My Review of Victoria and Albert's - January 2020

EJ Fastpasser

Earning My Ears
Joined
Feb 2, 2020
Victoria and Albert’s isn’t exactly on the beaten path in Walt Disney World. Almost hidden on the second floor off the Grand Floridian lobby, in the underutilized area outside the soon-to-be former Citrico’s restaurant, are two beautiful wooden doors with frosted glass inserts etched with the very Victorian font logo advising you that you are on the threshold of Disney’s highest of high-end dining experiences. The restaurant, for many years under the leadership of Chef Scott Hunnel, has garnered many top awards, including the prestigious AAA Five Diamond award (on display by the aforementioned doors). If the Michelin guidebook reviewed Florida restaurants, it would certainly earn three stars, the highest rating. Tonight, we (my wife Michelle and our friends Todd and Jeff) decided to come back to Victoria and Albert’s after a 7-year hiatus to see if the food, the service, and experience was as great as we remembered, a now legendary night that I still call one of the greatest meals of my life.

There is a dress code. Jackets and slacks for men (ties are not required, but if you’ve dressed up that much, why stop there?). Women are to wear “a cocktail dress, nice dress, dressy pants suit or a skirt with a blouse” (note that my wife didn’t wear any of those things, opting for tuxedo pants and a dressy sweater. Nobody said anything to her). So those people you see walking around in jackets and dresses in right before 8pm in the Grand Floridian? They’re probably going to Victoria and Albert’s.

After our monorail ride from the Contemporary, and before checking in to the restaurant, we stopped for a cocktail at the Enchanted Rose, which used to be the location of our favorite bar in Walt Disney World, the now-sadly extinct Mizner’s Lounge. The space formally occupied by this much-loved-by-us drinking establishment is now overlaid with a Beauty and The Beast motif because, as we all know, intellectual property now rules all things in Disney World. Still, it’s a beautiful room finished in the typically detailed Disney style with requisite Beauty and The Beast Easter Eggs. However, instead of getting classic cocktails from a charismatic bartender, as we had so many times in that very room (with the excellent band playing just outside) we received our cocktails in a near-silent room where the resident mixologist, working from an impressive drink cart, talked about the tears of love in our drinks (or something like that). Note to Disney: Not everything needs a story.

Mizner’s Lounge. Never forget.

Down the hallway, the rest of our evening awaited. There was a sense of anticipation about eating in Victoria and Albert’s; we all knew our culinary tastes were going to be challenged, and, if past history was any indicator, delighted. This leads me to important point #1 about Victoria and Albert’s: It is not a place for picky eaters, nor if your preferred special occasion restaurant is Golden Corral. This is a meal, yes, but an experience is a better description. Indeed, when you are shown to your table at Victoria and Albert’s, you have a pleasant, jarring removal from the theme park resort craziness outside. Suddenly, you are not in Kansas anymore. You enter into the calm, dimly lit, almost spa-like circular dining room interspersed with thick, demarcating pillars. The dining room was appointed with the usual fine dining accoutrement: A harp player. Flocked wall paper. Fine china on charger plates. Ornate chandeliers. Large floral arrangements. Crystal stemware. Fine linen napkins and table clothes. The only grating feature of the room was an elaborately busy carpet more befitting of a casino than the flagship restaurant of Walt Disney World, but it didn’t detract too much from the elegance of the environment. It is a lovely, impressive room to be in, its décor completely timeless. The large backed, armed dining chairs were pulled out for us to sit, napkins were laid on our laps, and should you get up and leave the table, they will be folded neatly awaiting your return. Crumbs were swept away after every course. A few other tables were occupied, and people were talking quietly. As the night wore on, more and more parties arrived at their tables, but the noise level never seemed to rise much more than when we walked in.

