I have eaten a lot of food in my time (as mean-spirited readers are wont to tell me in the Facebook comments of my stories on budget items), but I am not a connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, it took me three times to spell ‘connoisseur’ in that sentence and I also had to Google it to check it was the correct term, so badly informed am I on fine dining.
So when the Michelin guide came out last week, and Birmingham kept hold of its five stars, our neighbours over in Lichfield nabbing one of their own for the first time, I had to wonder what all the fuss was about. Tiny plates of tiny food for astronomical prices, that was my thinking.
I’ve never grown up thinking of food as anything other than fuel to get through the day. I grew up on free school meals (chips and gravy, for the most part). As an adult, celebratory meals out are spent at Toby Carvery, where the all-you-can-eat roasters fill all of my requirements for a happy time.
But being that I have a new years resolution to be more intrepid and a desire to truly appreciate everything that Birmingham has to offer, I decided to give Michelin dining a go. Could it ever really be worth the expenditure? I thought, rather I find out than you go and be £150 down and disappointed. So I called.
I was nervous. A foodie friend of mine had recommended Adams. “It’s close to two Michelin stars,” she’d said, “so they mean business.”
I rang and secured a table – I’d expected weeks and weeks of waiting but they got me in for two days time. Score.
Though it didn’t feel like a score. I felt really apprehensive. I don’t have anything posh to wear and I didn’t know any of the rules, like what order you use your cutlery in. Heck. Heck. Heck.
But the day soon came and I put on my favourite outfit – a £7.50 “Freddie Krueger” T-shirt and some £10 black leggings – and set off to Adams. It’s an unassuming spot, given how lauded it is, opposite Purecraft where I’d previously swilled pints.
The restaurant
(Image: Kirsty Bosley)
Man, did I feel posh from the get go. Someone took my coat and asked me if I fancied a drink at the bar before being seen to my table. I made straight for the dining room.
The restaurant itself was beautiful, fairly formal but with no crisp table cloths to be seen. I was shown to a table with one chair and noted what a lovely touch that was. An empty chair can be a bit depressing when you’re alone. It indicates that someone could be there, but they’re not. Adams just got rid of it entirely.
It was the first of dozens of sweet little gestures that made me feel like the most cherished person in the gaff. The second came almost immediately. Two menus showing only the vegetarian food options – they’d noted it down when I called and made sure that I didn’t even have to think about it, or remind them. I never get that service in Nandos, and I’ve been there a million times.
My options were pretty plentiful. Three courses for £45, five for £65 or the whole bloody menu for £110. Of course, it wasn’t called ‘the whole bloody menu’, it was called TASTING and I loved the sound of trying everything, so I chose that.
Then I ordered a £14 white peach Bellini on the recommendation of the nice lady who brought over the menu, with the idea being that a) a bit of booze would make me feel less uptight and b) it had prosecco in and that made me feel posh.
So far, so absolutely fantastic.
The food
(Image: Kirsty Bosley)
So the tasting menu featured seven dishes (crikey) and that