Claudia Winkleman: Take It From Me

'The others ordered Badoit and talked naturally. I, meanwhile, did a handstand when a man offered us a bread basket'

So I've been a bit out of it recently and the work offers haven't exactly been flooding in. Sure, my TV agent rings occasionally, but she sounds a little embarrassed when she runs through a list of proposals that I know Russell Grant has turned down. Do I want to be a talking head on the 100 Greatest List Shows Ever or did I fancy presenting a six-part series, titled Avocados - a Closer Look (they're making this, I promise).

So when a big gun from a TV production company called to see if I fancied lunch, I leapt in the air and got out a tube of Frizz Ease. It was going to be a meeting about "projects". This always means that they're not actually going to offer you anything, but that maybe they had a table booked and Sara Cawood cancelled at the last minute.

Still, I haven't been out of the house for a while and it seemed like a good opportunity. There were five of us. Martin, tall and handsome and in charge of stuff at the BBC; Laura, smiley and makes good shows; Tanya, cleverest woman I know, the best child psychologist on the planet; and Sam, a witty, pretty girl in vintage.

These people are more popular and have more lunches than me. They ordered Badoit and talked naturally. I, on the other hand, did a handstand when a man offered us a fried bread basket.

I should explain, we weren't in Pizza Express. In a bid to be the first, they'd booked L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon. There's been a lot of press about it because Robuchon has earned more Michelin stars than anyone, was named chef of the century and makes any other chef look like a guy on lettuce duty in McDonald's. I should have suspected that all was not normal when the girl on the front desk greeted me with a bow. I thought she'd dropped something so I bent down to search for the pen or phone. We bumped heads and she bowed again.

The dining room is black and white - think Blondie and the "Heart of Glass" video. Everyone was talking in hushed tones and there was a muffled "yes, again, again" from the next table. Assuming some enthusiastic footsie was taking place, I leant over. She didn't have her big toe in his pants, they just really liked the cod.

A friendly man called Michael came over to introduce us to the menus. Well spotted: plural. This was the most confusing 15 minutes of my life. There was a Menu Club with seven courses (including a jelly with crabmeat that is served hidden in a rock); there was a Menu Discovery that had about 18 courses, many of which were even more complicated than the crab in the boulder thing, and it looked like it might have to be eaten over 72 hours. Then there was the "regular" menu. It had a left side and a right, handily. The left side had small tasters and the right consisted of larger portions. One could eat from the left, or the right, or mix and match. "Choosing is key," another waiter said. "It's like a dance for your tastebuds but if you get it wrong, it could end in disaster." My head started spinning.

Dreaming of the ease of ordering at Burger King, I tried to make sense of it all (while flicking my hair and trying to say clever things) and ordered with trepidation. My hands were sweating and I whispered my order. One left, one right and one left again. Michael shook his head with disappointment. Seemingly I'd let him, and myself, down.

The food turned out to be delicious (a sea bass and macaroni creation made Sam do a lone Mexican wave), but we had to make decisions throughout. Did we want more langoustine carpaccio? Did anyone want to try the most famous mash in all the land? Did we fancy eating pudding from grey or magenta gold leaf-dusted spoons? Question, question, question.

I'm sure lunch would have been easier if they'd given us one menu with the normal amount to pick from. The people at that table make big decisions all the time (apart from me, obviously), but we were all totally flummoxed for the three hours we were there. Tanya said she wanted to cry at one point and Martin agreed he had to go back to the office to relax.

I used to read menus like I was reading Hebrew, from right to left (check price and then order). Then there was the Chinese takeaway when I ordered by numbers and then there were menus that explained that Zoe the cow had had a nice life and was now happy to be on my plate. All of those options seem like a breeze compared to this jungle.

Do we live in a world with too much choice? We already have to decide whom we're going to marry, where we want to live, if we want children, what job shall we do, what conditioner should we use (this I found more complicated than the others)? I'm not sure an endless decision-making process, choosing veal with peaches over veal with oranges, is useful.

As for the lunch, I left feeling like I'd just sat an exam and failed. It's true I don't have a million job offers to choose from (needless to say, I wasn't offered Newsnight), but I'm starting to think that avocados - a nice, simple fruit - do indeed deserve a closer look. Check it out on Channel 4267 in the new year.

c.winkleman@independent.co.uk