The French Laundry (August 28, 2000)Yountville, CA We first heard of the French Laundry several months ago when we were planning the trip. Our guidebook gave it four stars, and, curious, I started poking around the web for reviews. What I found were two classes of messages: those who complained about a Draconian reservation system, and those who actually got in. The comments from the latter group universally included a statement like this: "This was the best meal I have had in {the last 10 years, the last 20 years, my life}." I couldn't find a bad review, something that's normally impossible to do on the Web. My interest is piqued. It turns out that Thomas Keller is a James Beard award winner, and his restaurant, depending on the critic's review you're reading, is either the best place to dine in California, the US, or North America. This is starting to sound like a great way to celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary, so we investigate further. It turns out the reservation system is, in fact, perverse. Do you want to get in? Here's what you have to do, if you're not a friend of the chef. Two months to the day of your desired visit, start calling the restaurant, at 10am Pacific time. Keep redialing until you get through. There are 62 seats in the restaurant, and they receive between 300 and 500 calls a day for these seats. If you didn't get through, too bad: you won't be going on that day. If you did get through, but got put on the wait list, your odds are grim. Our strategy; we know we'll be in the area for a week, so we start calling on the first possible day, figuring we have several shots at a table. So, on June 28, starting at 1pm Eastern, I try calling about 20 times in a row, getting 19 busy signals and 1 "all circuits are busy" before I say "to hell with this" and return to work. Stacey, however, is more persistent, one phone in each hand dialing like a madwoman, and on approximately the 50th attempt: success! We have a reservation for a table for two. We'll be eating one week ahead of our anniversary, but who cares. To confirm it, you have to call a different number exactly two days in advance, leaving a message after navigating a Byzantine voice mail menu. However, we've run the gauntlet, and we're ready. We show up exactly at 5:30 (the earliest they take dinner reservations), and are seated after a short wait. Relief: we're in! The decor is elegant and understated; it's by no means a large restaurant. Our table wasn't spacious, but neither was it cramped. Our server, Larry, introduces himself, and explains the menu, which I now explain to you. There are three ways to do dinner. The first way is to select an appetizer, a first course, a fish course, a meat course, and a cheese course, each from a set of 6-8 selections. The second way is a six course vegetarian tasting menu. The third way, and the way we both chose, was to go for the nine-course tasting menu; slightly smaller servings of dishes for which Keller is known, different every night. However, this is a once-in-a-lifetime meal, and for each of us to have the same nine courses seems like failure to take full advantage of the menu. So, we add one course from the main menu, letting Larry choose the point for it to make its appearance, and we make a substitution for Stacey for another course. More on those in the play-by-play. Having nailed down the food, it's time to address the wine. After a fairly weak description of our tastes (neither Stacey nor I are wine aficionados, by any means), Larry comes up with several wine possibilities, explaining how we might sequence them with the courses, and leaves us for a moment while we debate the selections and call up our bank to take out a second mortgage on our home. O.K., our decisions have been made. It's time to eat. Are you ready? "Cornets," Salmon Tartare with Sweet Red Onion Creme Fraiche No sooner has Larry left than another server appears, holding a Lucite triangle with a grid of holes. In two of the holes, wrapped in linen napkins, are tiny sugar cones dotted with black sesame seeds, topped with salmon. Looks like a miniature ice cream cone. This appetizer is served to everyone who dines at French Laundry; it's a Keller signature, and it's tasty. The onion creme fraiche is hiding in the cone, so I find the best way to blend flavors is to take a large bite. The salmon has a lot of lemon, with chives, but the creme fraiche is the winner here; almost like "cream of onion." I'm impressed, and we haven't even started yet! Schramsberg Champagne, Napa Larry pours our flutes while our first plate and silverware disappear. Never mind that we haven't used it to eat the miniature appetizers; every new course is preceded by a plate and silverware change. We're given a few moments to enjoy the champagne, while another server appears with two mother-of-pearl caviar spoons. Fresh bread and butter also appear from yet another server. Is that four different servers so far? Cauliflower "Panna Cotta", Evening Cove Oyster Glaze and Osetra Caviar A third server appears with the first course, which looks like a perfect oval of fish eggs on a perfectly circular flat dollop of cream. But it's pretty. I've never had caviar, so this will be new. First tentative bite. O.K., not slimy like I was expecting, but a little fishy, and very salty. How about the cream? It's dense, and whoa! it's like liquid cauliflower. Very intense flavor. I think I would have preferred just the cauliflower panna cotta, hold the caviar. We take our time, lots of flavor here. Hawaiian Hearts of Palm Salad with Medjool Date Vinaigrette, Grated Coconut and Cilantro-Infused Oil Server number five presents the next course, a pretty circular stack of julienned