There is a notion – perhaps generally held – that anything attempting excellence needs to be presented seriously to achieve the right image,  fun being relegated to more commercial endeavours.

Bosh, I say; what could be more exquisite and pure theatre than Heston Blumenthal’s Michelin three star restaurant, The Fat Duck in Bray, Berkshire. Bray is a typical English riverside village with a narrow, winding main street crowded by quaint old houses.

There is little to distinguish The Fat Duck on the outside from its neighbours, let alone its name. You know an establishment has to be of some renown and importance when it dispenses with its name, announcing itself externally merely by its distinctive logo.

My anticipation had been heightened to an abnormal degree due to the difficulty of securing a reservation, all attempts to get through on the phone being met with an engaged tone. When bookings are permitted (then by phone only*) up to only two calendar months ahead and you can forget any tables being available if you don’t get one the day, two months ahead,  you will see that one has to act smartish. (When, on 7th May, I did confirm my reservation, I learned it was fully booked for lunch and dinner until 7th July!).

It was left to the kindness of a suitably connected contact who came to my rescue. Was it worth all the effort and tension? You bet it was.

The menu – there’s just one – is 14 items – I suppose I should say ‘long’ – but in fact the nearly five hours we sat and enjoyed it raced by with no sense of having over eaten at the end. Alright, the 14 include hot and iced tea and whisk(e)y wine gums (cleverly attached in the relevant spots on a map of Scotland with the whiskey on Tennessee), but the majority are intricate and varied.

As the full menu is listed on the website (worth exploring for its own sake), I’ll try to restrain myself to the highlights. But first, it’s worthwhile to bear in mind Blumenthal’s philosophy; as he says on the website: ‘Of course I want to create food that is delicious, but this depends on so much more than simply what's going on in the mouth - context, history, nostalgia, emotion, memory and the interplay of sight, smell, sound and taste all play an important part in our appreciation and enjoyment of food.’

He might add surprise, the first of which came with Lime Grove, whipped egg white ‘moussed’ in liquid nitrogen, dusted with green tea and scented with a burst of lime sprayed above my head. It was melt-in-the-mouth refreshing, leaving the palate on alert for the adventures ahead.

Flavours are vivid and either exciting in their contrast or deliciously complementary, as in Red Cabbage Gazpacho with Pommery Grain Mustard Ice Cream.

Texture is extensively explored in Jelly of Quail, Crayfish Cream with Chicken Liver Parfait, Oak Moss and Truffle Toast. You will see in the photo the cup with the chicken liver parfait on top, the crayfish cream and jelly below; we were urged to dig the spoon to the bottom of the cup to experience all the different textures augmented by a nibble of the toast.

History and nostalgia are remembered in Mock Turtle Soup. The dish is announced by our waiter bearing a velvet-lined case carrying the Mad Hatter’s gold fob watch; dipped in liquid this soon melts and poured over the soup’s ingredients.

But this was nothing compared with Sound of the Sea.

Sea sounds one indeed experiences, via headphones and a tape hidden in a large shell, whilst savouring the three fishes - mackerel, halibut and yellowfin tuna – pictured. The sea’s edge is, apparently, seaweed and vegetable stock but I’ve no idea how it was transformed. Gimmicky? Well yes, but one can’t help but entering into the spirit.

So what wines could one possibly choose to go with such a vast and varied menu? Three selections, rising in price, by the glass are offered, but apart from feeling unable to cope with nine or ten generous glasses, I also felt this would have competed too much with the food. After the complementary flute of Tattinger Reserve NV, and with help from the sommelier, we opted for two whites and two reds: Brundlmayer’s Gruner Veltliner Kamptaler Terrasen 2008, a lighter, fresh version from this top producer and excellent complement for the first few dishes. The heavier guns came with a Tokai Sec from Kiralyndrar? – my handwriting was shaky at this stage and the wine no longer appears on the wine list. This richer, quite oxidative, oak-aged wine is mainly furmint; another perfectly tuned for food and a great match until we reached the Salmon poached in Liquorice, where Quinta da Leda, Casa Ferreirinha 2000 from the Douro took over. Poured from a magnum, this tinta roriz, touriga nacional based blend went unexpectedly well with the fish and, more expectedly with the Powdered Anjou Pigeon with Blood Pudding and Confit of Umbles. Umbles = humble pie = offal!

If red table wines from the Douro are gaining a deserved reputation, sweet reds, specifically from mataró or mourvèdre, from Spain have yet to do so, but surely their time will come. Alella 2008, Dolç Mataró, Alta Alella, Catalunia might be a dessert wine, but its frenzied acidity leaves no room for cloying; its bright cherry purity and weight was a match made in heaven with The ‘BFG’ – Black Forest Gateau – a concoction with its own sumptuous cherry filling, all topped off with a spray of cherry essence overhead.

Throughout the afternoon, service was attentive but never intrusive; we never had to wait for the next course, but neither did we ever feel hurried.

A truly memorable experience, one I shall relish for years to come and another tick on my list of 101 things to do before I die.

* now it's possible to book online for lunch