux pommes and gratin dauphinois.

Our first time with a guinea fowl. It was a special moment.....

Baked and soft granny apples accompanied our bird. Interesting, but we could do without it.

Gratin? Yeah, okay. Gratin + nutmeg? Now we're talking.

Not three, not four, but five French cheeses. Taste the difference, biaaatttch.

And last...... but not least..........

The most amazing tarte au citron. It was divine. Words cannot describe how. It is an experience that must be lived. To write about it would be to do it injustice. We shed many tears, felt humbled and repentant, and made the decision to become better human beings.

Now the run-down:

Food: It started with paradise and ended with divine love.

Ambience: Newly renovated house and very nice.

Service: Our hosts made sure everything was perfect and that guests were comfortable. They even drove us from and back to Oxford. Such kindness and generosity can move mountains and trigger dormant volcanoes to erupt. We even had doggybags for foie gras and tarte au citron to relive the experience the next day. Excuse us while we dab our eyes and blow our noses.

Verdict: Best dinner party ever. The BEST ever.

So, this blog post is to thank Oxfork for introducing us to French cuisine and for igniting such anger in the pits of le Grand Frere's belly that he decided to host this most amazing dinner party just to prove his point. We should also mention that le Grand Frere did not take the day off and spent only 3 hours to prepare and cook everything and thus, he is indeed our hero.

Merci beaucoup, le Grand Frere.

Palm Court, The Langham Hotel, 1c Portland Place, Regent Street, W1B 1JAT. http://www.palm-court.co.uk/ Afternoon tea seatings are 1400, 1430, 1630 and 1700.

Let me begin by saying that The Langham Hotel was the winner of The Tea Guild's Top London Afternoon Tea 2010, purportedly "the OSCARS of the tea world" according to the web site.

Now let me ask you: why do people do this? A claim like that clearly is an invitation for the whole world to gather its ruthless energy of anal-retention to CRUSH YOU and shove your statement down your throat. "OSCARS, my bloody ass," sneers the world, "Let's see how you measure up to your words!"

So the inevitable happened. I cracked my knuckles and let the bitch took over.

Reservations: Take heed and book early. We had to book two months in advance for a table, and each seating is two hours long. Thanks to OpenTable, booking was a breeze. However, the maximum number of people you can book with OpenTable is 6. We had eight people interested so we booked a table for 6 with OpenTable, rang The Langham and changed our booking to eight. Easy breezy.

Le menu: Our afternoon tea in Langham was shortly after the royal wedding so the classic afternoon tea menu (previously known as Wonderland Afternoon Tea) had a royal wedding theme for the cakes/patisseries (and became known as Royal Tea). Now, you can look at this positively or negatively. My way (and only way) of looking at this positively is that, yes, it is wonderful that there is a dynamic relationship between the afternoon tea menu and what is happening in the world. This means I will be expecting to see very soon cakes and patisseries depicting the Middle Eastern crisis with all its flambé glory. Heck, bring that blowtorch to the table and caramelise Gaddafi's sugar-speckled face on my custard. Needless to say, on that day, we didn't take it positively. Royal wedding? Heads shook and everyone displayed put-off expressions and skipped to the next page.

High Tea was the Langham's second afternoon tea menu on offer. It retained its name despite its patisseries also being royally themed. We were unimpressed. And this time, the scones had disappeared from the menu to be replaced with cold canapés and friggin' soup of the day. How could this happen? Scones are irreplaceable. Did they stop teaching this in kindergarten?!

We were left with only one choice: the more expensive choice (by well, £6.00): The Bijoux Afternoon Tea! Scones, check. Non-royally themed cakes, check. Wa-hey, they have sandwiches too, but more posh and unusual than those from the previous two menus. We were sold.

Le Menu Part II: Welcome to part II of the menu. So The Langham is not allowed to be human, it is not allowed to screw up! For cripes sake, it is the receiver of the "OSCARS of the tea world!" So tell me, explain to me, why did you give half of us le menu, all posh and gold with pages made of caressable silk, that had half of the information missing from the full menu? One of us who received this half-menu thought that that was all there is to it and decided to go online via his android phone to find the menu on the web site! I was so traumatised. Even the memory of this saddens me. I must go for emotional healing.

Ambience: Before we proceed to the contents of the menu, let's talk about ambience. At first glance, it seems very feminine, what with the golden spiral wall designs reminiscent of fireworks, the pretty lights that look like thick luminous strings dangling in the air - à la hanging plants with limp diamond-studded branches, then there's the faded pastel pink colour that seemed to act as the alpha female: other colours follow her lead with no betas rising to the challenge. The furnitures were comfortable, slightly regal, more masculine than the walls, nicely arranged.

