Finally, I learned that if you have a Black AmEx, your concierge service is the best possible chance of securing you a table.He succeeds about 50 percent of the time. One gentleman will charge $100 to get you a table on the date you stipulate, but nothing if he fails. I also learned there are people you can pay to help you.This isn’t urban legend: My friend Mike scored one of these. I learned it is possible to luck into the one or two tables they leave for exactly two months out.But you have to call at noon Pacific Time and hope you get through before all the tables are gone. I learned you may only make reservations two calendar months in advance (we were about 70 days out).I read the FL Website carefully enough to score 8,000 percent on a reading comprehension test.Here’s a bulleted list, heavily edited, of my personal saga of securing a reservation: Rather, he talked me into trying to get into the French Laundry, which is the arduous first step for dining there, unless you’re someone like Ashton Kutcher-more on that later. When my friend and I decided to go to Napa Valley for a long weekend, Chuck talked me into the French Laundry. The idea I could procure those ingredients-black truffle!-and do those things to them-strain milk through chinois, cut eggshells, whip up some beurre monté -seemed like a well-written dream.Īnd I learned that “much-lauded” isn’t adequate to describe Keller’s career as a chef his list of accolades is impressive, and it would be more impressive to me if I knew what some of them meant, but I do understand the rarity of the prestigious Michelin stars (he’s the only American chef to earn multiple three-star ratings). I read this book like a novel, a fantasy novel. I was peripherally aware of the restaurant and Keller when my brother Chuck, my foodie sensei, gave me the French Laundry cookbook. In July, I discovered that my answer to this question is the famous Napa Valley gem and Thomas Keller showcase, The French Laundry in Yountville, California. For which restaurant would you jump through flaming hoops to get a reservation and be willing to scare the hell out of your credit-card limit with the resulting bill? For whose food would you deny yourself other pleasures-for a long time-so you could partake at this particular table?
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