The menus and wine lists were presented to us by our servers, a husband and wife team who worked in tandem with each other. It quickly became evident that they were both hardcore pros of this arena. Pleasantly conversational (but not intrusive) and happy to discuss all elements of the meal and the ingredients, they were more like guides than, say, traditional waitstaff. After telling them that we had last been here in 2013, (also with Todd and Jeff, incidentally) they advised that there had been changes in the restaurant. Chef Hunnel had moved up to Executive Chef, with Chef Aimee Rivera now installed as the Chef de Cuisine. Unlike in years past, there were no longer choices to made on the menu, other than opting for pricey add-ons or the full vegetarian menu. I like options and selecting from a menu, so this was a somewhat disappointing change, unless I wanted to go all vegetarian (I didn’t). Either way, you are now wholly at the mercy of the chef for the entire meal. As you had presumably made this reservation as much as 180 days in advance, with a frequently changing menu, you will have no idea what you are going to be eating until you check in and see your menu posted outside. So, having made the only decisions we could (opting for the pairings, plus a course of turbot for me and kobe beef for Jeff in celebration of his birthday), we strapped ourselves in and waited for the food to come.

The first of the waves started perhaps five minutes after we ordered, with a glass of Ruinart Blanc de Blancs champagne, generously poured. Perfectly chilled, with hints of lemon and citrus, it gave the start of this meal a celebratory feel. Then, an amuse bouche (i.e. small sampling) of king crab with imperial caviar. This tiny, yet explosively flavored bite of food was beautiful to look at and taste, even for me, not usually a big fan of seafood. This leads me to important point #2 about Victoria and Albert’s: The food you are eating is both of the highest quality ingredients, often sourced from around the planet, and those ingredients are prepared to highest standards by the cooks who are in the top tier of their profession. In other words, you are eating the best food in the world, prepared by some of the best cooks in the world. If they were to put a plate of asparagus in front of you at Victoria and Albert’s, you can be satisfied that it is the highest quality asparagus available on the planet, cooked with absolute precision, care and the highest level of skill. Because of these standards in food sourcing and cooking, I have a policy, when in restaurants like this, of being open to all foods, even ones I would never eat anywhere else. So, while I usually don’t eat seafood much in the outside world, in the world of Victoria and Albert’s and similar haute cuisine restaurants, I will eat whatever they put in front of me. The next course, an “Ora King Salmon, Black Sesame Tahini and Dashi Broth”, served with a glass of 2017 Matthiasson White Blend, is a perfect example. It was sublime, and I never would’ve ordered that in any other restaurant but here. And I have never regretted this policy, and it has rewarded me time and time again. I think, barring a food allergy or the like, you should do the same.

As I noted earlier, all of these rich dishes were accompanied by wines specifically chosen by the restaurant’s master sommelier to compliment the food. Even being a wine novice, I could taste the intertwined flavors of food and wine and how they danced in concert with each other. The interplay between the two was always symphonic, no matter the course we were in. And good lord, the bread service: a stream of different, freshly baked wonders that were still warm as they got to the table. One bread item, a brioche roll flecked with black truffle, was one of the best items of the evening. I mean, one of the most prized, expensive and rare food items on the planet, black truffle, baked in a bread? That was over the top luxury, like driving a Rolls Royce in a silk bathrobe. Even the salt served on top of the fresh butter was of distinction and pedigree as described by our serving team. I shamelessly stole my wife’s truffle bread when she went to the restroom.

The food now really started coming at us in a steady pace. This leads me to important point #3 about Victoria and Albert’s: This is a degustation menu, meaning it is several different courses (in my case nine) of smaller portions of food that add up over time to a full meal. When I say smaller, I mean that, with the exception of the main and dessert courses, there are perhaps two mouthfuls of food in any given course. The point of the meal is the different variety of flavors, not the volume of portions. So, if you are someone who values portion size as a factor when you dine out, you will not be impressed here.

