Heston’s Last Supper

预订方式 Nick Redman

十一月 11, 2026

Remember when a mandarin was the most talked-about dish in London? As Dinner by Heston Blumenthal prepares to close at Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park in January 2027, we celebrate 16 years of culinary invention through the dishes that changed the way Britain eats

Heston’s ‘Meat Fruit’ on wooden board, with a wine glass in the foreground.

It’s crazy to think that a full 15 years have passed since Heston Blumenthal sprang the culinary sorcery of his three-Michelin-starred Buckinghamshire restaurant The Fat Duck upon the big city. At London’s Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park, in January 2011, he unveiled Dinner by Heston Blumenthal, an unassuming name that almost played down pathfinding recipes and methods behind it, honed from painstaking research into the fascinating history of food in Britain: what was eaten by whom, why and when.

No saccharine nostalgia trip, Blumenthal’s work was modern art of the Picasso order, forged from a wish to deliver ancient dishes refreshed and relevant to a contemporary crowd. Eliciting gasps from critics and customers, it turned his passion project into a global fireworks display that seduced the world, producing offspring internationally. As Dinner prepares to take its final bow, we revisit eight of its most memorable creations.

Meat Fruit
Among Blumenthal’s most lauded conjuring tricks, this starter contained the clue in its name. Sliced open, an apparently simple, dimpled mandarin orange revealed itself as a stunning simulacrum: an orb of chicken liver and foie gras parfait, texturally as serene as clotted cream, enclosed in an orange ‘peel’ of mandarin purée and oil, glucose, gelatine and food colouring, served with a thick slice of grilled bread. The inspiration was mediaeval-into-Tudor: an era when trompe-l’oeil banquet dishes were served to challenge and entertain diners. While researching, Blumenthal uncovered poume d’oranges (golden apples): spiced, fruited, roasted pork balls in parsley (green) or saffron (gold) batter. They delivered the DNA for his dish.

Heston’s ‘Rice and Flesh’ on a white plate.

Rice and Flesh
Featured on the current Discovery menu, this amalgam of beef cheek, red wine and saffron was reimagined by Blumenthal from a recipe in The Forme of Cury, Britain’s earliest known cookery manual: a collection of mediaeval recipes by the master chefs of Richard II. By name, Rice and Flesh epitomises Blumenthal’s inimitable flair for theatre, but the course is technically flawless: a Milanese saffron risotto of sorts, originally based, in the restaurant’s early years, on calf tail, cooked sous-vide, with a garnish of red amaranth. It encapsulates the chef’s creative compulsion – to revive forgotten historical British recipes through a contemporary filter.

Tipsy Cake
The much-loved spirit-soaked Victorian dessert intrigued Blumenthal, who finessed the historic recipe, applying his signature ingenious approach to texture and flavour. While the original method dictated the steeping of stale cakes in brandy and cream, Blumenthal swapped them out for pillowy brioche dough, oven-baked to a golden, caramelised finish and immersed once more in cream then, finally, brandy again. The accompaniment was a ‘kebab’ of spit-roasted pineapple, a fruit that had exotic status appeal in cold and gloomy Georgian Britain. So prohibitively expensive, they were ritually displayed as talking-point table centrepieces. Thus Blumenthal brilliantly pimped a classic British pudding with time-warp opulence for a 21-century clientele.

Heston’s ‘Powdered Duck’ on a white plate.

Powdered Duck
According to Gault & Millau, Hannah Woolley “was the first woman in the English-speaking world to write a cookbook.” Poring over kippered-yellow recipes in the British Library, team Blumenthal uncovered Woolley’s 1672 work, The Queen-like Closet. Published centuries before refrigeration was a twinkle in its mother’s ice, it featured, among other recipes, one for ‘powdering’ a goose, that is, preserving protein with salt and spices. Blumenthal’s brilliant twist was no sandy pile of pulverised fowl, but two instantly devourable, succulent little duck ‘hams’, which the master sent out with smoked fennel and potato purée.

Brown Bread Ice Cream
Tipsy cake has had competition over the years from this popular stalwart among devotees of Dinner by Heston Blumenthal. During the Georgian era (1714-1830), ‘icy cream’ or ‘iced-cream’ was a luxury the wealthy coveted, composed of diverse, occasionally eyebrow-raising flavours. Blumenthal’s version was born after a deep dive into the dusty recesses of British culinary culture: 1805’s A New System of Domestic Cookery by cost-conscious home economist Mrs Rundell. Frugality in Victorian society accelerated the popularity of toasted stale crumbs as an ice-cream bulking ingredient and Blumenthal saw a way to sex up the formula with a velvety smoothness and crunch from the main mix of malted yeast syrup, pear and the salted butter caramel base. Result: a sweet-savoury sensation.

Salmagundy
With culinary roots back in the 14th century, salads grew in popularity as British gardens sprouted ever more abundant herbs and vegetables. In tandem, society chefs sought more elaborate, layered ways to showcase their colour and variety – culminating in Salmagundy, the complex, elaborate leafy scene-stealer that so seduced the late-17th-early-18th century well-to-do. Blumenthal’s intricate homage stems from The Cook’s and Confectioner’s Dictionary: Or, the Accomplished Housewife’s Companion, published in London in 1723. Featuring smoked confit chicken, salsify, marrowbone, horseradish cream and pickled walnuts, it’s a startling, irresistible flavour bomb.

Frumenty
Its name a derivative of the Latin frumentum, for grain, this was an almond-milky, cracked-wheat porridge of sorts, consumed by mediaeval commoners for Lent, Advent and other meat-free days. Restructuring the recipe discovered in 14th-century English manuscript The Forme of Cury, Blumenthal resolved to dismantle the dismal conceptions of peasant food – after all, frumenty was elevated over centuries to royal-banquet level, sweetened with fruits and spices. His ingenious update took spelt, softened in savoury mussel and octopus stock and broth, and added dulse, a sea algae, and slivers of pickled Buddha’s hand fruit to salute the sugary original. With tender grilled octopus (sometimes lobster), the Blumenthal model was sui generis – and exquisite.

Heston’s ‘Hay Smoked Salmon’ on a white plate.

Hay Smoked Salmon
In 2010, immediately prior to opening at Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park, Blumenthal extolled the simplicity of this starter (initially using mackerel) to the New York Times with schoolboy fervour: ‘‘Go to the pet shop. Buy a bag of hay. Get a fish clamp. Hay on one side, mackerel, pack it with more hay. Clamp it. Put it on the fire. Within three seconds, it’ll go whoosh! Up in flames.’’ The Georgians indeed practised this basic method for reasons of thrift (and enhanced shelf life), yet Blumenthal’s incarnation, employing a blowtorch, and which evolved to Scottish Loch Duart salmon, oozed sophistication. Served with pickled Amalfi lemons, Gentleman’s Relish and a fresh, seasonal salad, the salmon delighted with a delicate, sweet-meets-earthy taste that didn’t overpower, but rather enhanced the fish for an adoring audience.

Catch Dinner by Heston Blumenthal at Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park before it closes. Replacing the current five-course tasting menu is A Journey Through History: an eight-course tasting menu taking diners through the rich tapestry of British culinary history. Inspired by old and obscure recipes, each dish is reworked and revivified with Blumenthal’s signature flair.

All offers and experiences available at time of publication. Please contact the relevant hotel team for more information.

作者简介

Nick Redman

Nick Redman is a travel and food writer and editor, contributing to titles including Condé Nast Traveller, The Times, the Sunday Times, Times Luxx, the Observer, the Daily Mail, Radio Times, Vanity Fair and Hello!