Memory is Everything

Memory is the most dominant of those influences, so what happens when we're served a plate that, for one reason or another, prevents us from drawing any useful comparison? Especially when that reason has nothing to do with flavour - it might be the way the dish is presented that baffles the brain, or even the serving vessel. For example, few people would relish drinking from a potty, albeit a new one. Obviously, a potty is not the easiest thing to drink from, but that's not the issue here - it's what the potty signifies that we find repellent.

So how easy is it to assess food when it is presented in an unfamiliar way, or when we have little with which to compare it? I had this dilemma at Juniper, in Altrincham (0161-929 4008), where Paul Kitching, a great chef, cooks from his heart and, to an extent, by the seat of his pants. We went as a family, and spent five hours over a memorable 45-course meal. What I found most fascinating was that the experience brought into question my own ability to make a judgment on what I was eating. But it was not the flavours or textures that made me do so. No, what made me question my judgment was that several dishes were plated up as if they were pictures, something I'd thought applicable only to young children's food. Take one course, served on a toothbrush alongside a mint-flavoured "mouthwash" - why should an adult be uncomfortable about eating a dish whose focal point is a toothbrush rather than a spoon; or, for that matter, one with a beetroot mayonnaise house on the plate?

I came away inspired. What if an image stimulated a mood change? Might a meal take the diner through a range of emotions by the way it looked alone? (After all, it seems common sense that a smiley-faced plate will not have the same effect as a sad-faced one.) Such questions are yet to be answered, but one thing is certain: our meal was in no way a joke. Of course, there was humour in the food, along with a whole range of emotions, but this was food that had been cooked with heart and soul. It was also interesting that my children had a great time, but that's because they have not yet developed the insecurities and preconceptions of an adult. The less we are bound by the perceived conventions of eating, the more we will enjoy its pleasures and the more restaurants such as Juniper will flourish and serve dishes such as A Man Made Of Aubergine. Now who wouldn't be in favour of that?