The Eiffel Tower

In February 2005, before L & I were married, we took a weekend trip to Las Vegas. I have to admit, I'm not a huge Vegas fan. I don't particularly care for gambling (and I suck at it!) But we had never been to Vegas together and we thought it would be fun. Well, it was more than fun. It was one of the most memorable trips of our lives.

We stayed at the Paris Hotel, which, if you're not familiar with it, has a giant replica of the Eiffel Tower as its calling card on the famous Strip. The hotel is charming, with various homage to the true City of Lights. Amidst the casino, there was a little creperie serving crepes with nutella, and several French-themed restaurants including Mon Ami Gabi, a most excellent and authentic French bistro. But the best restaurant in the place was The Eiffel Tower restaurant. It was located in the middle of the faux Eiffel Tower, above the riff raff in the casino. We decided to have dinner there on Saturday night.

I remember that whole day, L was acting, well, busy. I took a long nap while he went to the gym. When I woke up, no L. He came back an hour after I woke from my 2 hour nap. I asked him where the hell he went and he made some vague excuse about working out "really hard" and then getting a steam. Then we got a strange phone call and he told me it was his boss who wanted to tell him to enjoy his weekend off. That really seemed strange. Why the hell would his (now ex) boss call and say that? Something seemed amiss, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

As we were getting ready to go out to dinner, I called an old friend from college, who lived in Vegas, and invited her to meet us for a drink at the bar at the restaurant. L nervously asked if she was going to join us for dinner. I told him I had not invited her to do so, but we should play it by ear. Somehow that made L seem agitated. The dilemma was resolved when she told me she couldn't make it. Still, it was unlike L to not to be social.

We arrived at the restaurnnt. The maitre'd knew my name and told us our table wasn't quite ready. "How did he know my name?" I wondered. Just a couple minutes later, the same man returned to tell us that our table was ready and to follow him. So we did.

He led us to the best, the very best, table in the restaurant. I mean, this table was one of the best tables I've ever sat at in my life (and so remains to this day.) Let me explain, the restaurant which was several, no many, stories in the air, has floor to ceiling windows that overlook the Vegas Strip. The Paris is across the street from the Bellagio, so the focal point of the panoramic view is the Bellagio fountain. We were seated in the corner so we had an 180 degree view and were directly facing the Bellagio fountain. It was magnificient. I said to L "how did we get this table??" He was equally impressed, but not responsive.

Soon the waiter brought our menus. I picked mine up, glanced at it, perused it, but continued yapping away about nothing and sipping my cocktail. L said "what are you going to have?" I told him I really didn't know yet. He urged me to look at the menu. I didn't know why he was rushing me to make a decision. I wanted to enjoy the scenery and take my time. But I began to read the menu.

It all looked fabulous. Hmmm, what should I get. Wait...what was that? Did I see the words "diamonds and sapphires" used to describe one of the entrees? That's weird. Let me read that again. What is a "Princess Special?" What kind of meat is that? What kind of cut of meat is an "emerald cut diamond?" And it's got 2 sapphires..is that a side I've never heard of? I'll have to ask L...but wait..what does that say on the next line say..."will you marry me, D?" WAIT.....THAT'S ME!!!!

I looked up from my menu, in complete shock. L saw the shock on my face, knew I had (finally!) seen the proposal and jumped down on one knee with a diamond and sapphire engagement ring in his hand. I said yes. The servers applauded.

I think that was the most romantic moment of my life. (The food was good, too!)

There's No Place Like Ecco

Recently, on a local radio show, Ian Sommerholder (formerly of Lost, now Vampire Diaries and an new Atlanta resident), told the morning DJs that Ecco was his favorite spot in Atlanta. Gee, Ian, tell me something I don't already know.

Ecco opened in midtown in 2006. Even tho the building that now houses Ecco was a crack den until a few weeks before Ecco opened, the place has been an instant classic since the day it opened. It's a beautiful restaurant. You know how some restaurants you go to look so ultra-modern and ultra-hip that you know in two years time, they will look completely dated? Not Ecco. Ecco is timeless. I've previously mentioned my love for French bistros. Well, Ecco is the french bistro's Italian cousin. And it's a restaurant that improves with time. Everything on the menu is good, but if you can only order one thing, get a charcuterie plate(and if they have the house-made Meyer lemon ricotta cheese, pick that for one of the cheeses!)

