Was so looking forward to this. The latest turning inside out of Bompas and Parr's incredible brains. This particular peek into their magnificent minds was terrifying.
A doctor first welcomed us to his dusty parlour, introduced his talking reindeer and declared I had too much black bile and Michael had too much phlegm.
For this, he prescribed a trip to an old wooden ship in a basement. Once we crossed the eel-infested swamp to reach it, I was presented with a remedy of fig with beetroot sauce and a spiced brandy cocktail and Michael was given the very medieval combination of crostini with lemon brandy.
We were then taken in a time capsule to the future, located on a roof terrace covered in string, where we were given a fois gras Ferrero Rocher ball and a brandy champagne cocktail that fizzed in your mouth, not your glass.
Next stop was the 50s, where we were treated to a delicious, calorie-free scratch 'n' sniff TV dinner.
Then, to remind ourselves of the crimes we had committed to our bodies, we were sent to have a bounce around in the insides of our stomachs.
Next, off on a stroll...
...to the iguanadon for dinner.
Naturally.
Downstairs again for the finale.
Jelly. On a giant rotating cake.
With whale vomit on the side.
Which wobbled pleasingly...
And was served with a generous quaffing of pretty much neat brandy
(watched suspiciously by a fellow food historian)...
...in a rennaissance setting filled with sugar sculptures in subtle shades of pastel...
...and a magic thumping table that wobbled your jelly to your own heartbeat.
And thus ended our fabulous adventure in foodieland.
Or did I just make that up?
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