your finest restaurant meal in excruciating detail, please

In My Humble Opinion
1

I’m a former restaurant/catering chef of 20 years standing (left the business cuz of bad back and empty pockets). Since I live in the Bay Area (California), I’ve been fortunate enough to dine at some of the finest restaurants around (French Laundry, Bistro Jeanty, Acquarello, Chez Panisse, Aqua, Campton Place, Oliveto [my fave]), sometimes on the company dime. Bliss!

But my bestest, most romantic, most memorable restaurant meal was at Cafe Beaujolais in Mendocino on the occasion of my first anniversary, in August 1996. Let me tell you about it.

First off, the power was out, as it often can be up them parts. Did that stop them? Nooooo! They have their own generator for occasions such as these.

The restaurant is in an old clapboard-y New England-y type of house. We ate upstairs on an enclosed deck overlooking the bluffs by the sea. There were fresh flowers on the table, and candles, and a restaurant cat that wound its way from table to table. It was almost dusk as we started. As the meal progressed, the sky darkened and we could see one or two bluff houses wink their lights on. Most did not, however, as the power remained out for most of our meal. The room took on the most romantic golden glow from the candles.

We started with two glasses of Iron Horse Wedding Cuvee rose champagne. We split an appetizer of day boat scallops skewered on a rosemary stem, grilled, and presented in a pool of Meyer lemon cream with a nice pile of crisp-sauteed radicchio. I knew at once I was in the presence of culinary greatness. The sweetness of the scallops was interlaced with the most delicate rosemary perfume; the char of the grill and the bite of the radicchio complemented but did not overwhelm, and the creamy sensuous tang of the sauce finished the plate with roundness and finesse. Truly memorable.

The waiter brought a very creditable bottle of Navarro Pinot Noir, all smoke and velvet, and we sipped leisurely as we waited for our entrees. There was a wonderful sense of leisure, almost indolence, about the whole place. Nobody looked at their watches, craned their necks for the waiters, tapped their fingers impatiently. Nobody wanted to be anyplace else.

I had a double thick veal chop, grilled juicy and perfect, nestled in saffron risotto, and moistened with a port demiglace. I love veal chops, I love risotto, I loved this dish, but I couldn’t keep my fork off of my wife’s plate. It was simply the best plate of restaurant food I had ever tasted (later supplanted begrudgingly by Todd Humphries’ braised short ribs and potato puree, but I digress).

Grilled sturgeon with fresh fettucine and wild mushrooms in a truffle emulsion. Simple, yes; perfect, quite. The fish was grilled just right, it tasted wild and fresh caught, a touch of game, an incredible combination of smoke and sea. The pasta was littered with candycaps, chanterelles, shiitakes, snap peas, sweet sweet baby carrots. The truffle emulsion was concentrated and utterly indescribable, rich buttery earth and sharp savor. The flavor lingered on and teased my tongue and made me wish I was a Victorian maiden, so I could swoon and have to be revived by having my wrists chafed. The smoke from the grill mingled so headily with the erotic muskiness of the truffles and the velvet tang of the wine. My wife’s eyes flashed amber in the candlelight as she playfully warded off my straying fork. My hand caressed her silk-clad thigh, and the restaurant cat twined between our legs. My God, people!

We sipped the last of the wine as we waited for the dessert menu. She asked for a chocolate bavarian with raspberries; I ordered a vanilla bean charlotte which came with wild fraises du bois the size of my thumbnail. The waiter poured a glass of Frog’s Leap ‘Late Leap’ Late Growth Sauvignon Blanc for us to share, to this day the finest dessert wine I’ve ever tasted. Its floral, tropical syrup accented the tiny fragrant strawberries and heavenly vanilla flavor of my dessert in a most spectacular fashion.

Each bite, each sip of this meal was so perfectly defined and of itself I likened it to opening a flavor dictionary. Rosemary, scallop, truffle, vanilla. We drifted out of the restaurant as if we were walking on air, holding hands in a pillowy haze of utter contentment. It was my finest restaurant meal and I shall never forget it.

Tell me about yours. Take your time.

2

God, essvee, I feel like I just watched you masturbate…

:slight_smile:

3

um, is that a good thing?

4

Food means very little to me. I need it to live. That’s about as far as it goes.

I can’t remember anything special about any food I’ve eaten, really.

5

Well, I’m a newbie chef, just fresh out of culinary school. I try to eat at the best places in L.A. when at all possible (usually finances keep me back, though). For my birthday, just before I started school two years ago, my boyfriend treated me to dinner at Patina.