Needless to say, L and I love Ecco. And when we're there, we're treated like family. That's what makes Ecco so special to us. It's just like home. We've been taking A there since he was in still in a baby carrier. In fact, Ecco was the first restaurant we took A out to dinner. We sat the car seat on the bar and had a lovely dinner at the bar. A slept through most of it, when he wasn't smiling at all the staff. It helps, too, that our old friend Brent now works at Ecco and whenever we come in, Brent is there to take care of us.

So now they know us. And they've watched A grow. They seem genuinely delighted when we come with A. Once they even sat is in the very center of the restaurant. Had the highchair waiting for us when we arrived.

At our most recent visit, we violated my "no dining with child later than 6:00 pm" rule and showed up after 7:00. I felt bad. There were adult diners there. People who really didn't deserve to be subjected to my 2 year old. Thank God for Brent. He tirelessly entertained A while his parents were too tired or too distracted to do so. (We just wanted to enjoy an awesome dinner at Ecco without too much interference from A.) Brent was my hero that night. He not only kept my child entertained; he made sure our food and drinks arrived promptly AND he waited on several other tables at the same time!

Recently, I saw that Ecco added skate wing to the menu. Mmmmm. That and the fact that Ian Sommerholder apparently hangs out there has got me itching to go back. (Oh, and I miss Brent, too!)

Key West

Before my recent trip to Key West, I asked a friend, who had been there, his impressions. My friend, who grew up in New Orleans, replied "It's a low rent Bourbon Street." I certainly get the comparison. But you can't discount all the party spots in American simply because they are not New Orleans. Certainly, it's true that other spots pale in comparison to the Cajun Queen, but they have their own merit nonetheless.

Such is the case with Key West. L, our son A and I just returned from 5 days in Key West. I have to say, the food was a bit of a disappointment. Mostly beach food, nothing truly outstanding. The best dinner we had was at Maison de Pepe, a fun, touristy cuban joint located right in the heart of Mallory Square (where the nightly sunset celebration occurs). When eating in Key West, focus on fish and cuban food and you should do fine. (Don't, as my husband did, order a pasta dish at a seafood restuarant. That's just dumb.)

What's fun about Key West is the whole surreal-ness of it all. I think most islands develop a certain surreal quality to them. It takes a certain personality to choose the island lifestyle. Key West embodies that attitude. The history of Key West is marked by a fierce sense of independence. I think, at one point, Key West tried to secede from the US and named itself the Conch Republic.

The main attraction in Key West is Old Town, or more specifically Duval Street which consists of a mile and half of endless bars, restaurants, offensive tee shirt stores, art galleries, and other opportunities to buy crap that says "Key West" on it. But it's fun. People are REALLY enjoying themselves. Certainly, I was raised not to have a cocktail before 12:00 pm, but in Key West, I was in the minority. Every morning when I walked by a bar and saw someone sitting there drinking a beer, I'd have to check my watch. What time is it??

It's not so much the bar scene that made it surreal. It was a series of other things: it was the friendliness of the homeless alcoholics. If you're going be a homeless alcoholic, Key West is the place to do that. Since everyone there is in some state of intoxication, the homeless alcoholics feel a little more like part of the team. In normal society, they are ostracized. Not so much in Key West. So they join your conversation as you walk by, or they start random conversations with you. They loved my son and wanted to know all about him. They were not at all afraid to ask personal questions about his background.

We also loved the drag queens, who really rule the town. To say this town is "gay friendly" is an understatement. (But all good party towns are!)

One night, L & I got a sitter so we could do some partying on Duval Street sans two year old. We heard about a "clothing optional" rooftop bar so we decided we had to check it out. Upon entering the bar, we were greeted by a group of fully dressed patrons all watching a smaller group of naked couples dancing. Naked drunk couples in their 60s. Who had been in Key West for a LONG time. Now I doubt these people had just randomly come up to the bar and took their clothes off and started dancing. I'm pretty sure that the bar paid these people (probably in alcohol) to dance naked every night. Regardless, I felt like I was in a Stanely Kubrick movie.

