Killer Queen brings a legend to life with near-perfect illusion

Ah, the irony of middle age.

I'm still hip enough to be at a rock concert on a Thursday night, trying to download the concert lighter app on my iPhone to wave in appreciation. But my aging eyes can't see the details without my reading glasses, and the concert is a tribute act to a band led by a guy who's been dead for 26 years. And, rather amazingly, I'm on the young end of this crowd.

Welcome to a night with Killer Queen, one of the oldest and most respected of the tribute bands that tour the world re-creating concert experiences of iconic acts that are no more.

It's an extraordinary evening. Queen's hit-laden catalog stretches over 20 years; this concert is packed with anthems everyone knows. The illusion is near perfect. Costumes, wigs, moves and voices bring the band to vivid life (circa the late '80s). The guy who plays Freddie Mercury both sounds and looks the part. Brian May's doppleganger is a tremendously talented guitarist. This isn't lip-syncing play-actors; these guys are obviously talented musicians.

So dedicated are they to creating the illusion, in fact, that they've purposely hidden their own identities. Unlike the Fleetwood Mac evening that first introduced me to the merit of tribute bands, there are no pauses here to discuss the original band or introduce the modern musicians. (The one exception is a reverent performance of These Are The Days of Our Lives during which the background screens are full of images of Freddie and the band in their glory days.) It's pure concert performance. Even a search on Killer Queen's website doesn't reveal much. Though the band's been going since 1993 and is obviously wildly successful (they tour globally), there are no biographies of the band members to be found.

Of course, reality pokes a few holes in the illusion. The intimacy of the 1,400 seat Anvil auditorium in Basingstoke means every seat is a great one, but it's hard to conjure the electric buzz of tens of thousands of screaming fans in a stadium. And though the crowd was on its feet dancing at times throughout the evening, the preponderance of white heads and their propensity to sit down to enjoy the show definitely edged us solidly into the theatre category. The years roll back by the time you get to the inevitable encore/closer of "Bohemian Rhapsody", "We are the Champions" and "God Save The Queen", however. With Freddie in crown and ermine-edged robe and everyone on their feet, bellowing at the top of their lungs, everyone in the audience has regressed to their 18-year-old selves. (Except for a few actual teenagers, gazing at the elders who brought them with curious speculation.)

My only real complaint was the badly balanced sound production. The lead vocals were swallowed beneath the instruments, and none of it seemed loud enough. It was another irony: last week we were at Kingsman: The Golden Circle worrying that our ear drums were going to be blown out. Here, where our bodies should have been throbbing to a near-physical wave of sound, it was all very sedate. I don't know whether this was a one off, a complication of The Anvil or a trait of the band, but it was a shame. Our "Freddie" had a beautiful voice ... obvious in a few quiet bits when he accompanied himself with the piano ... and he deserved to stand out more.

I admit I came to Queen's music late. My youthful musical tastes weren't particularly sophisticated, leaning to bubblegum pop. As a somewhat geeky kid who read sci fi and fantasy, I was mainly aware of them through the Highlander and Flash Gordon soundtracks. They weren't as big in the States, of course; it took moving to the UK for me to start to grasp the magnitude of their talents. Marriage to a huge Queen fan completed the journey. He enjoyed the evening even more than I did.

If you're even a moderate fan, see these guys if you get the chance. Just remember to download the concert lighter app before you go.

Series of stumbles suggests L'Ortolan is losing its touch

L'Ortolan is one of the grand old dames of British fine dining. It first gained a Michelin star in 1982, when there were just 17 in the country. In the late '80s, it briefly held two. Six notable head chefs have led the kitchen, while time there turns up on the CV of many a culinary star. It's also the only fine dining restaurant in an area where the next best dining options are chains or serviceable gastropubs.

Thus the restaurant, tucked away in the former vicarage of a pretty rural village on the southern outskirts of Reading, has become the "go to" destination for generations of locals marking special occasions. That's certainly the case for us. I've been to L'Ortolan more than any other Michelin-starred establishment, and my evening at its extraordinary Chef's Table makes it on the list of the Top 5 dining experiences of my life.

But nothing lasts forever. I saw several signs last night, as we celebrated the double delights of my birthday and our wedding anniversary, that the venerable spot might be going through a rough patch.

The first warnings had nothing to do with the food. As we sat in the bar with our pre-dinner drinks,
we noticed a gash in one of the leather sofas, frothed with its escaping upholstery stuffing. At the table, the beautiful hand-turned wooden bowl holding our bread was obviously broken, with four inches of one edge snapped off. These may seem like little things, but at a place that stakes its reputation on perfection, they shouted. Though one of the private rooms was buzzing with a party, there were empty tables in the main room on a Friday night, while nobody occupied the esteemed chef's table. These early indications hinted that L'Ortolan was no longer at the top of its game.

