Squashed into a few Trumpton-like square miles in this town, smack bang in the middle of the Napa Valley in California, is the largest concentration of Michelin stars per capita on the planet. Yountville? Well, for once the hyperbole says it all. As The French Laundry is no longer the best restaurant in Yountville. I’d have far more respect for restaurant reviewers if they headbutted their food rather than wrote snide things about the chef after they’d gone. Many’s the time I’ve been eating somewhere and felt like throwing the chicken out the window, kicking the liver back to the kitchen or pouring the Chablis into a window box. I, on the other hand, thought this was how all restaurant critics should behave. The staff were horrified, although Georgia was annoyed rather than embarrassed (the cake actually looked quite good). So desperate that when the cake was finally in front of her, she – well, there’s no elegant way to say this – fell forward and headbutted her chocolate surprise with the sort of technique I’ve only ever seen used by nightclub bouncers. My youngest daughter had such bad jet lag, and the meal had lasted such a long time, that by the time the gateau got to the table, she was swaying with her eyes shut, desperate to go home. Occasionally there was a mishap (like when Georgia was less than impressed by the amount of bouillon in her bowl: ‘Mummy, this isn’t soup.’), but generally the waiters were magnificent. Or not, as the case may be.įor most of the meal, things were fine, and the staff went out of their way to appease our kids by adapting the food to suit them – for instance, while we worked our way through the tasting menu, sampling Maine lobster tail with globe artichokes, Nantes carrots, white pearl onions, parsley and Australian black-true emulsion, they wolfed down ravioli. (The restaurant does offer a $100 upcharge for truffles, but that was a little too steep for our wallets.) Even still, the food was memorable, albeit in a somewhat predictable way.When the cake was finally in front of my daughter, she - well, there's no elegant way to say this - fell forward and headbutted her chocolate surpriseīut it’s not every day you get a reservation at The French Laundry, so they were just going to have to like it and lump it. Every other great luxury meal that we’ve eaten has featured the rich, buttery delicacy, and its the one thing that would have propelled the food experience into the highest stratosphere. Though it’s a shame that California passed the arcane foie gras ban. The food, you ask? Of course, it’s excellent. We liked the red wine so much that we hunted it down the next day and bought some bottles to bring home to enjoy later.
The sommelier gave us the perfect recommendations, especially the Retro Cellars 2009 Petite Sirah from Napa Valley. Not surprisingly, the wine list was extensive, sophisticated and accessible. It’s as if our table was under surveillance. In fact, we quietly commented on not liking one server as much as the others, and we never saw her up close again. Seriously, the service is impeccable to the extreme. Compared to other high-end dining establishments, The French Laundry’s service is like Secretariat at the Belmont or Michael Jordan on the basketball court. The restaurant’s attentive focus toward every last detail of the dining experience separates it from all other American restaurants. Boxed Chocolates a/k/a French Laundry Swag Thoughts about our Dinner at The French Laundry in Napa Valley
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