Overall, the ambience was harmonious but mainly adequate; nothing special, only slightly notable; entirely non-intrusive to the senses, determined to remain as a backdrop and suspiciously nothing more. In other words, it is saying to you: "Yes, you are in a posh hotel with the typical posh chandeliers and huge glistening vases bursting with freshly-picked roses. Do we not look fabulously expensive?"

Most of the guests are (or appeared to be) women but you would expect that. We also had a pianist who played with both his fingers and facial expressions. Pleasurable to the ear, amusing to the eye.

Now let's get crackin'.

Amuse-bouche:

This is where I fail as a food-blogger: I can't remember what the name of the amuse-bouche is. I'm going to crank my memory and guess from the picture: rhubarb gelée atop champagne jelly studded with edible gold flakes that look fancy rich but are bankrupt with taste.

Verdict? Urgh, champagne! No, let me take my unrefined honesty back. If the alcohol hadn't burned my tongue, I would say that it was mildly sweet, fresh, and something like a palate cleanser. In conclusion, my taste buds were not only amused, they were also cleansed and sterilised. Such generosity in treatment is scarce these days.

Speciality sandwiches:

And they are: duck egg mayonnaise with mustard cress, atlantic prawns with fennel and crème fraîche, foie gras and truffle parfait, smoked scottish salmon with horseradish and capers, and cream cheese with piquillo pepper and black onion seed.

Excellent display, excellent variety. Most of the sandwiches were good and tasty. I liked that the sandwiches were served on different types of breads e.g. choux pastry, hard crunchy bagel, rolls and wraps. The choux pastry was especially innovative, even if the filling (cream cheese/piquillo pepper/black onion seed) failed to excite. As for the--

Right, I'm tired of this. Let's cut the bullshit and get to it. I was totally uninspired. Like, excuse me? This kind of quality does not exceed that of Marks and Spencer sandwich platters. Just because you throw in a dollop of foie gras, scatter some caviar, make mayonnaise with duck egg, dice your salmon and shape it into a form of a walnut along with other gooey ingredients and perch it on a hard bagel right beside some fancy molecular gastronomy-esque food foam, it's still Marks and Spencers quality. 'Nuff said. Next.

Scones:

Here, The Langham got it right. Warm scones. Scones should always be served warm and freshly baked. There were three types of scones: plain, raisins and chocolate. They were soft and moist. The texture was good. The scones were adequate. The clotted cream was not adequate. The clotted cream was too buttery and not very creamy and not thick and not glossy. The clotted cream failed me. I did not touch the jam but those who did did not complain so maybe the jam was also adequate.

Cakes/patisseries:

Yes, this is the whole thing. Except for that mind-blowing piece of chocolate cake, everything else was gaudy and sickeningly sweet in presentation and average in taste. This style of presentation is appropriate only for baby shower parties. I felt very out-of-place and so became very sad.

Le sigh. You can cover a slice of victoria sponge in fondant and strategically embed two silver balls somewhere at the top for a sparkly and endearing effect, but a victoria sponge remains a victoria sponge, and an average victoria sponge remains an average victoria sponge. Is thou a man of understanding?!

Babies, you are pretty but you ain't my cuppa tea.

Baby......... I don't know what all your layers are made of, but when you melt in my mouth, I tasted heaven! I'll renounce my sins for you, baby, just keep topping up my plate~~ <3

I'll desist with the 'baby' crap. Anyway, I thought I'd show you the macaron with its many shades of pink. Support breast cancer research, people. Give me YOUR MONEY.

Tea selection:

Tea selection was well impressive and extensive. The descriptions on the menu were sufficient and helpful. Thankfully, they were all loose leaves, and accompanied with a strainer. I cannot stress how important this is, at least to my mental well-being. I have been disappointed many times when tea pots containing bags of tea were served during an afternoon tea setting. And I have suppressed the urge to drop an expletive or several when pots of loose leaved teas were served without strainers. This time, it was done as it should be done.

That's The Langham blend. Rose, hibiscus and other goodies. Light and refreshing.

A plus point to this experience is that we were not limited to one type of tea throughout our afternoon tea experience; we were allowed to try out the different blends, or to change teas to suit whatever's next on the menu, whether savoury or sweet or a different kind of sweet. It might be worth noting that not every kind of tea listed on the menu is included in the Bijoux Afternoon Tea without charge. Some teas will incur a £3.50, £5.00 or £10.00 surcharge. We avoided those, unconvinced and untempted.

A very severe minus point is that we were not served an extra pot of hot water. No, I do not need to ask for this. You, with your Best Afternoon Tea 2010 award should instinctively know this fundamental thing. Did you fill the pot to the brim with loose tea leaves? Oui. When the tea leaves become infused with hot water, how long will it take to overbrew? Si, correct, not very long. And when the guest pours himself a cup of tea, will the volume in the teapot decrease? Yes. And then what do you think will happen? The tea will become stronger in a shorter period of time. Good. Can I have an extra pot of hot water please?

