Mention freedom to French people and they tend to go a bit wild. Sometimes, they have a revolution.

Other times, they break out ridiculously good champagne, fly in 250 specially made designer chairsand master chef and made a grand statement the way no one else really can.

The launch of the latest Motet grand vintage, declared the label's chef de cave, Benoit Gouez, was a "dinner of freedom". In the kitchen was Thierry Marx, a famous two-Michelin-stars chef.

The crowd, containing local dining and drink luminaries such as Simon Johnson, Justin Hemmes, Dave Evans and Guillaume Brahimi, as well as Sophie Faukner, Ruby Smallbone and actress Nell Campbell, was swollen with overseas contingents. I enjoyed a clear view of eye-pleasing Korean movie star Daniel Henney and glimpsed Singaporean talk show star Mary Lee.

As the 200 guests gathered at horseshoe-shaped tables in a vast hall of mirrors, we wondered what would happened next. We knew Peter Evans was helping Marx with the five-course meal. Would he be safe in the kitchen with a self-expressing Frenchman also rumoured to be a judo black-belt?

There was no time for concern because suddenly a long file of black-clad waiters emerged, carrying magnums of Moet 2000. They placed them reverently on a plinth at the centre of each table and then the first course came out. It was in a glass and appeared to be white foam but, as we ate, other things materialised inside it; truffles, soy beans and even a stealth oyster, which took us all by surprise. Marx was having fun already.

As older vintage Moets -1988, 1962- were poured into our giant flutes, the food became crazier. Some dishes emmitted smoke. One course consisted of a cube, a cone and some jugs and pots. Without a menu, we had to guess what to do and it became a sort of IQ test. Beside me, Ivy's Justin Tynan filled up his cone with sauce but it collapsed. i cut up my cube and bright orange things slid out.

It all tasted wonderful but we had to wonder what sort of man was behind this rather insane banquet. Would he emerge, karate chopping and crazed, at the end? Had he served up Peter Evans?

By now we were unnerved when Moet's regional cheif, Mark Bedingham announced the chef was about to enter, I closed my eyes in terror.

When I opened them, a small man with a shy sweet smile was on stage. He said a few modest words in French and then fled back to his kitchen. We'd met the culinary Wizard of Oz.

For desert, Marx came out among us, donned safety spectacles and dipped meringues in liquid nitrogen. He served them up with beetroot, as black baloons with chocolates dangling from them came floating past. I decided to slip away before anything lept out of my rose or the walls began to move.

It was only after I'd left that I realised: Peter Evans hadn't been spotted since the start of the meal. Reports that he later emerged from a giant, smoking pavlova are still unconfirmed. Back