I was there.
In a place where time takes the back seat in the racing vehicle of reality allowing for sensations and pleasures to take control and steer me gleefully masticating through life.
You could say it was just a restaurant, but that would be a gross and derogatory labeling for such an incredible place. Its called Prune, and it is no normal food establishment: it is gallery, standing as a concrete argument for food as an art form.
After waiting about an hour and a half for a seat to open up, I sat down already knowing what I’d order. To start, fresh ricotta served with roasted pine nuts, raspberries, figs, honey, and miniature doughnuts chased by a glass of mimosa. The flavors were simple, raw, and so well done. I was down to a few last delicious bites of my pile of fresh ricotta when my second course appeared, the “Youth Hostel Breakfast.” It consisted of things I have never seen before and therefore wanted to try.
A few moments after I received my dish I realized that my mimosa would not do. I switched to a locally brewed toasted lager to go along with my splay of flavors. I spent a good hour on this plate, slowly enjoying as many different food combinations and pairings as I could think of. I would try a bite with the cheese, and then try a bite without but then with lemon juice and a sprig of parsley. It had to have been the most entertaining meal that I can remember making my experience an actual party of one. Just me and the food, having a blast.
When the waitress saw that I was finally done (indicated by my completely crumbless plate), she cleared my table and complimented me for my eating style “you did it right,” she told me, “you took your time.” And I did. And it was wonderful.
(The bill was delivered with licorice digestifs, brilliant touch. Whats more is that the candies were designed like euros… like what you’d leave as a tip in Europe. Five euros total Clever!)