As the wine began to hit us, more food, more impeccably prepared and sourced food, was coming in. A course of Rohan duck, with not a hint of gaminess, with badger beets and kumquats was laid down in front of us. Sweet and cleansing, and served with a glass of Etienne de Montille Chateau de Puligny-Montrachet Saint Aubin “En Remilly”, this dish was a beautiful example of the high degree of precision practiced by the kitchen staff. The presentation could have been put in the Louvre with its color palate and shape, resembling an appetizing caterpillar. A course of veal cheek ravioli, unquestionably my favorite of the night, of which I could have eaten eight more of, was next. Covered with shaved black truffles, and accompanied by an earthy, red 2010 Tauzinat L'Hermitage Saint-E’milion Grand Cru, it was everything that is great about haute cuisine. This magnificent, brilliant, rich course with an equally brilliant wine to match, was a show stopper in both taste and presentation. This brilliance was followed by the second-best dish of the night, a pleasant change-up featuring Southwestern flavors: Texas wild boar with elote (Mexican corn). Two of my dining companions called this the best dish of the night (but, they were wrong: that veal ravioli will be something I remember for years). Wild turbot, toasted capers and preserved lemon, a menu add-on, was next for me. The rich tasting white fish was cut perfectly by the acidity of the lemon, and the capers provided a wonderful vinegary element. Another home run.

Now pleasantly buzzed by the wines, and about two hours into the meal, it was time for the main course. Jeff, being the birthday boy, opted for the add on of filet of Kobe beef, the highest quality, most luxurious beef cut available, served with pureed celery root and pickled vegetables. It was cooked a perfect medium rare, no more, no less. The rest of us had Durham Ranch Venison, Fuji Apple Compote with Pearl Onion Petals. A fine course, but not main course fine, perhaps the first thud of the evening.

By this time, the pace of the service slowed considerably. After the main course, we had to wait longer for the impressive cheese plate that followed with its accompanying port wine (a favorite of mine). Still longer was the wait for the dessert that came next. I felt bad for the pastry chef, often the unfortunate loser in degustation menus such as this, as diners have usually hit the wall before their superlative desserts arrive. Our dessert, a pedestrian yet pleasing chocolate mascarpone banana offering, did its job, but not much more.

It was right around this time the mood shifted. Things got quieter at our table. That proverbial wall I mentioned earlier? We were spread out on it like bugs on a windshield. We were all full, tired, and not a little affected from drinking nine glasses of fine wine. It had, in the span of a few fateful minutes, all caught up with us. Jeff was falling asleep at the table. A man on the other side of the room was coughing as if he had tuberculosis. Our husband and wife serving team was getting slower attending our table, and by the time we received our last course, a selection of individually wrapped chocolate candies, presented in an impressive cigar humidor-like wooden box emblazoned with the Victoria and Albert’s logo, we were beyond ready to be finished.

So, we weren’t exactly in prime form mood-wise when the bill finally came. This leads us to important point #4 about Victoria and Albert’s: It is expensive. Very expensive. As in personally historic expensive. This evening, January 25, 2020, the set price was $225.00 per person, with the optional wine pairing costing $150.00 (plus tax, gratuity, and should you choose any, the aforementioned optional add-ons.) As a comparable, when we celebrated my birthday there in 2013, the price was $135.00 per person with the wine pairing costing a mere $60.00 extra. Disney inflation, it seems, extends to their fine dining as well as park tickets and room rates. But let’s face it: Someone has to pay for all of these billion-dollar acquisitions by The Mouse, and tonight, we certainly did our part. All told, with the wine pairings and a few options added, our half of the bill (we split 50/50 with Todd and Jeff) came to nearly a thousand dollars, making this easily the most expensive dinner I have ever had in my life. We knew this was going to be expensive going in, and the restaurant makes no secret of it prices, so it’s not like we were blindsided. Still, it was bloody expensive. I am by no means a frugal person, and have happily spent large sums on meals before, but nothing in the stratosphere of this experience tonight. But, if that’s not too much for you to splurge on, go forth unhindered. If that’s how you usually roll, congrats baller, you go do it up.

So, more than three hours after we had gone into this temple of gastronomy with the highest excitement and anticipation, we were now slinking out as if we had spent all night at a rave. This experience is long. 3+ hours long. As in the-monorail-closed-and-we-had-to-Uber-back-to-the-Contemporary long. As in had-to-stand-out-in-the-brisk-chilly-January-evening-waiting-for-said-Uber long. The memories of the superb food of only a few hours earlier was fading fast. Now full, drunk, and cold, waiting for our Uber, I wondered if I would ever do this again. The four of us could’ve eaten at Yachtsman Steak House or California Grill, still had an amazing meal, and paid 75% less for it. And, at California Grill, in addition to the superb food, we would have gotten the spectacular view and firework show.

