... bon appetite, part the deux ...

for my second night of fine dining, i made reservations at les papilles (translation: buds), a restaurant recommended by my friend emily (who was in paris last year) and my friend rick, rick steves. when i originally tried to reserve a table, i requested a 19:30 dine time. the owner of the restaurant, bertrand bluy, responded to my email inquiry almost immediately and indicated the earliest he could possibly seat me would be 22:00. yes, this is possible for me, i replied, and i will be there (you can sort of see bertrand in the photo below -- good looking man, he).

there is only one menu served at les papilles, an entrée, plat, fromage, and dessert. when you dine at les papilles, you just trust the chef and his expertise (and i like this approach because it removes all decision making (save for white or red; ok, i'll take both, thank you), which is a blessing when you're indecisive and don't know which entrée to choose. in addition, the food is served family style -- each course comes in its own serving dish, smaller dishes for tables of one, larger for tables of more.  on wednesday, the first course (entrée or starter) was a creamy leek soup, served over a pile of fresh herbs, croutons, something that sort of tasted like bacon but better, and a dollop of (what i am guessing to be) creme fraiche (amanda!). look at the beautiful presentation. now, imagine the taste -- because you just know that something that gorgeous has got to taste something like heaven in a bowl (a bowl that i seriously wanted to lick clean (but didn't). seriously).

next up was a veal(!) stew of sorts -- a creamy white sauce, filled with chunks of veal, fresh carrots and mushrooms, and the most delicious pearl onions i've ever tasted (these certainly did not come from the frozen food aisle in paris' equivalent to super one), served over basamati rice.  the veal, apparently, had been slow cooking to perfection for hours. i didn't know what to expect because, to my knowledge, i've never consumed veal (hence, an unfounded fear of the meat, the baby cow). even with no real expectations, i knew i was eating something special -- i don't think i've ever had beef so tender, so flavorful, so, um, can i have some more? i really wanted to eat the whole pot of stew, but i'd already devoured a small pot of soup, half a loaf of bread, more than half of the stew, and i knew cheese, more wine, and dessert were still to be had. to avoid any possible gastric discomfort, i made myself stop eating (and i still regret it and probably always will -- #YOLO!).

next up: fromage. and i knew, before it was even presented, that it was going to be goat cheese, served with a black olive tapenade (spelling?). but, when in paris ... because i wasn't really sure how to eat the cheese (it was served with a fork and knife, which, to be honest, confused my slightly inebriated self), i tried to wait until someone at a nearby table served himself up a big bite of the cheese so i could see how it was properly done. but the waitress came by and inquired about my hesitation before i had a chance to learn from another; i admitted i wasn't sure how to go about eating the cheese, and she explained: use the bread (duh!).  so, voila.

i posted two pictures so you could see the evidence that i actually did eat some of the goat cheese (not a lot, but enough to at least taste it) and, i have to say, it still got me in the jaw (you know the place where things like goat cheese get a girl in the jaw), but i would not say it was vile, either. and, like the stew, i wish i would have been a bit more liberal in my consumption (gasp!). 

and, finally, dessert. i think this might have been a panna cotta (i know: that's italian) of sorts, made with pineapple and a healthy dose of frothy caramel goodness. whatever it was, i ate the whole thing, effortlessly. effortlessly (and i would have asked for more if it wouldn't have been a faux paus).

again, dinner was an experience, rather than a daily event, that was meant to be savored (just like the food itself). after this trip, i am going to have to start eating dinner at my dining room table, rather than perched on the sofa, engrossed in some mindless netflix flick. because, really, food, like life itself, should be enjoyed, it should be savored -- even if it is only scrambled eggs (and i don't even like eggs).