So, after an indulgent evening of eating phenomenal food, drinking delicious wine and late-night blogging, I woke up this morning at 6:00am… 6:05… 6:10… 6:15… and finally by 6:30, I moved my tired hung-over body into the shower to get ready to host a press conference.

Many hours and a successful press conference later, I made my way to Bouchon (NYC) for a lunch meeting.  For those of you that have never visited Bouchon in New York, it is located in theTime Warrner Building.  Keller arranged the café as open-air seating  on the indoor terrace overlooking Columbus Circle, which makes for entertaining people watching and casual dining, albeit at elegant prices.

Both my colleagues ordered from the salad-menu while I (the foodie that I am) ordered the Chicken Soup with Soup Dumplings and the Terrine of Fois Gras de Canard (see photos in pics).

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First, the trendy, 20-something servers dressed in black turtlenecks brought us French-style knot-shaped mini-baguettes with ultra-creamy butter.  As it was now 3:45pm, none of us ate breakfast or lunch, and I was still hurting from less than three hours sleep, we descended upon these crusty creations, slathering their perfectly-salted, soft centers with smears of butter.  Moments later, they were gone.

When my soup arrived, it looked a lot like old-fashioned chicken soup – only far more elegant.  The dumplings looked like mini marshmallows and there were long strands of chicken throughout the soup.

They used an oblique cut to shape the carrots.  This struck me particularly because about a year ago, in a knife skills class at the CIA, my instructor taught us to make oblique cuts using carrots.  Now, for whatever reason, my brain could not grasp this basic concept.  It took me about two bags of carrots to finally understand how the pattern worked.  As I have been known to strive for perfection, this lack of understanding drove me crazy.   For about two weeks, I practiced this cut.  I made glazed carrots, soup, stew, and everything included an oblique cut.

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Then, reminiscent of rustic, provincial French cuisine, my Fois Gras arrived.  Presented in a mason jar, they served the terrine with strips of French bread and sea salt.  Talk about silky elegance!  If people measured Fois Gras in thread count, this one would classify a 600.  I tasted just a hint of sweetness in the Fois Gras—like perhaps a port or late harvest wine— that counterbalanced the yeastiness of the bread.  Add salt and perfection!

Call it stress, focus on our meeting, or just lingering fullness from the previous evening, I could not finish either course.  So, when the waiter arrived, I asked him to please wrap it all up; adding, "Can you please include the salt."

   To which he replied…"Would you like that sprinkled on top of the Fois Gras?"  

"No, thank you.  Please keep it separate."

Well!  My salad-eating colleagues could not contain themselves!  "Did you just ask him to wrap the salt separately?" said Emily.  "Are you really taking home the salt too? " She exclaimed half in laughter and half in surprise.  "Deb, you are the finickiest foodie I have ever met!"

… "yes, I suppose so," said I.

After Lunch, I made a pit-stop at the bakery.

So, here I am, at 8:30pm, enjoying my chicken soup and my Fois Gras terrine with bread and salt, languishing in my love of fine food.