(subtitle: please to ask for a shower at a nice two-star establishment)
i'd to do the taillevent thing a little delicately. was in paris on M's invitation and while he and F were sparing no cost to ensure my supreme comfort (oh boy was i spoilt), i most definitely didn't want them to buy me lunch at taillevent too. and, um, i didn't want to invite them to lunch their either because having lunch there alone was already stretching things, if you get what i mean. so i emailed them the moment i knew i'd a brief window of alone time on monday. in fact, i even emailed them in the alternative, asking if i could book tuesday if they were full on monday. they replied asap and after furtively oui-ing into my mobile, i was all set!
monday began on the best possible note with breakfast at laduree before M and F went to work. this gave me 2h to kill along the champs, sacrilegious at it may be to be pacing the champs thinking about my next meal instead of enjoying it for itself. i was way too distracted to take anything in. in paris, you're not supposed to smile apparently, because only retards smile to themselves. ooops, guilty as charged. as i floated down the champs, i'm pretty sure i'd an ear-to-ear grin plastered across my face and i didn't care who judged. breakfast at laduree is enough to send me trippin' but throw in lunch at taillevent and ooohlala an even more potent mix! vaguely remember moseying but really, i was just counting down the minutes to my reservation. although in an attempt to maintain some semblance of detached refinement, i was deliberately 10 minutes late. didn't want to come across as desperate ;) stepping to taillevent was like being transported into another world, cliche as it sounds and the next two hours passed in a dream.
the must've been an entourage of people just inside the door. an elegant greyhaired lady whisked my shopping bag away (never have i been so embarrassed by a gap bag) because carrying plastic bags to lunch just wasn't done. my sorry sac scored it's own hanger (!!!) in the cloakroom hehe and i was escorted into the restaurant unencumbered by tacky reminders of my misspent morning. the maitre'd introduced himself as jerome and i was promptly seated at my table set for one.
i don't know about you but i love lunching alone, pathetic as it sounds. well, only if it's a good meal and this promised to be. i do need to stop doing this lone diner in swanky establishment thing though, tend to do one per city and if the wait staff rotated they'd be onto me in no time! hmm i could even be elevated to an urban legend...
i was seated and the menu presented etc and we'd gotten this far speaking only french, granted, there is a relatively limited dialogue for interaction of this type. but the waiters spoke french to me and i spoke french back and everything was wonderfully french as i let my inner francophile loose. had the set and requested un carafe, s'il vous plait. in love as i am with fine food, i couldn't muster up the courage to spend on drinks too because i actually really like water and only probably ever drink water, or tea. the waiters were so classy they gave my lowly bottle of tap water its individual sterling silver bucket of ice :) and kept my glass religiously topped up. oh and speaking of silver the cutlery was christofle!
ordered and sank deep into the plush cushion and sighed contently. the choux puffs with cheese came and it was so delicate. one of the best things about dining alone is that i got a plate of 6 puffs on a serving plate while i exercised restraint and put those etiquette classes to good use by taking only one at a time, we all knew that they were MINE ALL MINE :) and then the real bread came with butter as good as laduree's.
the amuse bouche was some foamy molecular gastronomy thing infused with truffles. yummy but, well, foamy. am still unable to appreciate molecular gastronomy, it's a load of hot air if you ask me.
crab cake in crab bisque (or so i translate) for the starter and it was perfect. the meat was so fresh and the fibres separated from each other with such ease. the soup was soaked up by the meat as i spooned it into my mouth and this is the part that really impressed me because i'm a big soup fan. when my soup dried up before the crab was done, the waiter unobtrusively and immediately gave me a top of! such attentiveness and oooh, more soup :)
against my conscience, i'd gone with the foie gras for the main. oh come on! i was in france! and um actually i don't have any feelings for geese, i just try to be politically correct now and then. but foie gras! oui oui oui! and this, my friend, was the mother of all foie gras. it was perfection incarnate and if i died right after from coronary heart disease, i'd have been perfectly content. so simple, just one slab of perfectly sauteed foie gras with pear slices and skinned grapes forming little a circle of celebration around it. i probably ate it too fast but i did attempt to slow down at some point. i think.
the cheese course came next and while i'm not partial to the taste of goat cheese they did this one very well with apple and celery on the side to cleanse the palate after each nibble. and there were raisins (?) in the middle too so that took the sting off a little.
dessert was nothing short of delirium-inducing, beer sorbet and nashi (japanese pear!) and other fragile sugary creations that broke in my mouth.
assortment of
petit fours, another benefit of dining alone, i get a plate to myself!
it was probably the beer sorbet that made me ask for the shower instead of the ladies, although confusing cabine de douche with salles de bain is a schoolgirl error that only 'a muppet' would make. thankfully the waiter successfully concealed his smirk and escorted me to the ladies instead. guess they're used to patrons needing a post-meal cold shower.
on the whole it was a superb dining experience, i like that the price was all-inclusive, don't you just hate it when all the +++ make you regret not reading the fine print earlier? the wait staff were incredible. poised, unobstrusive yet attentive to a fault. i was very impressed. after i accidentally got sauce on the table, they swiftly put another tablecloth on to cover the offensive spill. and even though i didn't get crumbs all over the place, the waiter still patiently crumbed the imaginary bits of bread away. and they didn't seem to judge at all and were very polite without being obsequious, a hard balance in the service industry because the overeager ones make you feel bad with their enthusiasm. i was very grateful that i come from a school that emphasised etiquette and manners. when other girls were tramping through muddy fields at outward bound school, we were locked in seminar rooms for what they branded 'life skills' so as not to attract the (most undeserved!) taitais-in-training label. a few years on, i'm so glad that i know to dab my lips with a napkin and not swipe, inter alia. through the meal, the one 'rude thing' i did was to text him and my parents nonstop to share the experience with them. after all, what's good food without the people you love, especially when you know they're bigger foodies than you.
good food makes me more homesick than i realise. it's terrible, my stomach runs my life.
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