Heston Blumenthal's Fat Duck in Melbourne: wonderful but there's no Wizard in Oz

Heston Blumenthal is the name, face and essence of his restaurant the Fat Duck and its unique food offering. So, when you’re told that Heston is moving his entire restaurant, including all staff and even the actual cutlery, from London to Melbourne for six months, you naturally expect the great man to be in attendance.

Blumenthal was overseas on the day of my visit to the Fat Duck. This is very disappointing. Call me naive, but I want the man in the kitchen, working the room and sitting at my table listening to my stories. Him not being there is like going to see the Rolling Stones and being told on arrival that Jon Stevens is filling in for Mick Jagger, who couldn’t make it tonight. We paid to see you, Heston, at your restaurant – so you should be there.

A sitting at Blumenthal’s restaurant in Crown Casino costs $525 for the 14 courses of food, with alcohol extra. We didn’t elect to go with the recommended matched wines. Instead, we drank my selection of bottles of local champagne, riesling and pinot noir with a couple of margaritas chucked in for good measure. Drinks cost us an additional $220 a person.

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So was it worth it?

I thought dining at the Fat Duck was a brilliant once-in-a-lifetime experience that was unforgettable and worth the considerable investment. I assure you that if I hadn’t spent that $750-odd on lunch this week, I definitely wouldn’t have $750 in my savings account at the end of the year. All your money always goes. I’m glad it went this way.

The restaurant is fantastic in that you feel like you’re dining almost alone. There appears to be only about a dozen tables and they are all very roomy (four people could have easily fitted on the two-person couch I was on) and tables face in different directions so you feel as you’re the only ones there.

And the service is brilliant. Dozens of staff are all over you in a friendly, informed and tolerant fashion. They need to be tolerant because – let’s face it – after six hours we were all blind drunk.

Our table was the one table chosen for a tour of the kitchen, which was very shiny, very quiet and full of people working diligently in their own identified workstations.

But not seeing Blumenthal in the kitchen or out on the floor is like winning the golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory and being informed that Mr Wonka is having the day off.

When I asked the head waiter where Blumenthal was, he said: “Sorry, he has been called back to London for a short period.” Devastated!

But purists will argue it should all be about the food, not the name. So how was it? From 12.30pm to 6.30pm we ate:

Aerated beetroot

Tiny. Kind of like a savoury malteser. Delicious.

Nitro poached apertifs

I had the vodka, lime and soda. Basically, an ice-cold meringue that tasted like the drink. You ripper!

Red cabbage gazpacho with Pommery grain mustard ice cream

Small and tasty and inverting the concept of dessert timing. Pretty much like nothing else I have ever tasted.

Savoury lollies: waldorf rocket, salmon twister and feast

Small icy-pole sticks with savoury tastes. The mini Golden Gaytime tasted like duck liver pate. More gimmick than rewarding for me. Wouldn’t have minded a real Golden Gaytime, actually.

Jelly of quail, marron cream with caviar sorbet, oak moss and truffle toast

My friends loved this. Thought it was amazeballs. Too rich for my tastes. I am too pedestrian for truffles. Pearls before swine, I’m afraid.

Snail porridge with Joselito ham and shaved fennel

Am I on I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here? Tasted like mushroom to me. Was more flavoursome than expected.

Roast marron with shiitake, confit kombu and sea lettuce

Marron (WA crayfish, I believe) was sumptuous. There was just too much going on for me in all the surrounding strong flavours. I don’t need a dozen competing flavours. Just saying.

Mad Hatter’s tea party: mock turtle soup, pocket watch and toast sandwich

Nice theatre with the golden fob watch dissolving in your tea. Nothing special to taste, I thought.

Sound of the sea

They made you put on earphones and listen to sea sounds while eating a huge plate of mixed raw seafood. Huge plate of food. Personally, I was hoping we were going to be played Black Sabbath’s War Pigs for a real surprise.

Salmon poached in a liquorice gel with endive, vanilla mayonnaise and golden trout roe

It was at this stage that my dining companion Matt Healy said: “That’s enough, I’m done. Too full. Just stop.” I soldiered on. For Australia.

Lamb with cucumber, green pepper and caraway

Absolutely sensational. Of course you can’t screw up with lamb. Very small serving, I thought. Maybe I just wanted more because it was that good.

Hot and iced tea

Bizarre drink of tea that was … simultaneously hot and cold. Like the Harold Holt public swimming pool sometimes …

Botrytis cinerea

A fancy mushroom dish. Mushrooms are pretty bloody good, let’s face it.

The not-so-full English breakfast

Serving breakfast at dessert time is radical, as they say. By this stage I was getting pretty drunk, so anything that came close to bacon and eggs was most welcome. It also looked as pretty as a Renoir painting.

Whisky wine gums

Bring it on.

Like a kid in a sweet shop

And, finally, a selection of tasty individual treats that I hoovered down.

So, that’s it, a six-hour journey that commences at the Fat Duck and concludes with you feeling like a fat schmuck.

The service and the food are so relentlessly delivered that, unlike a normal dining experience, you don’t have time to engage in long conversations and stories. The food and the restaurant demand your attention from start to finish. (Ideal for anyone in a loveless relationship who doesn’t want to talk to his or her partner.)

Lunch at the Fat Duck was a totally different experience that was worth the high cost. I loved the magic, just a pity that the magician had disappeared.