It’s a good read; smart, funny and well-paced. Clare Rayner’s boy grew up on chopped liver and matzo and salt beef on rye, and describes himself as "Jewish by food". He is at his best when describing the pastrami at Katz’s Deli in New York, the garlic snails of his first solo restaurant experience, and the table talk, with smart-arse intelligent chefs or with his wife Pat, who sounds like an eminently sensible woman.

The rest of it – the high-blown meals, the multi-courses, the minutiae of table service, the obscene prices of dining in the Michelin-approved style – while perfectly current, already feels a little dated, which could possibly be his truest comment on the state of dining in the year 2008. The great restaurants of the world aren’t, after all, the most glamorous, expensive, or three-starred. As Mario Batali is quoted as saying, "three Michelin stars has become nothing more than a guarantee that the ultra-rich could eat the same food anywhere in the world". Where in the real world, then, will you find the perfect dinner? I can feel a sequel coming on.

The Man Who Ate The World (£16.99) by Jay Rayner, published by headline review