Epilogue: As a final touch to the meal, Victoria and Albert’s gives the ladies dining there a single, long stemmed red rose as a parting gift. My wife took hers back to our room, where it sat for the duration of our trip. Every time I looked at it, the rose seemed to talk to me, always reminding me that I had spent nearly a mortgage payment on a single meal.

Disney magic of another sort.
 
Amen. Our most recent visit to V&A’s was our last. Our experience was similar to yours compounded by an obnoxiously loud table of four next to us, and a server that made us feel like we didn’t belong there because we didn’t go for all the upcharges. One pays that kind of money for the class and glamour. If the experience is defined by a thousand dollar rose, the money is better spent elsewhere.
 
Excellent review. DW and I went for our 30th Anniversary in 2012. At that time they accepted TIW which was great. They comped our drink bill because of some really loud tipsy guests at another table. Seriously debating splurging there again for our 40th Anniversary in 2022. However, DW has now decided that the Flying Fish is her new 'favorite' eatery (vs. CG), and for the price, we could eat at the FF 2-3 times vs. once at V&A. Tough decisions, but I think the V&A $$$$$$ aspect will be limiting and we'll go to high end TS before we do V&A's again.
 
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I miss choosing! I'm not a fish eater and I do like some seafood, but this menu was so heavily fish inspired. For $500.00 I would think I could at least enjoy what I'm eating.
 


Holy smokes!!! I really enjoyed your review, almost felt like I was there with you. The price, though! Yikes!!! My husband and I ate there only once, back in 2002, and I think we paid around $75pp, which seemed like a lot then. I doubt we'll ever go back, unless someone is treating!
 
Great review. My son and I ate there a couple of years ago while you could still choose. We both had the wine pairing and no add ons. In hindsight just one of us should have had the pairing while the other just had a mixed drink and shared (my poor son had to finish almost all of my wine every course). I think our bill came out to about $750. We enjoyed it and didn't regret spending the money but it was probably a one and done for us. Just because the price has gone up so much and like other's, I'm not a big seafood eater and it was just too much food for me, even my son couldn't finish all his by the end (again, poor boy finished most of my other courses). We loved CG and would do it again, my only complaint with them is they don't do a classic wine pairing but our server and the chef got together and put sort of one together for me.
 


Thank you for that review. My husband and I had the pleasure of eating at Victoria and Albert's about 5 years ago and it was by far the best meal we've ever had and an amazing experience. We recently took our son there for his 16th birthday and while the food was still amazing, I do see how it was a "different" experience. It was still a great meal and a great experience but it just was a little "less" than our first experience. And funny you should mention the wine pairings. We declined and just ordered by the glass but in talking with our waitress and mentioning that we'd be on the floor with all that wine, she did say that they had reduced the pours because they were finding that people were getting really drunk. So up the price and reduce the pour?! :ssst:
 
Victoria and Albert’s isn’t exactly on the beaten path in Walt Disney World. Almost hidden on the second floor off the Grand Floridian lobby, in the underutilized area outside the soon-to-be former Citrico’s restaurant, are two beautiful wooden doors with frosted glass inserts etched with the very Victorian font logo advising you that you are on the threshold of Disney’s highest of high-end dining experiences. The restaurant, for many years under the leadership of Chef Scott Hunnel, has garnered many top awards, including the prestigious AAA Five Diamond award (on display by the aforementioned doors). If the Michelin guidebook reviewed Florida restaurants, it would certainly earn three stars, the highest rating. Tonight, we (my wife Michelle and our friends Todd and Jeff) decided to come back to Victoria and Albert’s after a 7-year hiatus to see if the food, the service, and experience was as great as we remembered, a now legendary night that I still call one of the greatest meals of my life.

There is a dress code. Jackets and slacks for men (ties are not required, but if you’ve dressed up that much, why stop there?). Women are to wear “a cocktail dress, nice dress, dressy pants suit or a skirt with a blouse” (note that my wife didn’t wear any of those things, opting for tuxedo pants and a dressy sweater. Nobody said anything to her). So those people you see walking around in jackets and dresses in right before 8pm in the Grand Floridian? They’re probably going to Victoria and Albert’s.