Another surreal incident occurred one afternoon when the three of us were walking downtown to catch the sunset celebration (surreal in itself). As we were walking, we heard a loud crash, followed by loud moans and the sound of glass breaking. We looked to our right, and saw a guy riding a bike had just smashed into a car parked on the street. We asked him if he was ok. He didn't even look at us (and we were 3 feet away). He grunted "yeah" and got back on his bike and sped away. It was 5:30 in the afternoon! Man, that was a surreal incident that scared the crap out of me!

I think the most surreal event was watching the Catman's show. As I mentioned before, every night at sunset, a celebration ensues in Mallory Square (located at on the pier on the tip of Old Town.) Street performers amass and shows go on all over the square. But the best show, the only one to see is the Catman.

The Catman has been performing in Key West for quite a number of years. He looks just like Mr. Burns on the Simpons, only with long, shaggy gray hair. He has a thick accent (French, I think) which makes him somewhat indecipherable. Well, it could be that he's talking nonsense and that's why it seemed indecipherable. He was a certifiable mad man. His show involved his cats jumping through hoops, and catching treats in their paws, and culminated with the cats jumping through rings of fire. (How the hell do you teach a cat to do this??) Both my son and my husband were entranced with the Catman. I thought my child was going to have seizures of delight watching the Catman's bizarre antics.

Go to Key West, the carribean New Orleans. You'll sure to be entertained!

Holy Moly, Guacamole!

I have a confession. I am a whore for mexican food. I mean, if I could smear guacamole all of myself and then dive into a giant bath of margaritas...well, let's just say, that would be bliss. My husband shares my passion. So much we do love Mexican food, that we actually got married in Mexico. For weeks before the wedding, we talked about the food we would be eating while in Mexico. And the guacamole. Mmmmmmm, the guacamole.

And this is why we love Rosa Mexicano. Yes, it is a chain and comes from New York, not Mexico, but still, they know what they're doing over at Rosa Mexicano. And they have the best, the very best, (even better than in Mexico) guacamole on earth. I could literally eat the whole bowl myself, but my husband insists on sharing it with me. (Why doesn't he get his own???)

While we crave Mexican food generally, and guacamole more specifically, let's face it: no matter what you eat, Mexican food is never not fattening. So we're quite judicious about frequenting our favorite mexican restaurant in the city. We wait til we can stand it no more. Til we're dreaming about guacamole. Til our stomachs ache for it. Til I find myself caressing avocados in the grocery store in a trance...with visions of Sunday brunch at Rosa Mexicano dancing in my head.

It's not just the guacamole that's good (although we can't get past that). Everything is good. The queso fundido...cheesy and chorizo deliciousness. The chile aquiles..more cheese/ham deliciousness, only with eggs. The shredded pork tacos....ohhhhhh, to die for.

Oh, I can't take it any longer. I'm off to rendevous with Rosa....

Nightclub Dining

Back in the day, I spent most of my weekends hanging out in nightclubs til the wee hours of the morning, and sleeping all day. Way, way back in the day, I spent my weekends hanging out at in the rock clubs sustaining hearing loss while listening to loud rock bands.

But that's all changed. Frankly, I'm too old for either of those scenes. Plus, as a mom to a two-year-old, I can hardly stay out all night and sleep all day. Truthfully, it wasn't the child that changed my lifestyle. It was the relationship that preceded the child. When you're in a relationship, hanging out in the clubs til dawn loses its allure. The man in question, my husband L, is passionate about food and works in the restaurant biz. Hence, our foodie lifestyle.

I wasn't on board immediately with the whole parade of endless restaurants. What made it click for me is, at the same time that my lifestyle was changing, so was the dining scene. Suddenly, restaurants became the new hot spots; the "it" places, the places to see and be seen, where all the cool kids went. I dubbed this new scene "nightclub dining." My dear friend Brad was more candid in his observation. After having dinner at a new Atlanta restaurant, he said "it's for people who are too old for the clubs, but don't realize it yet." I remember when he said that, I blushed. I felt...exposed.

On a recent Saturday night, I had dinner at RA Sushi, a new sushi restaurant here in town. Sadly, I think was too old for the scene. Alas!

