OFF TOPIC: Your humble scribe does the Laundry

The walkway of the tiny parking lot leads to a wooden arch flanked by two knee-high rows of brick. A courtyard opens up as you walk through the arch with a simple garden around most of its perimeter gently directing you to the famous blue door that separates visitors from guests at The French Laundry.

I take a deep breath as I prepare to cross the threshold at this hallowed ground. I'm as nervous as I was on my wedding day and still not believing I'm actually where I am. It's a surreal feeling I imagine goes through the souls of those approaching St. Peter at the pearly gates. Some people have great confidence, but I sometimes don't. I truly wonder if I am worthy of this experience.

The staff does its best to make us feel at ease. The maitre d is warm and welcoming, and our table captain, Ruben, wants us to know that he is the nervous one since we are his guests; he wants us to have a great time. The sommelier offers us a champagne to celebrate our arrival at one of the world's best restaurants. We accept. I'm more interested in the alcohol calming my nerves than I am in a celebratory toast, but even with tense muscles and an increased heartbeat I am able to enjoy the bubbly. We're off and running, but slow and steady wins this race; we have nine courses and four hours to go.

The menu unfolds like a culinary rube goldberg machine with exotic ingredients coming together to produce brilliant plates as each course builds on the last to produce a contented diner.

The menu was a perfect mix of stereotypical high-end cuisine (e.g. caviar, foie gras,) that I otherwise rarely get to try as well as familiar favorites (e.g. tuna, lobster, and lamb ribeye) done to absolute perfection. It was fun just to have caviar let alone how delicious it was (with "Sabayon" of pearl tapioca and poached Island Creek Oysters). On the other hand, I've had tuna and lobster before but never like this. The tuna was sauteed, and the texture of it was like nothing I've ever experienced—not quite crunchy on the outside but a tough enough exterior that required me to bite through it in order for the meat of the fish to reach my tongue where it just sat diffusing its gentle fresh flavor.

One of the most fun parts about the experience was watching the carefully choreographed ballet of the service. Nonverbal cues made up the language of the highly trained and crisp waitstaff as they anticipated (and met) our every need.

Not that The French Laundry owed us anything or needed to do anything beyond serve us a world class meal to make our night, but Ruben and General Manager Nicolas Fanucci managed to deliver a pair of experiences that pushed the evening into transcendence.

Dessert began with course eight, (honeydew melon sorbet served with compressed watermelon and basil "nuage" [basil foam]). When one of the servers came to inquire about coffee with our dessert, I asked if it would be possible to try Chef Keller's world famous coffee and doughnuts during one of the dessert courses. The server went to Ruben who informed us that typically guests should order c&d before the meal, but that he would see what he could do. My hopes weren't high to begin with after that exchange, and they continued to drop as both dessert courses passed with no mention of our request.

A server cleared our table after we finished our ninth course, but the meal did not appear to be over when another place setting was put before us. Hopes rose like the tide as we imagined this meant that coffee and doughnuts were on their way, and we were correct. Seeing that iconic dessert placed before us was the perfect close to the meal. As high end as some of the cuisine was, it was comforting to know that Keller and his staff feel just as much at home serving their guests doughnuts at the end of the day.

Thanks to Nicolas, our departure from the restaurant included a detour to the kitchen where new chef de cuisine Tim Hollingsworth met with us briefly and signed our menus.

Of course the worst part about the meal was when it concluded, but that's actually the great thing about an experience such as dining at The French Laundry: the experience is never really over. My friends and I will be talking about this until the day we die, and as I replay the evening in my head over and over and over again, I keep finding new things to muse over. Just as energy never dies, great experiences become memories and stories.

Thank you for letting me share mine with you.