The French Laundry

I entered sacred ground last Saturday, April 3rd, 2010. Here are photographs of (nearly) every dish and course served over a three and a half hour period of overindulgence.

This is the signature amuse-bouche at French Laundry, the salmon tartare ice cream cone; it was a short-lived burst of black sesame and crème fraiche.

Another signature dish at French Laundry, oysters and pearls. The tapioca pudding was an added sweetness to the caviar and reinforced the buttery-ness of every single bite. I think this might have been my favorite course of the night (though I shouldn’t get ahead of myself since it’s actually just the first course).

Zillion-year-old jurassic salt, grey salt, and salt from the Philippines to compliment the supplemental foie gras terrine spread. They also gave us these fresh buttery slices of bread from the Bouchon bakery. The primary course was a compressed Asian pear salad with turnip, broccolini, cashew, komatsuna, and ginger.

Next up is the Columbia river sturgeon with red beets, potato, cabbage, roe, mustard, and crème fraiche. The yukon potato was prepared like a tater tot, but I had no qualms about that at all.

The supplemental dish to the sturgeon was the pavé, a term related to stone setting — the food is prepared and plated as squares or rectangles in a couplet, of Japanese toro. A server showed us the slab of toro before it was prepared and it was definitely a sexy piece of tuna. The lightly grilled toro was another highlight; it out-shined the sturgeon in texture and intensity, so it was hard to go from the toro to sturgeon.

French Laundry’s take of the caesar salad: butter-poached Maine lobster tail, garlic melba (as the crouton), lettuce, and “bottarga di muggine” — a cured fish roe — grated on top to simulate the taste of anchovy.

The weakest dish of the night was the chicken and dumplings; the gnocchi was delicious, however, but could not redeem the plainness of chicken in tarragon sauce; it reminded of an expertly cooked version of Chinese chicken you can get at your local restaurant.

The alternative was cervelle de veau, or calf brains. Deep-fried into a nice little ball served with velouté. It was topped with frisée and black truffle. Gooey, crunchy, and tangy. All plus points in comparison to the chicken and dumplings.

At this point it was getting a bit unbearable. The food kept coming at evenly paced intervals, but it still felt like a marathon. Trouser pants were already slim enough at the start of dinner, but now I was ready to undo a button. Next was the lamb saddle served with sauce paloise. A bit too salty on my first bite, but the rest of it was exceptional.

Things began to wind down after the lamb saddle. This is the fourme d’ambert cheese with grapes, endive, walnuts, mâche, and wine reduction. At this point it was hard to consume the cheese with starches — I was strategizing how to survive the rest of the meal, and that meant forgoing all the carbs.

Steel-cut oat sherbet with granny smith apples and foamed apple sauce, and a crust of homemade granola. The crust was very pie-esque in its crunch. With the addition of the rum raisin coulis sauce, it reminded me of an actual slice of dessert pie.

Lemon tart cake with coconut and something else I forget to keep a mental note of. You gotta cut me some slack here. At this point they’re serving desserts not even on the menu and I’m curious as to how much shit they were going to spring on me. I don’t even like coconut but I powered through it to stave off the overwhelming food coma that was lingering around the corner.

Savarin au citron, citrus vierge, olive oil, and Straus dairy sorbet glacée. Second was the best dessert of the night — the peanut butter bavarois with banana sorbet. It was like a reese’s pieces with an airy, fluffy center and a crunch from the brittle and pie-like crust.

Last was the homemade candied macadamia nuts and chocolates. Thai chili, salted caramel, and other things I can’t remember. They’re boxed up and I’m looking forward to eating those in the future.

18 photos later, this concludes the chef’s tasting menu at French Laundry. The service was amazing to watch; it was seamless and orchestrated in a methodical manner — one that had checks and balances to ensure every patron had his/her needs met. French Laundry exceeded my expectations, and I hope to experience it again some day. For now, my wallet is a helluva lot lighter and it’s going to take some time to recover physically and psychologically.