We opted for the chef's menu and the matching wine flight. As expected: elegant presentation, classic French tastes, interesting matches with insightful commentary from the sommelier. The standards remain exceptionally high. Mackerel with beetroot, raspberries and a sliver of meringue was a beautiful balance of strong and soft, sweet and savoury. Who can argue with duck liver parfait, or a main of perfectly cooked duck with sides of succulent "bon bon" made of confit leg meat? That classic main got a modern boost from pineapple chutney and bok choy with a soy glaze. Chocolate tart with goat's cheese ice cream is an inspired combo of rich, sweet and tart flavours. I've had many of these elements in different combinations here over the years; the duck bon bons have earned praise on this blog before.

But all was not perfect on the plates, either. The fish course stumbled: stone bass with sea veg and caviar needed more texture, particularly as the skin was soft and flabby rather than crispy; the date puree that accompanied it was too sweet to integrate smoothly with the rest of the dish; leaving the tempura soft shell crab, meant to be a slight garnish, as the standout element on the plate. The balance seemed off on the duck liver, as well, where we had too much liver with not enough secondary elements to temper the iron-rich punch. The walls of ginger tuile were exquisite, but needed to be thicker to impart an essential sweet crunch to the dish. Mackerel, beetroot and fruit is a classic combo, but were the slices of raspberry meant to be still frozen? I suppose this could have been for texture, but something frozen that solid is both a jarring shock to the mouth, and relatively tasteless.

Repeated ingredients across courses also diminished my enjoyment. Of five courses and two amuse bouche, mackerel appeared in two and duck in two. The mackerel as a snack of crispy skin with dots of flavoured mayonnaise and that first course with beetroot. In between was a rather insipid little bowl of savoury custard topped with haddock foam. Heaven help anyone not fond of fish if presented with this opening triple salvo. The two duck courses were separated by the stone bass. Unlike mackerel I can happily enjoy much repetition of this lovely bird, but it does seem a shame to repeat when there are so many other options to explore. I found myself fondly recalling an otherwise unimpressive dinner at the French Laundry, where they bend over backwards to never repeat an ingredient from one course to another. Call me a cynic, but I had to wonder if L'Ortolan is doing a bit of cost cutting.

It could be that I was just in an exceptionally picky mood. With our magnificent meal at Denmark's Restaurant Domestic still fresh in my mind, my expectations had been ratcheted up and L'Ortolan fared badly. Within its specific context, however ... as the only top quality restaurant in its area and a place that delivers London-quality food at somewhat smaller prices ... L'Ortolan delivers. I'm not ready to abandon it yet. But I'm also in no hurry to rush back, and whenever that next special occasion calls for local fine dining, I'll be watching carefully to see if our latest experience was a quirky one-off, or sign of an ongoing decline.

Dining around Denmark: Our restaurant round-up

I've already written of our gourmet dining experiences on our Danish holiday: the extraordinary Restaurant Domestic in Aarhus, and the intimate delights of the Ruths Hotel fine dining restaurant in Skagen.

They were exceptional ... but not surprising. From humble hot dog stands to brew houses and local inns, the food throughout our exploration of the Danish countryside was uniformly excellent. It's what I've come to expect. In fact, I'd say that only an Italian holiday is better at delivering meals that provide consistently high value for money without demanding much restaurant-hunting effort from the tourist.

Much of this is down to the dependability of the traditional "Kro", or inn. These are roughly the same as the British gastropub: charming, historic building; a place to have a quiet drink; but majoring on delicious meals, locally sourced and individually prepared. In England, unfortunately, a good gastropub is the exception to the pub rule ... we have three pubs in our village and none have better than average food ... and can often be as expensive as a fine dining establishment. Perhaps we were just lucky, but every Kro we stumbled into in Denmark was excellent.

In addition, Denmark is following global trends with the rise of small local breweries. Every town we visited had one, offering a range of craft beers that had this wine drinker happy to embrace the hops. Most also have restaurants, usually with a range of traditional food.

Top of the traditional list, especially if you're having lunch, is smørrebrød. I had originally confused this tradition with "smorgasbord" which, though Swedish in origin, has degenerated in America to mean an all-you-can-eat buffet, often of marginal quality. Though you sometimes find smørrebrød in a buffet, usually these artfully-crafted open-faced sandwiches are ordered individually. In the same way that tiramisu can be a benchmark dish in Italy ... everyone does one, the quality and details can vary widely ... I'd put forward the prawn smørrebrød as the Danish equivalent. That, with a glass of beer and a small shot of snaps if not driving, is our go-to lunch order. I don't know what it is here, but the small prawns are of a radically better quality than any we get in the UK. (My guess: locally caught, never frozen.)

You can also reliably depend on pickled herring (if you haven't tried it, you really should; it's much better than you'd expect), additional interesting takes on pickling and delicious mixes of fruit with meat. The base cuisine is Franco-Germanic: roast meats, sauces, potatoes. You'll find schnitzel on almost every menu. But it's usually done with a lighter touch than German versions. You'll come out of a Danish restaurant satisfied, but rarely stuffed.

And, of course, there's pølser.  The Danes are mad for hot dogs; this is a cheap and cheerful go-to meal if you're in a hurry. Roadside stands abound, and whether it's motorway rest stops or vans serving in car parks, you can usually get a delicious combo of meat, bread and essential crispy onions.

