So.

Last week there was a new list that came out.

See here

El Bulli got bunted down and so did Fat Duck. Noma slides to top spot, it’s supposedly now the ‘world’s best restaurant’.

Having never been to Copenhagen, it’s hard to make an educated comment on this new state of play. The only thing to say is that at some point we’ll probably join the thronging crowd of 100, 000 who tried to get a booking at Noma in days after.

Last year in our ridiculous ‘quest for the best’ we made it to a smattering of stellar places that were minted by the list; including the mystical booking at El Bulli and a glorious lunch at Fat Duck.

These two join other places that we adored in sliding down the list. One is Bras- last year it was number seven in the world,the source of a side trip to Laguiole and a meal in the sun eating flowers. This year it has descended 49 spots to number 56. There was our lunch at St John, which has fallen from 14 to number 43.

We went, we ate, we took surreptitious photos and tried to write them up. Somewhat of a dossier of a life well lived…

Last year there were gambles on new entries on the list; off we went to Mirazur, in Menton which was a new entrant at 35. This year it’s down to 83.

And the detour to Osteria Francescana. We took a fast train from Bologna just to eat dinner at the highest new entry – it sat pretty at 13 last year. It’s now climbed another seven places to number six where it’s sandwiched between Mugaritz and Chicago’s Alinea.

Of course we know there’s a very hefty slice of the ridiculous in this exorbitant quest.

How do we justify it? Financially it’s nigh impossible.

In emotional currency it’s easier to make some leaps of logic.

Two and a half years ago when The Hungry One’s mother was accidentally killed we made a decision that we didn’t want to wait to try and get the best out of life.

Food makes us happy. Restaurants make us happy. Travelling and planning helps keep us excited about the future.

And in the two years that have passed since December 28, 2007; with their taint of bail hearings, testimonies and murder trials, there’s nothing like having a clear roadmap of where you might go, where everything will be lovely for a while.

So, as we gear up to face the second iteration of his mother’s murder trial in August (because doing it the first time wasn’t fun enough), we’re looking for some distraction.

And so the planning begins.

A little time in the US, perhaps a jaunt to Chicago and New York.

Then three weeks of testimonies and talk by experts on fractured cartilage and suffusion. Supporting The Hungry One’s Dad through trauma compounded. Dodging photographers from The Daily Telegraph. Staring at court walls and wondering why they are coloured like Tootsie rolls.

Then to London. To start a new life for a while.

And perhaps to try and make it to Noma.