From the High St. to the High Table

At the stroke of 7:30, the bell tolled. We stood. Grace was said, and by 7:31, the first course was served.

Such is the precision of Formal Hall at Brasenose College.

For most meals at Oxford colleges, cafeteria style is king.

Halls serve breakfast and lunch on weekdays and informal dinner each evening which regularly pitches cafeteria style hot dish options (like chicken, or burgers, or fish), a "salad bar" (which refers to a bowl of salad, and a few containers of tomatoes and cucumbers) and then a selection of cold or hot side items (potatoes, veggies, 'chips' etc.) plus dessert- which has unfailingly been "pudding"- a cake of some variation smothered by a copious quantity of pudding (custard) ... somehow this dessert has mastered the art of simultaneously appearing amazing and appalling.

Thrice weekly, my college has Formal Hall, when students and their tutors are served from a set menu (which has been SPECTACULAR fare each time I've checked), channeling Harry Potter in formal gowns (more Harry than Ron for the record).

During my dinner, I sat in Brasenose’s Great Hall, complete with portraiture of Principal’s past, major donors (of the past 500 years), and assorted dignitaries, with the crest proudly displayed above the High Table, and a John Singleton Copley painting hanging on a side wall. My table included three Australian graduate research students affiliated with both my college and with a graduate college on the other side of Oxford. This incredibly enjoyable two hour meal included Butternut and Beef Tomato Soup, Roasted Supreme of Guinea Fowl with Thyme and Garlic Veloute, Roast Potatoes, and a spectacular Strawberry Tart with Pouring Cream.

The art of pouring your cream seems to be a lifelong journey. Some students purposefully douse their tarts with said cream, ignoring the delicacies of the art form, simply indulging in the deliciousness. Other students pool it on their plates allowing their tart to become a boat in a sea of cream. Still more students, the true gastro-artisans, attempt to balance the cream within their tart shell, pouring patiently, until the tart is trembling under the weight of a field of cream. This is the masterpiece of a Strawberry Tart delicately drenched. Regardless of process, the taste is phenomenal. But try to resist the urge to simply stick your spoon into the silver carafe of cream. This would not be acceptable.

Of course, our meal also included great quantities of laughter, restaurant recommendations (apparently 1,000 Miles to Delhi serves the best Indian food within city limits), declarations of the positives of football, descriptions of tennis real, and a technical translation of how to play cricket. We all agreed that you have to be born into the Empire to actually appreciate overs, stumps and run outs.

From the high table to high bounce...

ej

Sunday, Brasenose Formal Hall