The French Laundry

"That's it. I'm fucking going."

 The French Laundry (http://www.frenchlaundry.com/) is generally considered one of the Holy Grails of gastronomy. Reservations can only be made two months to the date of the reservation. The restaurant is rumored to receive 400 calls per day. Tables for two cannot be made online. Tables for four can.
Even the website takes its deliberate time to launch.

The restaurant, located in Yountville, in the California wine country of Napa Valley only has two seatings, and the menu _ one nine-course chef's tasting choice, one 12-course vegetable tasting _ changes daily. According to its website, No single ingredient is ever repeated throughout the meal.  And then there is, of course, this gem from its "Menus and Stories" page:

"What we want for you to experience is that sense of surprise when you taste something so new, so exciting, so comforting, so delicious, you think 'Wow,' and then it's gone. We want the peak sensation on the palate to be all that you feel. So we serve a series of small courses meant to excite your mind, satisfy your appetite and pique your curiosity.  We want you to say 'I wish I had just one more bite of that.' And then the next plate arrives and the same thing happens, but in a different way, a whole new flavor and feel and emotion."

Now is the perfect time to talk about Cynthia, an ex-girlfriend from the year 1996. Cynthia holds a very special if not difficult for me to admit place in my life. She's the only woman I ever dated whom I thought was too attractive for me. Devoured by carnivorous insecurity, I couldn't get comfortable. (Note: In 1996, I did not  _ to use my boy Kevin Hogan's line for his beloved Philadelphia Phillies _ think like a winner.)

Cynthia is also the person who introduced me to the phrase "food orgasm." April 1996, Esperpento, 22nd/Valencia, San Francisco. She was wearing a beret during dinner and asked me if I had ever tasted a meal so delicious that the sensation was the equivalent of (or quite possibly surpassed) that of an actual orgasm. Unevolved, I made the mental note that Cynthia was nuts.

But it turns out that only was the beautiful Cynthia correct (I know this, because it has since happened: the squid pasta from Nobu (April 2002), the Kobe beef sushi roll from Oishii Boston (2007) and numerous meals in between.), but someone of her tribe is clearly writing for The French Laundry.


Oh, as I cool down, there's one more thing about the French Laundry you should know:

The menu is $250.00.

Per person.

That's $500.00 without even having a drink.

Here is a sample of today's:

http://www.tkrg.org/upload/fl_menu.pdf


So, what does any of this have to do with me?
NOTHING. I'll be in San Francisco in October. I called the restaurant. I got nothing. Shut Out. Done!

But homeboy Christopher Vyce and lovely wife Stephanie will be dining on September 26th, for their 10th wedding anniversary.  Now, I gotta go. GOTTA! As Jules Winnfield said in Pulp Fiction, "That's it. I'm fucking going."

And to confirm the Travolta response, Yes, I'll dig it the most.