After our monorail ride from the Contemporary, and before checking in to the restaurant, we stopped for a cocktail at the Enchanted Rose, which used to be the location of our favorite bar in Walt Disney World, the now-sadly extinct Mizner’s Lounge. The space formally occupied by this much-loved-by-us drinking establishment is now overlaid with a Beauty and The Beast motif because, as we all know, intellectual property now rules all things in Disney World. Still, it’s a beautiful room finished in the typically detailed Disney style with requisite Beauty and The Beast Easter Eggs. However, instead of getting classic cocktails from a charismatic bartender, as we had so many times in that very room (with the excellent band playing just outside) we received our cocktails in a near-silent room where the resident mixologist, working from an impressive drink cart, talked about the tears of love in our drinks (or something like that). Note to Disney: Not everything needs a story.

Mizner’s Lounge. Never forget.

Down the hallway, the rest of our evening awaited. There was a sense of anticipation about eating in Victoria and Albert’s; we all knew our culinary tastes were going to be challenged, and, if past history was any indicator, delighted. This leads me to important point #1 about Victoria and Albert’s: It is not a place for picky eaters, nor if your preferred special occasion restaurant is Golden Corral. This is a meal, yes, but an experience is a better description. Indeed, when you are shown to your table at Victoria and Albert’s, you have a pleasant, jarring removal from the theme park resort craziness outside. Suddenly, you are not in Kansas anymore. You enter into the calm, dimly lit, almost spa-like circular dining room interspersed with thick, demarcating pillars. The dining room was appointed with the usual fine dining accoutrement: A harp player. Flocked wall paper. Fine china on charger plates. Ornate chandeliers. Large floral arrangements. Crystal stemware. Fine linen napkins and table clothes. The only grating feature of the room was an elaborately busy carpet more befitting of a casino than the flagship restaurant of Walt Disney World, but it didn’t detract too much from the elegance of the environment. It is a lovely, impressive room to be in, its décor completely timeless. The large backed, armed dining chairs were pulled out for us to sit, napkins were laid on our laps, and should you get up and leave the table, they will be folded neatly awaiting your return. Crumbs were swept away after every course. A few other tables were occupied, and people were talking quietly. As the night wore on, more and more parties arrived at their tables, but the noise level never seemed to rise much more than when we walked in.

The menus and wine lists were presented to us by our servers, a husband and wife team who worked in tandem with each other. It quickly became evident that they were both hardcore pros of this arena. Pleasantly conversational (but not intrusive) and happy to discuss all elements of the meal and the ingredients, they were more like guides than, say, traditional waitstaff. After telling them that we had last been here in 2013, (also with Todd and Jeff, incidentally) they advised that there had been changes in the restaurant. Chef Hunnel had moved up to Executive Chef, with Chef Aimee Rivera now installed as the Chef de Cuisine. Unlike in years past, there were no longer choices to made on the menu, other than opting for pricey add-ons or the full vegetarian menu. I like options and selecting from a menu, so this was a somewhat disappointing change, unless I wanted to go all vegetarian (I didn’t). Either way, you are now wholly at the mercy of the chef for the entire meal. As you had presumably made this reservation as much as 180 days in advance, with a frequently changing menu, you will have no idea what you are going to be eating until you check in and see your menu posted outside. So, having made the only decisions we could (opting for the pairings, plus a course of turbot for me and kobe beef for Jeff in celebration of his birthday), we strapped ourselves in and waited for the food to come.