We ordered the prix fixe meal, with the wines selected by their sommelier. I don’t remember the wines very well (by the end of the evening I had over six glasses of wine, and I forgot to note them before I left).

When we first arrived, we just ordered a glass of champagne, while we waited for our table. It had a beautiful, honeyed-floral boquet without being too sweet. We ordered the meal, and an amuse-bouche of a super-rich mushroom soup came in a tiny china cup–about 3 sips worth. If I had not been in a nice restaurant, I’d have licked that cup clean.

Our first course was an Ahi carpaccio with capers and lemon and basil oils. It was just so fresh and delicate, like fine sushi. IIRC, it was served with a fantastic Spanish Albarino (this is the wine that stood out over the evening for me, and got me hooked on Spanish whites, even though the good ones start at around $19 a bottle).

Second course was a poached John Dory filet on a bed of braised cabbage, served with sauteed green grapes and applewood smoked bacon. I’m very fond of John Dory, and this fish was done perfectly. I was leery about the grapes, but they went well with the fish.

Next was seared foie gras with roasted butter pear and a concord grape emulsion. Yum. It was decadent.

The main course was beef short rib braised in red wine, served with chanterelles and roasted potatoes. The beef was so tender you didn’t even need to bother with a knife.

Dessert was a chocolate-hazelnut millefuille that had this lovely crunchy center, and was served with a 15 year old Madeira.
I’ve been wanting to take a culinary tour of Northern California (once I have the funds). If anything, I need to make my pilgrimage to Chez Panisse.

6

It all sounds so beautiful. I feel like a Dickensian urchin, pressing my nose to the cold glass of the monitor and watching the fabulous meals in the posts and and thinking “Maybe I can eat that way someday…maybe…”

GuanoLad: if you give it the chance, food can be one of the greatest pleasures in life. It doesn’t have to be that way at every meal, but every so often, it ought to be.

7

I’m not a chef or culinary professional of any type, but I am an avocational eater. :slight_smile:

I was skiing with friends near Traverse City, Michigan. We saw this restaurant, Topawingo, listed in one of those hotel magazines and called and made a reservation. “When do you close” we asked, because we weren’t yet that hungry. “When do you want to come?” they asked in reply. Er… “7:30?” we said “We’ll be waiting!” they responded cheerfully.

It was snowing hard as we left and we got lost three times. They very graciously kept giving us directions via cellphone. We were half an hour late arriving, and when we got there, we realized we were all a bit underdressed. the restaurant was in an old hunting lodge, but furnished in a non-animal-head-focused decor with lots of windows looking onto the woods. The staff was SO gracious despite our lateness and lack of appropriate attire.

Is the amuse-bouche that little bite of something they start you with? Yeah, it was some kind of mushroom deliciousness wrapped in phyllo – 1 bite. I ALMOST asked for another before recalling my manners.

Then I had a cold first course of smoked whitefish with shaved green apples and smoked salmon with (I think) shaved daikon radish. the smoked salmon had a silky texture more like lox. I ate it reeeaaaally slowly so it would last. The crunchy/smooth sweet/smokey/salty/horseradishy textures and tastes. mm-mm. My friends had this carrot soup with ginger that was AMAZING.

We had a David Bruce Pinot Noir and that’s where I learned that I really like Pinot Noir. (I’m rather ignorant about wines yet, I’m chipping away at it).

then there was leg of lamb with a mustard crust and garlic smashed potatoes which was SO good, and so much of it, that I actually took some home. The lamb was juicy and cooked to absolute perfection, and was the perfet thing for the snowy winter night. My friends had swordfish and “venison 3 ways.” I didn’t really try their food except for a bite of the stewed venison which was delicious and very tender for game. the grilled venison was served with a sauce of Traverse City cherries but my friend ate it all before I could sneak a bite. :slight_smile: I think that means it was good.

Then we shared a desert which was something choclately with homemade hazelnut ice cream. The meal concluded with a small plate of chocolates.

All throughout the service was incredibly gracious, and even though we had arrived late and were the very last people in the restaurant, at no point were we rushed, in fact they enouraged us to take our time.

And did I mention that all this joy came to about $40 a head (before wine)?

