Blank Doll eats dinner.

Having been depressed for the past two days, Mummy has very kindly brought me to the Raffles Grill at Raffles Hotel to have dinner there. It was brilliant, almost sublimal though not quite there yet. Unfortunately, I did not get to eat the duck liver and the tenderloin but I had the privilege of partaking in their seafood degustation which was excellent.

Cocktails first. I had a Bellini. There is something so wonderful about being able to order a cocktail by name without looking at the cocktail list and then the waitress taking note with a smile. The assumption that they can provide you with almost anything you may want to eat or drink is something you have to experience yourself. They give you this chilled glass, pour a measure of peach liquor from a little bottle and then comes the bubbly- a very rich, smooth Tattinger no less. I would have ordered three more if not for the fact that I didn't really want to get drunk with Mummy there and falling over the table before food was served is so not glam.

Amuse bouche was ok. I liked the soup alot though. It was this froth of green pea which had a nice, deep flavour to it with little lobster ravioli in it. For a little cocktail glass-ful of it, the intensity of flavour was really surprising.

Entree was this salmon tartare marinated most beautifully with an aspic of scampi, the two complementing one another so brilliantly and made even more so with the trail of creme fraiche and caviar by the side. Mummy really liked this dish.

Then came the oysters. Oysters go so well with champagne, seriously. There were the sweeter American oysters as well as the salty ones from France. At the centre was this luscious gem so much larger than the rest and it was so fresh, all that essence of the sea spilling out in a bite.

Now this dish, my sister will kill me for not being there. A pot of seared scallops (the size of which may be approximiated by making a circle with the thumb and index finger with a thickness of at least an inch) braised with cepes and a voluptuous butter sauce. It went very well indeed with the olive bread which was studded with little bits of olive and smelt really good.

The piece de resistance was the lobster dish of course. A whole lobster prepared in three different styles. The body simply basted in its own juices, the claw served cold while the remaining bits chopped and formed into a disk of orgasmic deliciousness with some sort of pumpkin cream. It must be disturbing to see me eat when I enjoy my food so much.

Then the dessert. Roasted fruits slathered in a champagne sabayon and then baked once more. The fruits melted in your mouth, yielding with caramel sweetness yet bursting into that last note of tartness as if in defiance. The champagne was a nice touch to the sabayon as compared to the usual white wine that is customarily used, its taste richer, its colour deeper.

With tea, the meal ended. Give me food this good over sex any day. No wonder dear Kipling was so enamoured of the food at Raffles.

C'est tout.