Blind dining: just how difficult is it?


Updated on 06 October 2014 | 0 Comments

A restaurant in London is offering a blind dining event in support of the Royal London Society for Blind People. Matt Brady went for dinner.

For a limited period until 5th November, the Island Grill restaurant in London is offering diners the chance to experience ‘blind dining’, or eating while blindfolded, in a bid to recreate a blind person’s experience in the same situation.

This initiative is in support of the Royal London Society for Blind People (RLSB). This charity supports young people living with sight loss across the south east of England, helping them live up to their potential through a range of activities like sport and education.

Starter

Once seated and blindfolded, the first thing I notice is how claustrophobic I feel. And then I realise quite how difficult this is going to be. I want a sip of my pint, but to do so, I have to shuffle my hand along the table, doing a good impression of a spider stretching its legs, looking for the edge of my glass.

When I finally have it in hand, I miss my mouth. My girlfriend Nadya (also blindfolded) laughs at me – she opted for a drink with a straw. A wise choice, in retrospect. I'd have been wiser still if I didn't mention it as she’d never have known.

The waitress arrives to take our order, which presents a new challenge. As we can’t read menus, she has to direct our decisions through talking. This is quite nice, really. I don’t often ask for recommendations in restaurants so it’s good to be directed by someone who knows their way through the menu. I opt for ravioli with a mushroom sauce to start, while Nadya picks the courgette and artichoke risotto.

The plates arrive, and I make stabbing motions towards my plate with a fork until I feel something yield. But by the time I bring the fork up to my mouth, all I’m rewarded with is a cold tang of metal and a small amount of sauce. Whatever was there seems to have escaped.

Though I’m sure that with practice this process becomes easier, it’s infuriating. When I do get hold of something, I’m stuffing my mouth with too much food – I can’t get it just right. We agree that our starters were both very tasty, but excruciatingly hard to eat.

Main

Our starters have been taken away, and the mains arrive. Nadya has chosen the roast salmon, I've gone for the sea bass. A special mention to the chefs for this one – the balance of flavours on the plate, between the fish, accompanying delicate girolle mushrooms and the richer cream sauce is very accomplished.

I think I have picked up some fish for my first bite but I’m confused – I can’t pin down the flavour at all. I then remember that the dish comes with something else: it’s an artichoke.

Nadya is clanking at her plate with the cutlery. “There’s this cylindrical thing on my plate. I can’t pick it up and I’m not sure what it is," she says. I can hear her pushing something around the rim of the plate, trying to get a good grip of it with her fork.

I’m busy with my own meal as the sea bass is challenging to cut up, and every time I think I’ve cut off a chunk, it seems to disappear. In the meantime, Nadya has finally found success, and bites into the object she's been chasing. Turns out it's the lemon to accompany her fish, and the unexpected sourness doesn’t make for the best mouthful of her meal.

We can’t tell if we’ve actually finished our courses or not, and need a prompt from the staff, who we’re now relying on a fair amount. They’ve seasoned our food for us and described the shape and depth of the plates, as well as what is on them, to help us eat. But it’s still really difficult.

Dessert

We both opt for a mix of ice cream and sorbets (the refreshing green apple sorbet is top notch), and are guided through eating them by detailed verbal instructions. It’s like telling a beginner how to land an aeroplane, but I get there in the end and enjoy the unexpected texture of the sugar baskets each scoop is sitting in. The plate is huge though: it might normally work well for dramatic effect when served – right now, it’s a real pain.

I chase the remaining balls of ice cream up and down the plate, and guess that most of it must have melted by the time I actually manage to pick it up.

What did I think?

Tonight’s meal was delicious, in terms of the food served, but very challenging to enjoy.

And despite enjoying my meal, I was most looking forward to taking my blindfold off. Although this was an interesting experience for us, a visually impaired person simply wouldn’t have the choice. I think that’s what I’ve taken away from this the most.  

The RLSB want to highlight the reality of childhood sight loss – we’ve only endured a temporary blindfolding, and I wouldn’t want to cheapen the facts in the slightest. The statistics on their website really hammer home the harsh truths. Truths like a quarter of partially sighted children under 12 being depressed, or the fact that only 40% of them have neighbourhood friends to play with.

While dining, the conversation tended to turn very much to what we wouldn’t be able to do if we couldn’t see. I doubt that I would have this job. According to RSLB figures, 90% of those who lose their sight while young won’t work for more than six months in their entire lives. That's a sobering thought to take away from a very different dining experience.

If you’d like to be involved with fundraising for the RLSB, a ‘blind run’ event will be taking place in the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park, London on 2nd November. See the RLSB website for details.

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