RA Sushi takes nightclub dining to a whole new level. My friend and I walked into the restaurant and were greeted with loud, thumping music courtesy of a DJ in the corner mixing the beats. The cocktail menu included a section of shots. Seriously. Shots. The bar area was packed with hot women and guys on the hunt. There was even a bachelorette party at the bar. Here, the emphasis was definitely on the "nightclub" and not so much on the dining.

Except that, the food was good. And plentiful. We ordered lobster egg rolls and the appetizer came out with 4 eggrolls. Have you ever seen that? Usually, you get two, sometimes only one that you have to split in half. The sushi rolls, although a little odd in their descriptions, were quite good. So, while I probably won't go back for dinner. I'll definitely go back for lunch.

Boulevard of Beyond Our Dreams

As L finished his last forkful of food at Boulevard the other night, he looked at me and said "that was one of our top 5 meals. Ever." High praise indeed. Particularly, for a restaurant that I dismissed not once, but twice, in my quest to find the best San Francisco dining experience.

Let me back up: In preparing for our recent vacation to San Fran and Napa, I did what I usually do: I scoured the internet searching for all the best restaurants. Who cares about the "sites?" Where will we eat? Will it be fabulous? How can I be sure? The stakes are higher now that we have child. We simply can't go to all the fabulous restaurants we want to. For this trip, we planned on getting a sitter one night in Napa and one night in San Fran. So we had one shot in San Fran to have the perfect dining experience. Obviously, finding the right restaurant is no easy task.

Based on an article on epicurious.com, I narrowed my search to two restaurants. Then L nixed one of those choices and added a pick of his own. I noticed some high praise for Boulevard in Zagat, but I didn't put it on my "A" list, instead I put it on my "B" list. Finally, L & I agreed on Spruce (mainly because I liked the cocktail menu.) Alas, although I called 2 weeks in advance, the only reservation I could get was at 5:30 or 10:30 (I thought I had misdialed and somehow reached Nobu!) Feeling dejected, I was back at aquare one.

A couple days later, I sat in my office and noticed the word "Boulevard" written on a scrap of paper and I remembered I had to make a reservation somewhere fast. L's pick was Restaurant Gary Danko. I just wasn't excited about that pick. Later, I noticed that Wine Spectator had given Restuanant Gary Danko really high marks. So, I started to get excited about the prospect of dining there. Called the restuarant, tried to make a reservation, and they essentially laughed at me. "Wow. This was going to be tough," I thought.

I went back to the Wine Spectator article. And there it was. Boulevard. It kept coming back to me. Calling me. So I went back to there website and looked at the menu. I had looked before, but it didn't grab me. The second time, however, it did. I called and they were happy, pleasant, accommodating! I asked for an 8:00 reservation on a Saturday night and she gave me 8:15!!

Later that day, I ran into a friend who spends alot of time in San Fran, and told her that I had made reservations at Boulevard. She said "oh, that's the place I was going to recommend! You'll love it!" Later still, L's cousin came over and told us he had eaten there and loved it.

So it seemed destined.

And it did not disappoint. Boulevard is a lovely restaurant with warm lighting and lush, homey (perhaps, a little dated) decor. We were thrilled to discover that they serve our favorite champagne (Billicart-Salmon Brut Rose) by the glass! Dinner was fabulous and dessert was even better. (And I have to say, the people watching rocked, too. Across from us, was a 50-something guy with a 20-something hottie, and while it was definitely not their first date, I'm pretty sure it was their first "sex" date. Behind me, was 60-something guy with a date who looked like he plucked her right out of high school. Based on her ridiculous attire, I was pretty sure she was a working girl, and a low rent one, at that.)

Was it a Top 5 meal for me? Probably not (and that list is a post for another day!) But it was excellent and memorable and a wonderful San Franscico dining experience, which is what we were after.

Ode to the Bistro

I began my love affair with French bistros in the summer of '04. I was living in Manhattan and New York the French bistro is ubiquitous, to say the least (or more specifically, steak frites, which apparently is a staple of the New Yorker's diet.). The first bistro I stumbled upon was Les Halles. A mere block from my apartment in lower Manhattan, it quickly became my Friday night regular spot. The steak frites was awesome. Ludovic, the french bartender, charmed me, but, I must say, I never grasped the significant of the hard-boiled eggs on the bar.