Service and overall experience:

The Palm Court is understaffed. Waitresses, clad in pink and gold matching the interior decoration, were constantly rushing around, clanging tea saucers on the table after refilling the tea cups (NO!!! DO NOT DO THIS, BITCHES!! IF YOU WANT TO MAKE SOME NOISE, GO TO THE CHURCH TOWER AND RING SOME BELLS!!!), and ignoring my attention-seeking hand during many urgent moments when attention was sorely and desperately needed. I hope they get a good wage.

When they do give me their attention, they were gracious and courteous and they gave me everything I wanted. More sandwiches? No problem. More scones? Here you are. More cakes? Sure, I will be right back. Can I doggybag some of the patisserie? Absolutely. And for that, they are amazing. I love places that do doggybags.

The total bill with 12.5% service charge was £51.75 per person. I think I paid for what I got but I felt uneasy when I left the place. So unsatisfied. Why? Why do I feel this way?

Because it felt like a cold business transaction.

Where is the love, motherfuckers? Where is the love?

Ah, my parched heart.

As we were leaving, they presented us with a small gift.

Monthly bake-offs take place in a certain department (coughOncologycough) in the University of Oxford. There are two permanent participants and everyone else is a judge. Judges taste the entries and cast their votes. At the end of the day, a non-participant counts the votes and the winner avoids severe humiliation.

It is a total pain in the arse.

As a permanent participant whose ultimate dream is to be lazy and do flip-all without guilt, I find myself wondering why, WHY do I bring this upon myself. Let me remind my forgetful self why: anything for love and togetherness, especially in the setting of food.

May's bake-off theme: Seasonal ingredients.

Entry of yours truly: Vanilla bean buttermilk panna cotta with rhubarb mousse and rosewater-roasted strawberries. (Spring ingredients are rhubarb and strawberries)

Entry of competitor (aka TTT): "Spring" rolls: crepes filled with whipped cream and raspberries, blackberries and blueberries. (Spring ingredient is blackberry; summer ingredients are raspberries and blueberries)

This month's bake-off was special. See, the department is split between two buildings, and normally our bake-offs take place in only one building. This time, we split everything into two and divided the entries between buildings. 40 people voted in total! Woo!

I enjoyed getting feedback from the judges. Most judges had a hard time deciding which to vote - they enjoyed both entries, which is always relieving. It's all about customer satisfaction at the end of the day. Some people said they think we should have crepes filled with panna cotta. One person said she liked both entries but voted for the panna cotta because it was more unusual. Another judge said he thought one had more potential but the other had better execution, so voted for the latter. And another one said he voted for the entry which was more aromatic and which left an imprint in his mouth, instead of completely disappearing once swallowed.

Winner: Ha! (23-17)

2011 results so far: Tied. 1-1.

Theme of next bake-off: Molecular gastronomy.

Nope, does not sound easy at all.

As Mother Teresa says, "Life is a challenge, meet it."

The Black Boy. 91 Old High Street, Oxford, OX3 9HT. http://www.theblackboy.uk.com/ (Opening times: Tue-Sat 12pm-3pm, 6pm-9:30pm)

À la carte. Starter: Tomato and Basil Soup. £5.95. Creamy and rich, bursting with... er, a strong flavour of tomatoes. It was as it should be (probably) but I didn't like it because I am as I should be. Mains: Crayfish risotto with broad beans. Recommended. Perfectly cooked. Ingredients linked together very well strangely because of the..... dill. I tremble at the unifying power of this herb. Genius. £11.95. Desserts: None. Shocking, I know, and I really feel like I should apologise. Still, you should order desserts at The Black Boy. I have never been disappointed with their desserts except for the portion size. They had honeycomb parfait. Honey-flippin-comb parfait, ladies and gentlemen. Such an attractive and delicious-sounding idea, which I must steal for future bake-offs. Desserts are usually priced at £5.95.

Ambience: Wonderful. Modern interior deco with fireplace. The garden is cute and pretty. They have jazz on Thursday nights. Very fun; resident jazz players are at home; totally chillaxed; they play whatever they want, whenever they want. Jazz here is more blues than jazz though but I feel no complaints welling up inside me.

Service: Good. Waiter friendlier than waitresses, but everything is elegant and prompt. Jug of iced tap water with slice of lemon, I doth approve with loth of approvalth.

Butter: I know, I know, why is this a category? Seriously though, the butter here is divine. Divineeeeeeee.

Overall (value-for-your-moneh!): The Black Boy is my favourite pub in the world because of the combination of ambience and food. It's about £25 for a three course meal without drinks but I don't care. 4/5.