It started with crumpled beef and cold mashed potato, inside Yorkshire puddings that were miniaturised far beyond the point of absurdity. Everything, pretty much, had been miniaturised beyond the point of absurdity.
There were Lego-sized fish fingers, offered on slabs of slate that had chilled them on contact. They were served with dill, and a light mayonnaise skin.
It is customary to have a goat’s cheese and red onion tartlet at these things. Most of the guests had discarded their half-eaten tartlets at the bar, but some left them in the plant pots. I spat mine right into my hand.