A few blocks away, was the legendary Odeon. That quicly became my Saturday night spot. Abdul, the handsome Morroccan bartender, kept me entertained, and I also had the good fortune of meeting Denzel Washington, while at the Odeon. But, I must say, I thought the food was better at Les Halles.

The jewel in Manhattan's bistro crown goes to Balthazar. Balthazar is breathtaking. It's got everything a good French bistro should have. Warm lighting, a beautiful room, accented with giant, gorgeous flower arrangements. And the food...amazing. Best escargot in the city. The skate wing and steak frites probably get tops in my book, too.

Since leaving New York, I have continued my love affair with the French bistro. In Atlanta, tho, we really only have one: FAB. And it is fabulous. Pistachio profiteroles? Are you kidding? Send me to heaven. I would say that we have growing list of restaurants that are more like cousins to the French bistro. Ecco, one L & my favorites, is sort of an Italian bistro. One Midtown Kitchen, sort of an American hipster cousin.

In Boston, I recently had lunch at Bouchee, a French bistro on Newbury St, and then had dinner at Aquitaine, a French bistro in the South End. Aquitaine was like a slightly gritty sister to a New York bistro.

I seek these restaurants out. In Vegas, we had dinner at Mon Ami Gabi at the Paris Hotel, so obviously that was intended to be a French bistro. Don't get me wrong, it was excellent. But in a Vegas kind of way.

We're going to Napa Valley next week. I made reservations at Bouchon (as you may recall I couldn't get into the French Laundry). We'll see how the west coast does the French bistro.

The Delano

I have never been a fan of the state of Florida. Sure, it has some beautiful beachs, but to get anywhere you have to drive at least 30 minutes on an eight-lane super highway, past a billion strip malls and gaudy chain restaurants. To me, Florida is largely a cultural wasteland.

And then I went to Miami. South Beach is like the anti-Florida. Cool, hip, happening spots, one after the other. It's pedestrian-friendly, too, which I think is the mark of a good city. And, oh, the pedestrians! My God, is there some good looking eye-candy strolling the streets of South Beach.

The jewel in the South Beach crown has got to be the Delano.

A few years ago, my husband and I were in Miami for New Year's Eve, which happens to be my birthday. When I began looking into New Year's Eve parties, I quickly discovered that we really couldn't afford any. For example, the Delano's New Year's Eve party was $900 per person and it was cash bar! (Nobu was $1200 a person.)

We decided to have lunch at the Delano instead. It was fabulous. Everything was all white and marble. Our adorable gay waiter treated us like celebrities even thou there were actual celebrities in the restaurant at the same time. And, he brought me a complimentary birthday dessert. How sweet!!!

The best thing, the very best thing, the thing that makes me want to go back was the mojitos. Sure, the food was good. But this was lunch and I had a cobb salad. But the mojitos! They were magic deliciousness. I don't know what they do to make them so good. Maybe it's the combination of the awesome sun-drenched, sleek surroundings, the beautiful clientele and the perfect mint leaves. I don't know but if someone knows the exact ingredients, please share!

That $900 party we missed: I read later that George Clooney was there. If I had known that, I would have sold my husband to go.

Dining With Child

Yes, we are those people; the type who take their infant/toddler to fine dining restaurants. I always hear people talking about "kid friendly" restaurants and I wonder "what restaurant isn't?" In my opinion, it's not about whether the restaurant is kid-friendly. It's about picking a kid friendly time to go to the restaurant.

We've been taking our now-two year old son out to eat since we could carry him around in a car seat. For the most part, our experiences have been all good. This is largely due to the fact that we go out to eat at 6:00 pm. No respectable diner is having dinner at that ungodly hour, unless they, too, have kids or they're very old. Either wya, other patrons at that hour are more sympathetic. We get alot of smiles and laughs. No one minds if we suddenly burst into "the wheels on the bus go round and round" for no apparent reason. If they do have a problem with it, screw 'em. They should not be out eating such an uncivilized hour if they don't want to run into kids.