(note: I have a terrible memory and this was about 4 years ago. I wish I could recall more details)

8

javamaven and hello again thanks for your posts. javamaven, ive heard great things about patina, it all sounds scrumptious. the albarino sounds wonderful, and the john dory with bacon and grapes sounds just perfect, just my kind of plate. been to campanile or nobu?

hello again, a fabulous description of a fabulous meal. seems like your memory is workin just fine. being a native new englander, i really respond to cold weather food. and i adore smoked fish. man, that sounds good! ive tasted at the david bruce winery, and i agree, his wines can be divine. hes got several single vineyard releases; keep your eye out for the russian river one, its my fave.

guanolad, thanks for your input.

9

Nope, haven’t been to Nobu since they’re in New York. :slight_smile:

My SO used to work a 1/2 block away from Campanile, so I’ve been there for lunch, but not for dinner. My favorite lunch was a grilled Parma ham and Gruyere on sourdough with a frisee salad and a panna cotta with chocolate-espresso sauce.

I often went to La Brea Bakery, which is attached to Campanile’s building, and is Nancy Silverton’s little pet. On the few times I had to drive him to work, I’d stop in and pick up coffee and a sweet–they didn’t make too much in the ways of pastries (they were very focused on bread), but they would have a few. The orange danish was heaven–rich, buttery, full of fresh orange zest.

10

Yeah, essvee, I understand. That’s why I refer to Food Network as “The Porn Channel.”

For me, the circumstance has a lot to do with the enjoyment, and the “memorableness,” of the meal.

Once, a few friends & I were stuck in Whittier, Alaska, during a snowstorm. At that time, there were no roads out, just the train, which was getting buried fast. We decided to have dinner (in the complete absence of other things to do) and I had, I tell you what, the most amazing fish-n-chips I have ever had. The halibut that we ate was pulled out of the ocean only a couple of hours before. Since the bones in a halibut are huge, you can cut the meat off around them in big chunks, and that is what the chef did. These chunks were about 1 1/2 or 2 inches cubed, dipped in beer batter, and fried to absolute perfection: crisp, light, flaky, moist, perfect. The fries were tender on the inside, crisp on the outside, and we sprinkled vinegar over them. Afterwards, we hung out and drank coffee until the railway was cleared off somewhat, and we actually made it back to Anchorage that night. Whew!

Another time, my husband and I had happily ditched the young 'un with my parents, and we were merrily mountain biking through the forest in Flagstaff, AZ. After many hours, we were sweaty, filthy, and most of all hungry. We drove by Flagstaff’s French restaurant, Chez Marc. We didn’t really have time or energy left to go back to the hotel (20 miles away) and change in time for dinner, but how could such a place let us in, at 5pm on a Sunday, with bicycle grease on our legs and pine needles in our hair? They did let us in, and gave us a front porch table, out of sight of the properly dressed diners, where we could sit in the lovely weather and watch Flagstaff walk by. We showed our appreciation by ordering a mountain of food. We started with Artichokes with Aioli, continued with beautiful little composed salads in a sweet vinaigrette, then on to Boeuf Bourguinonne (spelled incorrectly, sorry) for me and roasted chicken with herbs for him, all heavily garlicked and liberally buttered, and ended with fruit custard tarts, coffee, and his annual cigar. We spent 3 hours in the place, eating, drinking, chatting with the staff, and having a grand time in our stinking t-shirts and shorts.

I remember plenty of other great experiences, including my first True Dutch Beer, but this post is getting long enough. And now I’m hungry.

BTW, my hubby thinks I’m very strange to remember so many great meals in detail from years and years ago. But I’ll bet I’m not the only one who does that!

11

javamaven, d’oh! whats his LA restaurant called? have you been there?

theobroma, thanks. i agree that circumstance enhances the memories substantially. if aforementioned meal hadnt been my anniversary, if the power hadnt been out, would i have remembered it quite so? the fish and chips sound fabbo, and, did you have to ride yer bikes HOME from chez marc? hope not!

im hungry too.

12

Not a chef but a person who loves a good meal out. There are three meals that stand out.

The first was in Key West at Cafe Des Artiste, had a great appetizer of mushrooms in a puff pastry, main course was their signature Lobster Tango Mango. (I’m not a big lobster fan but this was truly inspired.) The dessert was a rasperry sorbet in a canoli shell. WooHoo. (I ended up dating my server from that night. That was really the best part of the meal.)

