Well, I successfully infiltrated last night's Catey awards at the Grosvenor House hotel in London, and what a bash it was. The evening's presenter, Fiona Bruce, was as foxy as ever and violin wunderkind Nicola Benedetti wowed the audience - not just with her musical talents. Quite a few middle-aged men were left looking rather flushed under their wing collars. My mole tells me that Nicola does, in fact, have catering industry connections. Apparently her father, Gio, invented the automatic clingfilm dispenser. Top that.
But what about the gossip? Well, apart from Gordon Ramsay missing his plane, there were several other no-shows, including the two Adams (Byatt and Oates) from London's Thyme restaurant. Word is, their transfer from London to Covent Garden proved riskier than even they thought. My spies also tell me that restaurant idols Annie and Germain Schwab have finally sold their gaffe - Winteringham Fields.
Compass Group insiders are thoroughly fed up with "all the school meals stuff" (don't mention Turkey Twizzlers or they'll throttle you) and some of the operations boys are none too convinced that their corporate masters can deliver on all their promises to the City. Looks like another set of results "at the lower end of market expectations".
I was well impressed, though, with Fiona Bruce. She waded into Jacques Chirac after his comments that Britain has the worst cuisine in the world apart from Finland, relating how her worst restaurant experience was as a student in Paris when the waiter used a dirty floorcloth to wipe her plate. Her French boyfriend, she said, was more experienced in things culinary than she was. "In fact, he was more experienced in lots of things than I was. It was a good year." Grrrr. She also related how her most embarrassing moment came during a news bulletin when she mixed up the name of a guy who'd just mown down several pedestrians at a bus stop. His name? Keith Hunt. Strange that one hasn't made its way onto It'll Be Alright on the Night.
I'm going to crawl back under the sink now and nurse my hangover. If any other titbits suddenly pop into my addled brain, I'll dump them here later.
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