But it doesn't always go smoothly. On beautiful Friday night, when my son was just 8 months old, I suggested to L that we go somewhere outside. I suggested a mexican restaurant (clearly kid-friendly) in an outdoor shopping area. Well, L had another idea. He thought we should go to Dolce.

Now, I know I previously stated that most restaurants are kid friendly, but I would put Dolce in a category of restaurants that really aren't. It's a very sexy room, with dark wall-to-wall carpeting, white leather booths, and sleek lighting. It caters to the hip, party crowd. In fact, the servers are encouraged to do shots with the guests. But we knew the chef and it was 6:00 pm, so we thought it would be ok.

We rolled A's stroller up to our table and I kept him occupied by feeding him mashed avocados and bananas while we sipped cocktails and ordered excellent Italian food.

Then I gave him a bottle.

And maybe some cheerios. I keepd feeding him to keep him quiet.

Perhaps, this was a mistake.

Suddenly, I looked down and my child had turned into Linda Blair. A thick, glow-in-the -dark green vomit erupted from his little mouth, pouring all over him, down his stroller and onto the sleek dark carpeting.

I was horrified.

I carried my puke covered baby towards the restroom which was all black with black toilet paper but no baby changer. My server recognized my predicament and led me to a private lounge area and I was able to change my baby, who in addition to being covered in puke, had a very messy diaper, on a plush black couch. We then returned to our table and finished our meal. Except for the puke, we had a really nice time.

Our son has dined with us all over the city. He has a little fanclub of servers who know and have watched him grow. Recently, we were having brunch at Parish when a server approached me and asked my baby's name. I told her and she said "oh, I met you before. I use to work at another restaurant and I served you there." I said "oh, what restaurant?" She said "Dolce." I walked away in shame.

Sapphire Grill

I lived in Savannah in the year 2000. Sapphire Grill had opened before I moved there. She was the new kid on the block. Unlike her older sisters in Savannah, she was young, hip, sleek and beautiful. She pretty quickly earned a reputation for excellent food and great service and became the new "it" spot for Savannah foodies.

Nine years later, I no longer live in Savannah. Sapphire Grill is no longer the new kid on the block, but she has aged gracefully. I return to see her at least once a year. My husband always knows a trip is imminent when I suddenly start talking about Savannah, or he comes home and finds the webrowser opened to Sapphire's website (the menu to be exact!) He'll say "is getting to be that time again?" He doesn't wait for an answer. The question itself is the answer.

I don't know what it is. Why I love this restaurant so much. Maybe it's because I've been going there for nine years and I feel like I've grown up there. Maybe we've grown up together, Sapphire and I. We share secrets from my life.

I love her elegance, her quiet cool. I love being in Savannah for St. Patrick's day. The city goes crazy with drunken revelers. In the midst of all the craziness, Sapphire is an oasis. Immune, above it all. Here, you can get away from the fray. Catch your breath. Have a glass of wine. Before opening the door and returning to the craziness.

Everything on Sapphire's menu is good but it's the tuna I come back for; I dream about. It's odd because I never liked seafood much. Only recently and it has to be white and mild. I eat tuna; in sushi, but I'm not a big "tuna steak" fan. But somehow, at Sapphire, the tuna mignon, is like no other. It's like velvet. It melts in your mouth. I always pair it with the sweet soy & wasabi. It doesn't need anything more. I love the melted teardrop tomatoes, too. Another simple dish that's somehow impossible to replicate.

I Heart Sapphire. I hear her calling. I'll be there soon.

Could I Get Some Food With That?

One of our all-time favorite dining stories was our experience at the very dramatic, very beautiful Megu in Manhattan.

About 5 years ago, I had an opportunity to live in Manhattan for the summer. I was there on a work assignment and my living arrangements were paid for by my employer. It was a pretty sweet deal.

Because I was in New York, and feeling pretty flush, I made it my mission to dine at all the best restaurants in the city.

A new Japanese restaurant had opened in lower Manhattan shortly before my arrival. I heard it was something like a 10 million dollar build out and it was stupendous. When L. came to visit, I made reservations and we headed over to the gorgeous Megu.