The ubiquity of resolutely Danish culinary traditions is fading as global influences spread. And, let's face it, while we want to eat Danish food when we visit, the Danes themselves are probably relieved to find more variety than their traditional repertoire. Sushi places abound. Roadside vans are as likely to be roast chicken or burritos as pølser. In both Aarhus and Helsingør, when we were keen to find classic Danish food we stumbled into markets providing a range of global options, from Thai stir fry to American pulled pork. Without a local to accompany them, two friends of mine recently returned from Copenhagen and, when I asked them about the food, could only reply: "what is it about the Danes and pizza?"

If you want quality traditional food, all of the places below are worth a try. None of these are worth a special trip (as Ruths' or Domestic would be), but if you're in the area already, then seeking them out will reward your efforts.

Aalborg - Søgaards Bryghus

The town's microbrewery sits conveniently on the central square in the old town, in a 16th-century red brick building with tall gables a stone's throw from the main church. The decor inside is more modern, echoed in a fun, informal take on a traditional menu. Excellent value for money: we've never had a bigger platter of pickled herring (we easily could have shared one portion) ... three versions, all tasty, and a beautiful excuse to try the range of beer and snaps.

Aalborg - Bøf og Vin

Does what it says on the tin: beef and wine. Good steaks, some fine seafood options for starters, a salad bar and a solid wine list. On the main road into the historic part of town, near the waterfront.

Gillelej - Adamsen's Fisk

If the sun's out, bypass all the charming restaurants in town and head for the harbour. Adamsen's is a hut attached to a seafood shop, walk up to the window and order from what's fresh. We had battered, fried place on a generous bed of salad with a bread base, garnished with lumpfish roe. Simple, delicious and enhanced by eating at a picnic table bathed by sea air. Reminded me strongly of Captain Kidd's in Redondo Beach, California.

Ribe - Kolvig

Restaurants in the picture-postcard town of Ribe are curiously tipped towards burger bars, kebab shops and Chinese buffets. I suspect this is due to German tourists on bargain caravan holidays. One nicer option is this bistro, down a flight of steps next to the river. Delicious classic food with a French flair and very serious drinks: boutique gins, home-made tonic and a sophisticated wine list. My husband, in a moment of weakness brought on by too much sightseeing, made the mistake of leaving the wine matching completely up to our waiter. He obviously asked with an air of affluent comfort. We ended up with an exceptional bottle of Gevrey Chambertin which we were too embarrassed to reject. It was a profligate splurge, but thankfully delivered at a lower cost than online wine guides had us fearing. Kolvig lets diners order additional bottles to take away for half their menu price ... though we called it quits at one.

Rønnede - Rønnede Kro

The best prawn smørrebrød we had the whole trip, served in an exquisite historic building furnished like a grand 19th century house. Obviously a favourite event venue, this charming thatched inn is less than an hour south of Copenhagen.

Rungsted - Rungsted Kro

Very much like Rønnede, but to the north of Copenhagen. A stone's throw from the Karen Blixen museum and where the author used to put up guests when her house was full. It's recently had a major renovation, so the charmingly crooked walls and windows are now shining like new. I was introduced to biksemad here: literal translation "tossed together food". It's essentially a meat and potato hash served with a fried egg. Delicious, seriously stick-to-your-ribs stuff; this was the only time I left a Danish restaurant uncomfortably stuffed.

Skagen - Solnedgangskiosken

Translated as the "kiosk of the setting sun", this beach hut in old Skagen is this trip's best example of great food coming from humble places. (Top photo.) Delicious hot dogs enjoyed with boutique bottled beers from Skagen Bryghus, consumed at picnic tables screened by dunes and with a clear view of the North Sea. Try the liquorice ice cream for dessert, it's a Danish classic that packs a flavour punch. Resist, however, the temptation to have it with the traditional "guf" topping. This is something like uncooked Italian meringue, slathered thickly atop the the ice-cream and sweet enough to trigger a diabetic coma; the sugar punch had killed my tastebuds before I got to the excellent ice cream.

Stege - Slagter Stig Stoeberiet

This clever butcher has knocked through to the shop next door to create a restaurant with a healthy self-serve ethos. Help yourself to a smørrebrød buffet. Serve your own drinks with an electronic key linked to your tab. There's even a pile of candles and a lighter to so you can build your own hygge. Or pick something out of the butcher's case for them to cook up. Exceptional hamburgers.

Stevns - Traktørstedet Højeruplund

Tiny and rigorously traditional, the low ceilings and groove-and-plank walls make it feel like you've been invited in by a local sea captain for dinner. Hearty soups, delicious prawn cocktail and one of the biggest plates of schnitzel I've seen outside of Bavaria.

Vedbaek - Nautilus

A laid back yet elegant restaurant on a pier. The style and sophistication match the location: we're in the heart of Copenhagen's most affluent commuter belt. Excellent seafood, as you'd expect.