The first of the waves started perhaps five minutes after we ordered, with a glass of Ruinart Blanc de Blancs champagne, generously poured. Perfectly chilled, with hints of lemon and citrus, it gave the start of this meal a celebratory feel. Then, an amuse bouche (i.e. small sampling) of king crab with imperial caviar. This tiny, yet explosively flavored bite of food was beautiful to look at and taste, even for me, not usually a big fan of seafood. This leads me to important point #2 about Victoria and Albert’s: The food you are eating is both of the highest quality ingredients, often sourced from around the planet, and those ingredients are prepared to highest standards by the cooks who are in the top tier of their profession. In other words, you are eating the best food in the world, prepared by some of the best cooks in the world. If they were to put a plate of asparagus in front of you at Victoria and Albert’s, you can be satisfied that it is the highest quality asparagus available on the planet, cooked with absolute precision, care and the highest level of skill. Because of these standards in food sourcing and cooking, I have a policy, when in restaurants like this, of being open to all foods, even ones I would never eat anywhere else. So, while I usually don’t eat seafood much in the outside world, in the world of Victoria and Albert’s and similar haute cuisine restaurants, I will eat whatever they put in front of me. The next course, an “Ora King Salmon, Black Sesame Tahini and Dashi Broth”, served with a glass of 2017 Matthiasson White Blend, is a perfect example. It was sublime, and I never would’ve ordered that in any other restaurant but here. And I have never regretted this policy, and it has rewarded me time and time again. I think, barring a food allergy or the like, you should do the same.

As I noted earlier, all of these rich dishes were accompanied by wines specifically chosen by the restaurant’s master sommelier to compliment the food. Even being a wine novice, I could taste the intertwined flavors of food and wine and how they danced in concert with each other. The interplay between the two was always symphonic, no matter the course we were in. And good lord, the bread service: a stream of different, freshly baked wonders that were still warm as they got to the table. One bread item, a brioche roll flecked with black truffle, was one of the best items of the evening. I mean, one of the most prized, expensive and rare food items on the planet, black truffle, baked in a bread? That was over the top luxury, like driving a Rolls Royce in a silk bathrobe. Even the salt served on top of the fresh butter was of distinction and pedigree as described by our serving team. I shamelessly stole my wife’s truffle bread when she went to the restroom.

The food now really started coming at us in a steady pace. This leads me to important point #3 about Victoria and Albert’s: This is a degustation menu, meaning it is several different courses (in my case nine) of smaller portions of food that add up over time to a full meal. When I say smaller, I mean that, with the exception of the main and dessert courses, there are perhaps two mouthfuls of food in any given course. The point of the meal is the different variety of flavors, not the volume of portions. So, if you are someone who values portion size as a factor when you dine out, you will not be impressed here.

As the wine began to hit us, more food, more impeccably prepared and sourced food, was coming in. A course of Rohan duck, with not a hint of gaminess, with badger beets and kumquats was laid down in front of us. Sweet and cleansing, and served with a glass of Etienne de Montille Chateau de Puligny-Montrachet Saint Aubin “En Remilly”, this dish was a beautiful example of the high degree of precision practiced by the kitchen staff. The presentation could have been put in the Louvre with its color palate and shape, resembling an appetizing caterpillar. A course of veal cheek ravioli, unquestionably my favorite of the night, of which I could have eaten eight more of, was next. Covered with shaved black truffles, and accompanied by an earthy, red 2010 Tauzinat L'Hermitage Saint-E’milion Grand Cru, it was everything that is great about haute cuisine. This magnificent, brilliant, rich course with an equally brilliant wine to match, was a show stopper in both taste and presentation. This brilliance was followed by the second-best dish of the night, a pleasant change-up featuring Southwestern flavors: Texas wild boar with elote (Mexican corn). Two of my dining companions called this the best dish of the night (but, they were wrong: that veal ravioli will be something I remember for years). Wild turbot, toasted capers and preserved lemon, a menu add-on, was next for me. The rich tasting white fish was cut perfectly by the acidity of the lemon, and the capers provided a wonderful vinegary element. Another home run.

Now pleasantly buzzed by the wines, and about two hours into the meal, it was time for the main course. Jeff, being the birthday boy, opted for the add on of filet of Kobe beef, the highest quality, most luxurious beef cut available, served with pureed celery root and pickled vegetables. It was cooked a perfect medium rare, no more, no less. The rest of us had Durham Ranch Venison, Fuji Apple Compote with Pearl Onion Petals. A fine course, but not main course fine, perhaps the first thud of the evening.

