Post Seven - Dining, Take 2

I tried to avoid the topic of the Titanic, I really did. I didn't want to dream about the movie's sinking scene while in the middle of the Atlantic. But it was futile. People talked about it at meals. The string quartet played the movie's theme during dinner between Mozart and Bach. And then there was the Olympic.

This gourmet restaurant is patterned after the exclusive first-class dining rooms on the Titanic and its sister ship, the Olympic (which was retired in the 1950s). From the décor to the dessert, everything is designed to emulate the experience passengers had back then. The entire place seats only 130 people (tiny for a cruise ship), and it requires reservations. The paneling in the restaurant (shown in this photo) adorned the Olympic's first-class restaurant in its heyday. The tables are set in the style of the original restaurant right down to a replica of the Olympic's china.

Our five-course meal lasted about three hours, and the chefs only began preparing each dish after we ordered it, including pastries. The Steak Diane was seared at our table over a small flame. We drank Burgundy.

After three hours at the table, it was time for a walk. We made it to the stern just in time for this sunset.

The complainers on board (NOT pictured in this photo) were obnoxious! We were swimming in luxury, but some people still found reason to nitpick. I overheard them in the elevators, at breakfast, in the lounges. What did the staff--some of them from Third World countries--think of these unappreciative, whiny people?

Fortunately, we didn't sit with any of those people. Scott and I felt lucky to be matched up with excellent dinner table companions (two others, Geri and Manny, aren't pictured). Dottie and Larry (center) were long-time avid sailors, and Larry once had actually crossed the Atlantic on a small boat with some friends. Shirley and Bob were serious cruisers, on their 16th ship in three years. These people were living it up in retirement, and it was a pleasure to dine with them.

This was the last formal night, and the menu was particularly elaborate. The chefs unleashed their full culinary powers to use butter and cream in as many dishes as possible. During dinner, the cruise director even introduced the chefs, maitre-d', and kitchen manager.

The madness peaked when the cruise director introduced the dessert: The Parade of Baked Alaskas.

Our most excellent waiters, holding the baked Alaska for our table.

But the feeding frenzy wasn't over. At midnight, the kitchen staff rolled out the mother of all gourmet buffets. It was sumptuous, set up like a royal feast from another century, with giant ice carvings, dozens of spun-sugar sculptures, and food arrangements so beautiful they didn't look like food. This was set up 20 minutes early to allow for viewing and picture taking. The entire ship showed up with cameras. Really.

The two large oval floral carvings on pedestals are watermelons. The red and white flowers on the centerpiece are tomatoes and radishes.