I am not a food critic. I love to cook.  I love to dine out and I enjoy taking my blog readers along my culinary journeys with me.  However, I am often loathe to be critical – especially in “print” of a restaurant unless they deserve it.

Now, sure, I can critique the server that is so anxious to wait on me that he removes my soup bowl from the table before I have finished it (although he is probably doing my waistline a favor).   I am sure I can point out when the mashed potatoes are too heavy – even when they taste good – or my server forgot to bring sea salt along with my fois gras terrine.  I can (and sometimes do) elaborate when the food is good but the service is so god-awfully slow that what should be an hour lunch turns into a two hour lunch and a server is no where in sight when you want them.  However, unless they have pissed me off – which does occasionally happen – I can usually overlook these things as long as my overall experience is positive.

After going out with Lee Anne last night, several of you, dear readers, and some of my in-person friends have commented on how wonderful it is for restaurants to treat me like royalty when going out.

I want to take a moment and talk about these types of experiences.  First, yes, it feels great to walk in and find everyone falling over to please you.  I love meeting chefs and talking with them.  I am always honored when the chef presents me with his/her signature dishes.  I love the adventure!

However, if I were a true food critic, this would spell disaster!  In truth, it is so much easier and less stressful to evaluate a restaurant when no one knows who I am.  It is much easier to provide critique of my experiences when I am just another patron.

I can equate it to dealing with sales reps.  When a sales rep is an honest, nice person that truly wants to bring me the best service that he/she has customized to my business needs and they are responsive and diligent, then I am far more likely to compromise in my negotiations.  I am also far more likely to remain loyal to them and give them my repeat business.  However, if my sales rep is cheap, or I feel that he/she is trying to “sell” me without taking my business needs to heart, then I will most certainly decimate them in the negotiation process – or just not do business with them at all.

Well, last night I went back to Bouchon café in the Time Werner building.  I was scheduled to meet my friend (and first boss) Colleen, her husband and her friend (and former employee) Ferrol.  Now, you have all read me wax poetic about Bouchon before, from my first decadent experience to my lovely lunch with Phillip (aka Mr. Chorizo).  Partially because I am often in the area and partially because it is so amazingly good, I tend to frequent Bouchon.

Now, even though I eat there often, my anonymity remains in tact. If they do know I write a food blog, I am unsure how much they care.  So, if my service is slow, I do not have to worry about offending a friend by writing about it.  Now, last night, we were all enjoying each other’s company and lingering over our food, so we appreciated the extra time in between courses to talk and eat slowly.

We began our dinner with a carafe of St. Emilion Bordeaux that they offer as a house wine (that’s right, a Bordeaux house wine in a NYC café!).  The sinful influence that I am, I encouraged everyone to share the fois gras terrine appetizer. 

There is something magical and mesmerizing about Bouchon’s fois gras terrine.  It enchants the palate of even the strictest dieter and seduces their impulses to indulge.  Oh, and let us not forget their butter.  I often wondered if they whip the butter themselves.  It is so incredibly decadent and reminds me of butter from France of Germany.

Colleen and Alex wanted to mitigate the damage cased by consuming fois gras by ordering salads.  Colleen pleasantly discovered that her salad came with a melted round of brie —- a rustic fondue.  Ferrol and I went straight for the grilled cheese and tomato soup.  I adore that tomato soup.  Although having had it several times now, I notice a difference between the winter and summer batches.  The winter batch is heartier, has a touch more spice and I think uses different tomatoes (rather I think it is only one variety of tomato), whereas the summer soup has a lighter sweeter texture to it.

Our “light” meals preceded dessert.  Each of us tried something different. 

Colleen went for the “peanut butter cup”

Alex ordered the apple cobbler

Ferrol tried the lemon tart

I had the orange pot de crème, which had layers of richness and flavor intensity that delighted my senses (I found tiny bits of orange rind swirled around like saffron that enhanced the refreshingly citrus flavor).

Each of us left the restaurant full and thinking of how much walking we needed to walk off this self-indulgent meal. 

Tonight, I am off to the Metropolitan Opera to see Carmen, My cousin Michele and I will likely eat dinner in the cafeteria at Avery Fisher Hall (another favorite spot of mine).