By this time, the pace of the service slowed considerably. After the main course, we had to wait longer for the impressive cheese plate that followed with its accompanying port wine (a favorite of mine). Still longer was the wait for the dessert that came next. I felt bad for the pastry chef, often the unfortunate loser in degustation menus such as this, as diners have usually hit the wall before their superlative desserts arrive. Our dessert, a pedestrian yet pleasing chocolate mascarpone banana offering, did its job, but not much more.

It was right around this time the mood shifted. Things got quieter at our table. That proverbial wall I mentioned earlier? We were spread out on it like bugs on a windshield. We were all full, tired, and not a little affected from drinking nine glasses of fine wine. It had, in the span of a few fateful minutes, all caught up with us. Jeff was falling asleep at the table. A man on the other side of the room was coughing as if he had tuberculosis. Our husband and wife serving team was getting slower attending our table, and by the time we received our last course, a selection of individually wrapped chocolate candies, presented in an impressive cigar humidor-like wooden box emblazoned with the Victoria and Albert’s logo, we were beyond ready to be finished.

So, we weren’t exactly in prime form mood-wise when the bill finally came. This leads us to important point #4 about Victoria and Albert’s: It is expensive. Very expensive. As in personally historic expensive. This evening, January 25, 2020, the set price was $225.00 per person, with the optional wine pairing costing $150.00 (plus tax, gratuity, and should you choose any, the aforementioned optional add-ons.) As a comparable, when we celebrated my birthday there in 2013, the price was $135.00 per person with the wine pairing costing a mere $60.00 extra. Disney inflation, it seems, extends to their fine dining as well as park tickets and room rates. But let’s face it: Someone has to pay for all of these billion-dollar acquisitions by The Mouse, and tonight, we certainly did our part. All told, with the wine pairings and a few options added, our half of the bill (we split 50/50 with Todd and Jeff) came to nearly a thousand dollars, making this easily the most expensive dinner I have ever had in my life. We knew this was going to be expensive going in, and the restaurant makes no secret of it prices, so it’s not like we were blindsided. Still, it was bloody expensive. I am by no means a frugal person, and have happily spent large sums on meals before, but nothing in the stratosphere of this experience tonight. But, if that’s not too much for you to splurge on, go forth unhindered. If that’s how you usually roll, congrats baller, you go do it up.

So, more than three hours after we had gone into this temple of gastronomy with the highest excitement and anticipation, we were now slinking out as if we had spent all night at a rave. This experience is long. 3+ hours long. As in the-monorail-closed-and-we-had-to-Uber-back-to-the-Contemporary long. As in had-to-stand-out-in-the-brisk-chilly-January-evening-waiting-for-said-Uber long. The memories of the superb food of only a few hours earlier was fading fast. Now full, drunk, and cold, waiting for our Uber, I wondered if I would ever do this again. The four of us could’ve eaten at Yachtsman Steak House or California Grill, still had an amazing meal, and paid 75% less for it. And, at California Grill, in addition to the superb food, we would have gotten the spectacular view and firework show.

Epilogue: As a final touch to the meal, Victoria and Albert’s gives the ladies dining there a single, long stemmed red rose as a parting gift. My wife took hers back to our room, where it sat for the duration of our trip. Every time I looked at it, the rose seemed to talk to me, always reminding me that I had spent nearly a mortgage payment on a single meal.

Disney magic of another sort.
Terrific review, thank you! Love to experience this place vicariously because that's the only way I can afford to do so. :)
 
Loved your review! We ate there as a special 10 year anniversary in 2016 but the price is steep. I don't know if I'd do it again for the mortgage payment --er, price. Maybe as a celebration when the last kid is out of college in 12 years! :rolleyes:
 
OP thank you for that review. I have had the good fortune to dine in several Michelin star restaurants throughout Europe, so V & A’s has always intrigued me.

However at exactly zero of those restaurants was I not given a choice about what to order. While there are very few things that I won’t eat, I find that completely unacceptable. Obviously on those occasions there are items that are the chefs choice such as the amuse bouche, however I can’t imagine walking into that experience blind and without any say as to what I would like to dine on without a massive up charge.

Still, your writing definitely put me in the scene, and for a future planned trip I think I’ll look for another Signature instead based on this information alone.

That is, if they haven’t changed it back to the way they used to operate by that time.
 

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