Further up the Keys, we had dinner one night at Little Palm Island. WOW!!! You take a boat to get to the island, we were sitting on the deck, watching a storm move in from the Atlantic, lightening flashing on the horizon. There are five tables out on this naturally occuring sand barge, the waiters and patrons are barefoot, toes and edges of table cloths in the water as waves lap over. I had the grouper, fresh, with papaya salsa, really really nice. When in the Keys, do the fresh local seafood, ya can’t go wrong. The dessert was a passion fruit creme brulee. Again I say WOW. Far and away the most romantic dinner ever. It’s the place I want to be proposed to. (One of those tables on the sandbarge.) sighs dreamily

Finally, just last month a group of us went to Charlie Trotters. Again I say, WOW!! Eight courses. The vegitarian was a study in corn and the meat was themed as the best of the midwest. Some really nice zinfindel to go with it and a server who was far and away the best server I have ever encountered.

13

Oh, and the tour of Trotter’s kitchen after the meal. The cleanest busy kitchen I had ever seen. (I have worked with some fastideous chefs.) I really cannot say enough good things about CT’s.

14

I didn’t think Trotter’s was so great…didn’t live up to the anticipation for me. I had the same problem with Chez Panisse. Not that the meals there weren’t wonderful, but I’d be hard-pressed to remember just what the hell I ate. There was some kinda salad at Chez Panisse, with goat cheese and radicchio, I remember that much. It was pretty good.

I had a much more memorable dinner at that Thai place on the north side of Chicago…ironically, I can’t remember the name of it.

Help me out, Chicagoans…it was rated the best restaurant in the city a couple years ago (which is when I dined there); it’s in a rather crumby neighborhood, across the street from a car-glass operation.

15

Maybe Arun’s? The story is that the chef is self-taught and cooks as a labor of love or art. (Yeah, it sounds smarmy, but this guy is sincere–beautiful food, just beautiful.)
We had to wait well past our reservation time at Charlie Trotters and there wasn’t even any room at the bar so they asked us to wait outside. And the staff were snooty and the meal was not memorable. Everyone has an off-night now and then.:slight_smile:

16

To sort of echo Ukulele Ike most New Yorkers know that the price of a meal sometimes has no bearing on how much you enjoy it. My most expensive meal was at Chanterelle. It has a beautiful room as you can see from the website. We all dressed up, something we never do for restaurants. The menu was handwritten in beautiful calligraphy. But I was shocked to discover that NOT ONE THING ON THE MENU APPEALED TO ME. I settled on the duck. They brought us an appetizer that was kind of a seafood mousse in tiny pie shells topped with caviar. We wolfed these down and I thought that it was the best part of the meal. My duck was fine, but not out-of-this-world. To save money we ordered no wine and no dessert. The price? Consider that this was eight years ago. With tax and tip: $100 per person. Just imagine what it would have been with wine and dessert.

Thank goodness for Chinese & Indian restaurants and Jewish Delis.

17

Arun’s, THAT’S the place, thank you! On North Kedzie.

18

Our greatest dining moment was totally unplanned, completely serendipitous - and that’s part of what made it great.

The setting: a nice, romantic vacation, one of the very first we could afford (we were impovrished students during the first half of our lives together) - a nice, seaside town. We spent the morning wandering on the beach, the afternoon in, um, other pursuits, which made us hungry, and decided just to walk down the sole main street of the town until we found a place that looked good.

Did I mention I have New Restaurant Fear? I do. So the place we ended up was almost the last one before the street ended - I kept chickening out. It was a little Italian restaurant, the name of which is gone from both our memory banks. Didn’t look like anything special from the outside. Inside, it was very nice, small and intimate. We sensed that we might be just a tad underdressed. I wanted to flee, but the LO was steadfast, and the servers got us into seats ASAP, despite our lack of reservations. (This often happens to us the first time we visit a restaurant - the LO attributes it to my look of open, stark panic. She says they take one look at me and know if they don’t get us seated I’ll run out the door.)

Did I mention this was an off-season, mid-week vacation? And we were eating very early, too. The restaurant was nearly empty. This made my panic much, much worse. The LO was watching me carefully - she knows how much I can take in these situations, and I was about at my limit.

Then we saw the menu. First scan presented nothing, but nothing I could eat. (I’m a vegetarian. Yes, I know. No comments, please.) Server, sensing more trouble, swooped in to ask if there was a problem. LO explained my dilemma, as I was in the final stages of Severe Panic and far beyond speech. He said, “Oh, that won’t be a problem. Did you [addressing LO] already have something selected?” She shook her head - how can she pick something if she’s not sure I’ll be eating? He suggested the prix fixe meal - normally it’s meaty, but “the chef will be happy to be creative.” The LO agreed, knowing it was either that or get me the hell out of there, and also knowing there was no chance of getting me into another restaurant that evening. He asked a few more questions (dairy? eggs?) and departed.