hearts of palm topped with a syrupy date vinaigrette, sitting in a perfect circular bed of green oil, flanked by two balls of coconut shavings. Hearts of palm is another new food for me: these are the shoots of undeveloped leaves from the core of a palm tree. Texture akin to water chestnuts, but softer, with a saline flavor reminiscent of the ocean. Interesting flavor. The coconut is fresh, and the date syrup adds good flavor. Strangely, I don't notice the cilantro oil. Fresh plates, and now comes a bit of a production. Terrine of Moulard Duck Foie Gras with Black Truffles and Truffle Salad There are some foods that I normally would avoid, organ foods being high on the list. I'm also not at all fond of liver pate. However, foie gras (fattened duck liver) is supposed to be a delicacy, and if we're ever going to try it, this would be the place to do it. In addition, I've never had truffles, and being a huge mushroom fan, I must try these. So, despite the $35 price tag associated with this single course, we go for it. Larry places it here, as a prelude to the fish course while we're still drinking champagne. Two servers come out with this dish; one server announces it and then holds the terrine dish while another server uses one knife to gently separate the foie gras from the dish, and then uses a second knife to divide it into halves, returning to the first knife to serve each half. Hey, do what you feel you must, gentlemen, I'm just passing through. A third server sneaks around on a short hook pattern to spoon truffle salad next to the foie gras. So, a description. Truffles; sliced very thin, almost a crunchy texture, look more like slices of dark chocolate than fungi. The texture is also somewhat crunchy, but surprisingly, very mild subtle flavor. I was expecting pungent mushroom. Foie gras: visually and texturally, think of a tan-brown colored slice of brie cheese. That's a perfect description. Taste: wow. Served almost icy cold, it starts off like brie as well, but then melts and develops a more earthy meaty flavor, nothing like liver. Unbelievably good, and now I'm happy we sprang for it; I was a bit worried after the relative blandness of the truffles. I savor the foie gras and the champagne, I like life right now. Stacey is enjoying it too, but it's very dense and filling, and it's taking her a while. After the first couple of bites, a server appears with fresh baked brioche toast, upon which you smear the foie gras and then eat. Five minutes later, if even that long, the server reappears, takes our now lukewarm slices of brioche away, and provides us hot new ones. Are you kidding me, this is too good. Larry reappears. "How is everything so far?" "Unbelievably good," I say, riding the champagne high. He smiles, he knows. The sommelier appears with a flourish, to present the half-bottle of white burgundy (I should have mentioned this earlier, the wines are half-bottles, and we only had a couple glasses of the champagne. We wouldn't be tasting anything after three bottles of wine, except perhaps the floor). 1997 Colin-Deleger Montrachet white burgundy This was my favorite wine of the evening, and it was perfectly suited for the fish courses. The best I can describe it is a fruity, almost peachy white wine, with very little acidity. Sauteed Filet of Dorade with Fennel "Hash" and Preserved Lemon Butter Cream of Cilantro Soup with Avocado and Onion (I don't remember the real title, but this is close) Here's where Stace did a switcheroo from the main menu. Stace loves cilantro, as much as one can love any herb, so she had to try it. The presentation: a perfect cylindrical pile of avocado, topped with slices of onion, in the center of a bowl. The server then ladled the cilantro soup around the pile at our table. The taste: first the shock of cold, and then the freshest cilantro you've ever tasted, in pure green liquid form. Just intense flavor. My dish, the sauteed fish, was excellent as well. A mild white fish, the dorade skin was crispy, and the fennel and lemon blended nicely. This was the first hot dish of the evening (brioche slices excluded), and it was a nice change of pace. The fish was prepared perfectly; apparently, before they saute fish, they "squeegee" the skin with the back of a knife repeatedly, to squeeze out all of the moisture. This allows the skin to crisp while keeping the flesh tender. Sweet Butter Poached Maine Lobster with Wilted Arrowleaf Spinach and Saffron-Vanilla Sauce The best course of the entire vacation, and one of the best single dishes I've ever eaten, period. Presentation: pieces of lobster tucked into a perfect cylinder (you may be noticing a theme), flanked by spinach, in a yellow cream sauce. First bite. Whoa, that lobster is tender. And fresh. And the sauce, oh man. Creamy, vanilla-sweet, just a hint of spice, I want to bury my face in the plate and lap like a dog, and I suppose for what we're paying, I probably should. But decorum reigns, just barely. I disappear to my own private little food Nirvana for a while. I can't hear you. Eventually, it has to end. Bear in mind that none of these courses are big, or even medium-sized; perhaps 2-3oz of lobster at the most. Stace looks up at me: "We need to take a break." I inform Larry we'll be taking a breather. "What, after foie gras and lobster?" he jokes. I ask if it might be possible to see the kitchen, and he shows us outdoors, where there is a vantage point from the patio where you can view the action through screen windows a few feet away, while remaining out of the way. It's a culinary machine; like clockwork, 15-20 cooks move almost noiselessly and purposefully around the kitchen, actually not a very large kitchen. I watch, fascinated, as one chef