By: Dagger

All my life, I have lived in poverty. I’m still a foodie, but my regular culinary experiences often include items such as the McGangbang, King Cobra, and/or Pizza Lunchables. So when an opportunity to visit Thomas Keller’s restaurant The French Laundry arose, you know I was absolutely onboard.

The French Laundry is a Michelin 3-Star restaurant nestled in Yountville, California, a small area of the Napa Valley, wine country. For those unfamiliar with restaurants and Michelin stars, there are only 15 Michelin three-star restaurants in the United States. It’s extremely prestigious, and these restaurants are the absolute best of the best.

The French Laundry in particular was named “Best Restaurant in the World” in both 2003 and 2004 by Restaurant Magazine, and was called “the best restaurant in the world, period” by Anthony Bourdain in 2005. Despite it’s highly impressive credentials, I must admit, until invited to dine there, I’d never heard of it. I was a little out of my element here.

Driving into Yountville to get to the restaurant, the weather was beautiful. Spring in wine country. Our party arrived there about 30 minutes early, and toured the large garden across the street, from which The French Laundry sources many of their ingredients. I could see many tourist-types (not dressed to dine there, essentially) snapping photos in front of the restaurant.

Upon entering, our party was given a brief tour of the kitchen and wine cellar, and then led to what’s known as the board room, a large area with a dining table settled into what otherwise looked to be a conference room. One wall of the board room opened into scenic view of a patio garden. The atmosphere was not at all the stuffy, sterilized environment I imagined. The waitstaff immediately picked up on our level of casualness, and was quick-witted and disarming.

We were treated to a surprise pre-course. A deconstruction of a bagel with salmon and cream cheese. ‘Salmon tartare mousse cornet with sweet red onion creme’. Excellent. The crunch of the cornet was fantastic, and the creamy ‘salmon tartare mousse’ was divine. The next few courses included caviar and oysters in tapioca, a hen egg custard with a truffle ragout, and a single stalk of asparagus ft. some leaves, radishes, and a black trumpet mushroom vinegarette. Aside from the oysters, which I don’t really do, it was all A class food. The asparagus, despite the comedy of being a lone stalk, was delicious.

The protein dishes were my favorites, barring the Nova Scotia lobster. Mediterranean turbot, (which is apparently a white fish), with snow peas, pea blossoms and a cauliflower sauce; a Peking duck course served with a red rice pancakes; and a small cut of exceedingly tender beef served with cherries and artichoke. Each of these courses was a small taste of excellence. Dinner was rounded out with a puff pastry, a small cheese bite, and a large assortment of desserts.

Overall, the food was about what I expected, honestly. The plating was artful, the smells and visual appeals of the courses were tantalizing. It was finely crafted, inspired, and undoubtedly delectable. At the end of the day, comparable to other high-tier restaurants, but definitely A+. The atmosphere and service were what really sold the experience for me. That attention to detail was the deciding factor in what makes The French Laundry what it is.

My post-meal digestion (the mental, not the physical) was a bit of a ride. I left with a lot of mixed feelings. On the one hand, I enjoyed my meal exceptionally. On the other, I felt layers of guilt, imposter syndrome, and dissassociation. Not to the extent that I expected going in, but guilt has a funny way of spiraling out.

I am, politically, a radical leftist. I normally chant for guillotines and eating the rich. How do I reconcile joining them at their tables? Is the artistic elevation of this dining experience enough to justify its exclusionary price point? Without a doubt, this restaurant is a work of art. From the architecture, to the performance of the waitstaff, to the food itself, every detail was crafted into a spectacle that is manicured and calibrated to absolutely enchant its patrons.

Perhaps art is the only way I can justify this. But is that enough? What is art without accessibility? Is the price of all this worth staggering income inequality, or food insecurity, or republicans? The old addage ‘there are children starving in Africa’ comes to mind. What on earth am I doing here now? I grew up eating food from churches and food pantries at home, and government subsidized free lunches at school. Can I really eat here and not feel the weight of my hipocrisy? If anything, it opened some dialogue with myself about my place in the world.

Would I go again? Even if I could justify the price point, probably not. Was it worth my time? Absolutely yes. Would I recommend it to our readers? If you have the means and are looking for a notch on your belt that reads ‘visited the best restaurant in the world’, do it. Carpe fucking diem. For me, the experience left me more conscious of food, economics, art, and the threads that tie them together. That might be worth the trip all on its own.