We spent some miserable moments. She worked on distracting me, which was damn near impossible, and I worked on breathing. Challenging under the circumstances, let me tell you.

Server reappeared, bearing exquisite plate of - hmmm. We couldn’t tell, beyond the obvious appetizer-y nature of it; it was an assortment of small, lovely items attractively arranged. LO served me, then herself (I have a tendency to be clumsy during times of stress).

I took the first bite and my taste buds exploded. The world’s most sinful and delightful thing to do with mushrooms - tangy, rich, perfectly complementary sauce. (My first adult encounter with porcini, by the way.) I think I tasted truffle in there somewhere. All presented in a flower bud. The whole appetizer set was like that - lovely to see, incredible to eat. By the end of that course, my panic was evaporated, completely gone. (The wine probably helped too.)

First plate. Pasta. Not just any pasta, though - perfectly fresh, perfectly made (my father is a pasta-phile, and hence so am I), spicy pasta made with nettles. Sounds awful, but I have never tasted such marvelous pasta. The sauce was simple, a bit garlicky, and set it off perfectly. Also present: two different filled pastas (truffle, pumpkin) and a marvelous, simple orichette dish with fresh baby peas. All of it orgasmic.

Second plate, and I was wondering what they were going to do. Instead of the traditional meat, we got grilled vegetable risotto, the best risotto I have ever had - creamy and rich and bursting with flavor. I’ve spent the intervening years trying to make my own risotto like that was, with no luck at all. (I make a good risotto, mind you. But this was the Platonic ideal of risotto.) Also stuffed portabellas and zucchinis, which were fabulous.

Dessert was just as good, but by that time we were so full we thought we couldn’t eat any more. That fantasy disappeared as soon as we saw the tiny tartlets, the fresh berries, and the panna cotta - my all-time favorite dessert - with a tangy mystery berry (not any berry I ever met before) drizzle.

At the end, we stumbled out into the night, knowing we’d just had an unduplicatable, perfect meal. It was incredible. And the cost? Just under $20 each. (Not including wines or tip, of course.) Half of the cost of their normal prix fixe meal.

I have never, never had a better meal, and I’ve been to Patina and the Ivy and L’Orangerie and Matsuhisa and all that. I’ve used Zagat’s in five cities, but I’ve never found a place as good as the one that we happened upon by accident.

Wow. Now I’m starving.

19

I am a firm believer that the best meal is one that you didn’t expect to be that great. Going to a place that has been recommended, and you know will cost a lot, will probably end up as a great meal, But for it to be trully overwhelming it must be out of the blue.

My dad has the world’s greatest gift for finding amazing hole-in-the-walls. We could just be walking or driving down the street anywhere in the world, and suddenly his spider-sence would off as he got a faraway look in his eye and said “why don’t we eat there”. It always seemed to be in the dirtiest possible part of town, with a grime covered stairway down(they always seem to be downstairs) to the weatherbeaten cracked door. The places are always a fair amount worndown, with faded seats, and ancient menus, and servers casual clothes and an apron. They were always so damn good, but none of the town natives had ever heard of it, but it quickly became a regular part of their routine. Unfortunately the gift was not passed on to me. Every time I try to pick a restaraunt out of the blue, we end up in a stinky old crap-hole that serves undercooked Lobster and human hair in every meal.

On to the meal. It was in a place just like that(the first half of the preceeding paragraph, not the last sentence)somewhere in the Bay Area about 12 years ago (have to ask my parents if they remember better. I know we had one great meal in Sausalito that trip, but i don’t remeber if it was this one). Maybe 15 tables in the whole place, and our party took up three of them pushed together.
Appetizers were plentiful with stuffed mushroom, oysters, and artichokes. But my favorite was a deep fried sausage(reminicent of Pepperoni, but subtler) served with a couple mustard sauces.

My meal was a mouthwatering grilled pheasant in a red wine sauce over fettucini(it’s possible the fettucini was a side that I mixed in with the sauce, my memory sucks). Desert was a Chocolate Amaretto torte for me (and a little bite of everybody elses choices :slight_smile: )

Oh yeah and about 350,000 great laughs that quickly involved the whole restauraunt in the conversation, and had the servers laughing so hard they could barely hit the glass when they tried to pour.

20

I can understand the not living up to the anticipation thing. We all decided that ya gotta go once but that we wouldn’t go back. It was memorable and we had fun and I have great memories of that evening.

Also, there are some great Thai restaurants along Southport by the Music Box Theater.