It did not disappoint. Oh my god! We, experienced diners from the South, were like innocent lambs in New York. All wide-eyed and innocent. And Megu, oh Megu..she was like some gorgeous prostitute. We had never seen the likes of her before, but we knew not what we were getting ourselves into. She crushed us.

We arrived at the restaurant. The beautiful Japanese hostess escorted us down the stairs, into the dramatic dining area, with ice Buddha acting as the centerpiece. We sat, ordered drinks and we began delving into the menu. Sushi looked good. $20 for a roll seemed maybe a bit high but not too unreasonable. We continued to peruse the menu. The entrees...hmmm..oh look, kobe steak, that sounds good. How much? $240. Gulp. Let's stick to sushi.

The waiter returned and L. began to order a couple of very expensive appetizers and some sushi. To start with, we thought. After ordering about five rolls (so about $100 worth of sushi), he casually asked "how many pieces of sushi to a roll." The waiter responds "just one piece." In that moment, I watched the blood drain from L's face. He quickly stopped ordering food. L looked at me and said (and I know it killed him to say this) "I can't afford this place."

The waiter returned with our sushi. And then the most amazing thing happened. Someone came to our table with a giant branch. He grated the branch and it turned into wasabi! Who knew that wasabi was made from a tree?? It was so cool. And also the best wasabi I've ever had. The sushi was spectacular. It had been flown in from Tokyo the preceding day. I think after that, we ordered maybe one other item. Everything we had was fantastic. We just couldn't afford to order very much. And the bill was well over $300.

Meanwhile, at the table next to us sat 2 girls, who could not have more than 21 (and I only assume they were that old because they produced IDs and were drinking alcohol), who ordered everything they possibly could off the menu. Oysters, sushi, bottles of wine. Without a care in the world. We watched them longingly. If only we had their parents' credit card, too.

We left the restaurant and went to my favorite french bistro down the street (Les Halles) where L got a burger and fries.

We laugh about this experience to this day. Secretly, we both want to go back. At least, we'll be prepared for the sticker shock. We were not prepared for it last time. I really, really want someone to grate wasabi from a giant branch at my table one more time.

But It's The Best Restaurant In The World (or #5)

We're going to Napa Valley in July. So, of course, a trip to Napa would not be complete without dinner at the French Laundry. Surprisingly, when I first suggested this to my husband, he didn't seem too excited. But eventually, he saw the light. Sure, it would cost as much as our mortgage payment, but it's once in a lifetime experience! How could we pass up the opportunity to have dinner at a restaurant ranked as one of the best in the world??? Even if for some reason, it was disappointing...it would still be a great story. And isn't that what life is about..the stories we collect along the way.

I began going to the website weekly and drooling over the nine-course prix fixe menu. The website was very clear that the restaurant will not take reservations until two months to the date in advance. I've been waiting patiently for that day to arrive.

On Thursday, I called. I got through immediately! A good sign! I told the pleasant sounding "reservation specialist" that my husband and I were coming to Napa in July and wished to dine at her restaurant. She asked for the date. I told her Thursday, July 16 exactly two months from today. She said "no, today is only May 14. We only take reservations two months from the calendar date." I was crushed, but I said I would call back on Saturday, May 16th.

I called today. The reservation line opens at 10:00. I called at 10:15 and was on hold for nearly 10 minutes. I took that as a bad sign. Finally, the same reservation specialist came to the line. I said "I want to make a reservation for July 16." She responded immediately with "we're booked, but I can put you on wait list in case we have a cancellation."

Are you kidding me??????? I quietly gave her my contact information and then asked how could they possibly be booked at 10:23 when the line has only been open for 23 minutes and this is the first day that one could make a reservation for July 16. I didn't point out that she did not ask me if I was interested in lunch or dinner and did not ask me what time I was looking to come in and I did not point out that she did not even consult a computer. But these things have occurred to me.

She patiently explained that they received hundreds of phone calls a day and they only have 16 tables. Still, I find it hard to believe that the restaurant got completely booked in 23 minutes. Nonetheless, I will keep my fingers crossed that they get a cancellation and call me. If they do, I will get all dressed up and race to their restaurant like an over-eager girl to a boy who plans on treating her like crap and I will happily fork over several hundred dollars. And it better be great. How could it not be? After all, it's ranked on the best restaurants in the world.