.vaille que vaille. : La Table de Joël Robuchon

I lost my virginity to a Frenchman. My fois gras and quail virginity, that is. Single-handedly, Monsieur Robuchon has stolen my heart and run away to "gourmande" heaven with it. (Here, the word for "foodie" sounds less fanatic and more sophisticated.) In the 6 years that I have not eaten meat (heh heh, well, except for that one sliver at Jar..), the dish that I ordered was without a doubt, worth every penny and every burger that I had previously refused. No, friends. I could not bring myself to order steak or a pork dish. Most likely because I saw an entire pig, with it's head still intact, on a rotisserie in the window of the greek district the other night and was mortified. I think in fact, I vomited a little. This is all, however, besides the point. THE POINT is that from 8 pm - 12 am tonight, Monday, the 9th of November 2009, I have had the best meal of my life, in Paris, no less. The occasion? (Because for this kind of food & service, you kind of need an occasion, usually.) My darling baby girl Heather's 22nd birthday! She deserved every minute of it. We were smiling and giggling from ear to ear the moment we sat down on our lush black velvet seats in the romantically lit room, and placed our purses on the velvet footstool next to us.

Situated on 16 Avenue Bugeaud, in the 16th arrondissement, La Table de Robuchon is highly acclaimed by the French and internationals alike, with 5 stars on Lafourchette.com and 2 Michelin stars garnered shortly after it's opening.

They offer lunch and dinner seatings, and with a capacity of 55 people, these seats are reserved well in advance. What I noticed was that they did not reset any tables that had been dined at, indicating that they allow the entire night, if needed, for their guests to fully enjoy their meals. The service was impeccable. We were greeted at the reception and our coats were taken immediately into the coatroom.

Enough talk. Our first "course," was free, and was an amuse-bouche of fois gras de canard with melted Parmesan. Creamy and delicious. We ordered an apéritif of red Bordeaux wine, which was fine and smooth and absolutely wonderful.

My dish: Quail with fois gras, carmelized with apple purée & rosemary alongside creamy mushroom and truffle mashed potatoes. The waiter also brought us "world famous mashed potatoes" (at the top of the plate). The quail was tender and perfectly seasoned. With the apple purée and fennel, it was indescribable. The "famous" mashed potatoes were too buttery for me, it literally tasted like smooth butter...I preferred the mushroom mashed potatoes with a little more texture and a little more flavor. The maitre D' actually came by and watched me perplexedly try to use my utensils with the quail, and he told me to use my fingers. WHAT! Use my fingers in a classy establishment such as this? I blushed and told him he was joking. He wasn't. He brought over a miniature silver saucer of hot water and slices of lemon and told me to use my fingers. It was more practical, or "better" in his words. Feeling a bit ridiculous, I gave in and used my fingers.

Heather's order was wonderful as well. The Saint-pierre with basil, tomato, and green lemon. It was one of those dishes that needed all the components on the plate to be a winner. You couldn't just eat any one thing. The explosion of flavor, for me, came from the tomatoes that were hidden underneath the fish. Oh god.

For dessert...and you wouldn't be in France if you didn't get dessert...I ordered the Paris Brest. A plate of mini cream puffs filled with hazelnut cream and in the center, a mango jelly sprinkled with gold flakes. I don't know how else to describe this but with disturbing noises.

Le Chocolat Tendance, chocolate cream, chocolate ice cream, and chocolate flakes with Oreo morsels. Yeah.

Surprise! I think the Maitre D' loved us. Most likely because A. we were girls, but B. we were the only clients under the age of oh, maybe 98, in the entire room. So he would often come by and joke with us by straightening our utensils if they were ever a little crooked, or laugh at us when I was taking pictures with my monster of a camera. He was delighted at the fact that our French was so horrible, but he would try to converse with us anyway. When he heard that Heather was studying psychology, he beckoned one of the waiters over to our table and told her he needed her help. When our main waitress forgot our water, he beckoned her over and slapped her wrist. Finally, when we were trying to make our decision over dessert, I told him it had to be special, because today was her birthday. And without another word, he brought out our desserts, BUT a minute later he brought out 2 glasses of champagne and the center platter, which was a wonderful plate of pear and apple sorbet with caramel, tucked inside a glass ball of thin sugar. I'm sure Heather had never smiled so broadly in her life.