I have been struggling with how to best represent my recent meal at The French Laundry. For those who don’t know of the renowned Napa Valley flagship restaurant of Thomas Keller, the cost alone is astronomical enough for many to disregard any positive feedback I might have regarding the experience itself. For those who know it who haven’t yet eaten there, the most common questions are 1.) How did you get a reservation and 2.) Was it worth it? The answer to the first questions is that I can’t take any credit for it. I tried all my connections in the world of food and beverage and try as they might, apparently special favors from this restaurant are rare and I am not on the short list of the lucky people. So my brother’s girlfriend did it the good old fashioned way: she called two months to the day in advance of our desired dinner date and minutes later we had a nine pm seating for four.
The answer to number two is a little more complicated. The short answer is yes. The longer answer involves the why. Why would anyone spend $250 on food alone for the privilege of a four hour experience of one chef’s culinary vision? It’s just food after all.
An outstanding dining experience most certainly involves the food but it is also a sum of the parts. In the case of the French Laundry, it starts with the menu. The occasion of our dinner was to celebrate my brother’s 30th birthday. When we were seated in our upstairs four top, at the top of each menu we received was neatly printed “Happy Birthday Paul!” And as we exited the restaurant at end of the meal we were each handed our own souvenir copy of our night’s menu complete with Paul’s birthday salutations.
Four hours and nine courses (not including amuse bouches and post dessert truffles, candies, and cookies) may seem a bit excessive, but when a chef is devoted to not repeating a single ingredient, save for staples like oil and salt, each course is like a whole new meal. I think a truly great chef will present you with familiar ingredients in unfamiliar but delicious ways and unfamiliar ingredients in recognizable ways that will make you want to eat it again every day of your life. In the case of the latter, the meat-eating contingent of my dining party agreed that by far our best course was the corned veal tongue which had been confited before being cured pastrami style, sliced paper thin and served with cubes of pumpernickel bread done pain perdu (french toast) style along with marinated cherry tomatoes and pickled red onion. I have never eaten veal tongue to my knowledge nor have I ever seen one confited and then corned. But if that dish was available every day of my life I could tell you I would probably eat it.
As far as perfection in the familiar goes, the rib eye cap of Snake River Farms beef was perhaps the single best tasting piece of beef I’ve had in my life. When my brother felt compelled to cut the beef into smaller and smaller pieces just so that the taste wouldn’t end, that might be the sign of a dish well done.
Does the restaurant border on the pompous? The answer is: it does if you let it. Between courses the first bread service arrived and with it came two servers to place brioche rolls on our bread plates and explain not only the bread which had been baked down the street at their Bouchon Bakery but also the two butters, one unsalted and hand churned coming from a local dairy in Petaluma, and the other enriched with fine sea salt from some organic dairy in New England. At that point I may have said (a little too loudly) that I half expected them to tell me that the egg wash on our rolls had been hand painted on by 30 midgets rescued from the circus. Our good natured head server let out a chuckle and from then on I think she realized we weren’t exactly the pretentious table that some of her others might be.
The salt from a 40 million year old mine in Minnesota served with our foie gras course might have been a bit much. And the chocolate truffle service and confection tray served after our dessert course might not have been necessary but when you are paying over $300 a person for dinner, it should be a bit much.
Not everyone I know who has eaten at French Laundry comes out confirming Thomas Keller’s status as the God of nouvelle French American cooking. But it is pretty rare to find someone who denies importance of the restaurant, the unique experience, the quality of the food, the overwhelming service, and finally the conviction that is was money well spent.
The answer to number two is a little more complicated. The short answer is yes. The longer answer involves the why. Why would anyone spend $250 on food alone for the privilege of a four hour experience of one chef’s culinary vision? It’s just food after all.
An outstanding dining experience most certainly involves the food but it is also a sum of the parts. In the case of the French Laundry, it starts with the menu. The occasion of our dinner was to celebrate my brother’s 30th birthday. When we were seated in our upstairs four top, at the top of each menu we received was neatly printed “Happy Birthday Paul!” And as we exited the restaurant at end of the meal we were each handed our own souvenir copy of our night’s menu complete with Paul’s birthday salutations.
Four hours and nine courses (not including amuse bouches and post dessert truffles, candies, and cookies) may seem a bit excessive, but when a chef is devoted to not repeating a single ingredient, save for staples like oil and salt, each course is like a whole new meal. I think a truly great chef will present you with familiar ingredients in unfamiliar but delicious ways and unfamiliar ingredients in recognizable ways that will make you want to eat it again every day of your life. In the case of the latter, the meat-eating contingent of my dining party agreed that by far our best course was the corned veal tongue which had been confited before being cured pastrami style, sliced paper thin and served with cubes of pumpernickel bread done pain perdu (french toast) style along with marinated cherry tomatoes and pickled red onion. I have never eaten veal tongue to my knowledge nor have I ever seen one confited and then corned. But if that dish was available every day of my life I could tell you I would probably eat it.
As far as perfection in the familiar goes, the rib eye cap of Snake River Farms beef was perhaps the single best tasting piece of beef I’ve had in my life. When my brother felt compelled to cut the beef into smaller and smaller pieces just so that the taste wouldn’t end, that might be the sign of a dish well done.
Does the restaurant border on the pompous? The answer is: it does if you let it. Between courses the first bread service arrived and with it came two servers to place brioche rolls on our bread plates and explain not only the bread which had been baked down the street at their Bouchon Bakery but also the two butters, one unsalted and hand churned coming from a local dairy in Petaluma, and the other enriched with fine sea salt from some organic dairy in New England. At that point I may have said (a little too loudly) that I half expected them to tell me that the egg wash on our rolls had been hand painted on by 30 midgets rescued from the circus. Our good natured head server let out a chuckle and from then on I think she realized we weren’t exactly the pretentious table that some of her others might be.
The salt from a 40 million year old mine in Minnesota served with our foie gras course might have been a bit much. And the chocolate truffle service and confection tray served after our dessert course might not have been necessary but when you are paying over $300 a person for dinner, it should be a bit much.
Not everyone I know who has eaten at French Laundry comes out confirming Thomas Keller’s status as the God of nouvelle French American cooking. But it is pretty rare to find someone who denies importance of the restaurant, the unique experience, the quality of the food, the overwhelming service, and finally the conviction that is was money well spent.
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