prepare a fresh batch of cornets for a table of four, and then we walk through the back garden, where a variety of strange and aromatic herbs are growing for use by the kitchen. We return to our seats, unannounced, but somehow they know we're back, and Larry materializes out of nowhere with the final half-bottle of wine. 1998 Selene Merlot, Napa What can I say? Your basic merlot. I don't think Napa is necessarily known for merlots, cabernets being the grape of choice, but my tastes aren't refined enough to know the difference. All Day Baked Hobbs Shore Pork Belly with Caramelized Savoy Cabbage and Grain Mustard Sauce This, I think, is where the kitchen showed off its technical skill. Here, in taste and texture, it most reminds me of Peking duck, with a crispy layer of fat on the outside of the meat. Tender and juicy, and the grain mustard sauce clearly has a wine reduction as a base. Nice intense meaty flavor. I enjoyed this much more than I was expecting, after seeing "Pork Belly" on the menu. Rib-Eye of Elysian Fields Farm Lamb "en Persillade" with a "Cassoulet" of Summer Pole Beans and Thyme-Infused Extra Virgin Olive Oil I love good lamb. This fit the bill. "En Persillade" simply means "with parsley and garlic," which was sprinkled lightly on the meat. The thyme oil was very aromatic, and again the flavors blended well. The beans had a nice garlic flavor. A comparatively simple dish, but with fresh ingredients, a winner. Stacey was really slowing down here, and, I thought, just getting full. I figured with pacing, we could get her through the rest, we're two-thirds of the way there. Redwood Hills "Crottin", Slow Baked Heirloom Beets and Red Beet Vinaigrette The cheese course. A little goat cheese and beets, with a basil leaf. This was good, but so simple compared to the previous dishes (and, unlike the others, attainable at home) that it felt like the kitchen was taking a breather. Although it would be hard to blame them, and frankly, after the lobster, I probably would have slogged through dung-on-a-stick if that had appeared on the plate. Here's where things took, well, a turn. After one bite of this dish, Stacey excused herself to get another breather. I continue nibbling contentedly on my cheese. I sip my wine. I work on the cheese some more. More wine, ah, that's good. More cheese. Well, that's done, yet another tasty course. I wonder where Stacey is. After a little wait, a server appears, asking if Stacey is done with her plate. I suspect she is, it's been a while. Finally, she reappears, with a weird smirk on her face. S: "I feel a lot better now." She managed to make it outside to the front stone fence, where she produced, ounce-for-ounce, the most expensive vomit she will likely ever create. She explained that she informed a nearby server of her "creation," who was suitably mortified. For some reason, I felt proud. It's one thing to get reservations at an exclusive place and enjoy a spectacular meal, but just how rarified are your tastes when you throw it up in the front of the restaurant? The princess has spoken, your tributes are rubbish. Oh, my wife. She seated herself, and shortly thereafter, we're pulling out of the pit stop again. I'm somewhat scared at this point, but not enough to be seriously concerned and stop eating. It's dessert time! Think South Park, Cartman: "I want my pie. Pie, pie, pie." White Corn Ice Cream with a Cornmeal "Financier" Another beautiful creation. Sitting atop a cylinder of polenta, itself resting in a bath of caramel sauce, is a disc of white ice cream, topped with a paper thin caramelized crisp of cornmeal. The polenta is warm, and the ice cream: it's sweet corn ice cream! Somehow, it works. Who would have imagined it. "Chibouste au Fruit de la Passion et son Coulis" Here, the kitchen took some liberties with the menu (fine by me). I was served the dish above, a warm passion fruit custard atop a crumbled sugar cone crust in a vanilla sauce. Even better than the ice cream. Stacey got a dense chocolate mousse "ball", drizzled with white chocolate and topped with gold leaf. And then, a little bonus, introduced by Larry as "strawberry pot au feu." They're taking liberties with the names; it's a tiny ceramic pitcher, filled halfway with a strawberry panna cotta. Like the cauliflower, it's creamy and intense: pure fresh strawberry. Mignardise Are we done? Is it over? Not quite...two more small pastry trays appear. One has four small fruit tarts, of which the passion fruit tart is the best; the other has four tiny bite-size meringues of different flavors, sandwiched in tiny macaroons. Larry dropped by our table one last time, and I expressed my delight at the evening's meal. "Would you like to speak to the chef de cuisine?" Sure, let's do it. We made our way back to the kitchen, and had to wait for a bit. Turns out Keller's out of town, but Eric, his second-in-command (who looks like he's maybe 20 years old) is running the show. Shake hands, great dinner, etc, etc. As much as I'd love to hang out "backstage," it's clear Eric is harried, as his station is where the final touches are applied to each dish, and plates are stacking up like planes at a United hub. We make a quick exit. O.K., it's really over now, four hours later. Best meal ever? Well, it's hard to say "best ever." There have certainly been equally flavorful and enjoyable meals, if not as sophisticated. But, a month later, I'm comfortable calling it "first among equals." Even with the puke. We drive back to the hotel, Stacey succumbing to embarrassment as I roll through a litany of vomit jokes. Somehow, I still have room to snarf down the chocolate on the pillow. I am a glutton. Love me.
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