One of my boyfriend's friends just ended her job as a pastry chef at Jardiniere in San Francisco, and she invited a group of friends to celebrate her move to new horizons, and to enjoy the benefits from her employee-discount for one last time.
Given that it is directly adjacent to the San Francisco Symphony Hall, Jardiniere has the best "location, location, location" to cater to wealthy symphony-goers. It lies in San Francisco's Hayes Valley, which is within walking distance to San Francisco's Civic Center, and thus, it acts as the buffer (comprised of upper-end restaurants) between City Hall and the innards of the city. Another restaurant in Hayes Valley (that I have posted about before), is Absinthe. Although we not on our way to or from the symphony or the nearby performing arts theaters or ballet house, we were about to enjoy a visually-captivating performance, not by actors, but by the chefs of Jardiniere.
The entire experience at Jardiniere was indescribable. The night was one of excess. We overdrank, we overate, and we stayed out until the wee hours of the morning.
Because we were guests of a Jardiniere employee, we were able to dine in the exclusive "wine room," a room that had to be reserved with a $500 room fee--if you cancel and they are unable to fill the room, they keep your $500. In the room, we sat amongst towering shelves stocked with wines that cost more than a month's salary--meaning that "one bottle of wine cost more than a month's salary," that is. None of us dared to approach the wines too closely, or even lift the bottles to inspect the labels, for fear of the secret hi-tech security system that would laser off our corneas and two layers of our skin. (With vintage wines imported from the finest wineries in Europe, you never know what measures the owner will take to protect it.)
Although we sat in the "wine room," we actually brought our own wine to enjoy with the meal. By bringing our own wine, we'd get to reduce some of the cost of the final bill. Plus, because of the generosity of our Jardiniere friend, we'd also get to circumvent the $15 corkage fee per bottle of wine. Everyone brought wine, and it was fun to drink wines ranging from Robert Mondavi to Charles Shaw ("$2-Buck Chuck") at the restaurant.
The experience was a barrage of flavors, overwhelming at times. The food was fabulous, but not everything tasted terrific. Too much wine dulled my taste buds and my senses, but overall, it was a gourmet extravaganza--an experience of a lifetime.
Because we ate so many different dishes, it would be a tremendous disservice to try to describe some dishes and neglect others. Furthermore, given the deluge of tastes, images, and textures that I experienced throughout the night, I don't feel that I could adequately do justice to any of them. However, being the "obedient" food blogger that I am, I did snap plenty of pictures, so that you can still get a visual taste of the dishes I sampled that night. (The quality of the pictures varies based on whether I used flash, and unfortunately, I didn't use the flash consistently.) Also, although we all shared the appetizers, we ate our main courses individually. However, not everyone tried every appetizer. Consequently, I can't remember what I didn't try, so here is my "best" attempt at labeling the pictures:
First Courses
Maine diver scallops with sautéed mushrooms, smoked bacon, Italian parsley and toasted almonds
Salad of little gems lettuce with chioggia beets and parmigiano-reggiano and green goddess vinaigrette
Duck confit with salad of marinated le puy lentils and heirloom oranges, red wine-honey reduction
Duck liver mousse with garlic croutons and housemade pickles
Gnocchi (I don't remember the full name, but I remember it was "gnocchi.")
Mackerel (I don't remember the full name, but I remember it was "mackerel.")
(I have no idea.)
Arugula, endive and frisée salad with roquefort, grained mustard vinaigrette
(Again, I am dumbfounded. What is this?)
Tombo tuna “crudo” with olive oil poached cardoons, mediterranean cucumbers, crispy fennel and tonnato sauce (I think.)
Second Courses
Hoffman ranch breast of chicken with rapini, capers, chanterelle mushrooms and meyer lemon potato mousseline, natural jus
Red wine braised beef shortribs with horseradish potato purée and herb salad
Petrale sole with Pacific shrimp, artichokes, fingerling potatoes, tomato confit, and lettuce emulsion (This is my main course. It was "okay," but not great. The fish was a little overcooked, and the flavors were bland. But doesn't it look dee-lightful?!?)
Dry aged New York steak with slow cooked broccoli, garlic and lemon, fingerling potatoes, niçoise olive jus
Wild mushroom and potato pavé with local chanterelle salad, caramelized onion and red wine-mushroom sauce
Third Courses
Apple pie à la mode
Carrot cake à la mode
Bonne bouche platter
Creme brulée
Housemade ice cream
Lemon meringue “Napoleon” with passion fruit sauce, macadamia nut tuile
Bittersweet chocolate cake with port-sour cherry ice cream
It was an hour-and-a-half past midnight when we left the restaurant, as the sole stragglers in the building. We had arrived around eight o'clock. Our "lengthy" meal at Jardiniere was diametrically opposite from our reception and treatment during Dine About Town. (When we dined at Rubicon, we were literally in an out in about an hour.) However, at Jardiniere, although we left late, we left with stomachs full with a memorable meal and with hearts full of happiness.
I am still in the arduous process of unpacking and acclimating to New Orleans (literally, the humidity is killing me), but I wanted to take a moment to share with you about a fabulous way to taste the the City of New Orleans. 
A visit to New Orleans is not complete if you do not sample the illustrious Cafe Du Monde beignets (pronounced "been-yay") in the French Quarter.
A beignet is a doughy square that has been deep-fried until it has inflated into a golden-brown pillow of spongy, soft cake-like bread. Unlike a glazed Krispy Kreme donut with its glistening sheen, a beignet is not light or airy, and does not go down "smooth" without the need to chew. Unlike a danish or croissant, a beignet is not buttery, flaky, or overly rich. Rather, it is like a piping hot funnel cake freshly fried at the state fair. When you bite into a beignet, expect to be greeted with a hearty crunch as you break open the textured surface. The interior will release a plume of steam and I am sure you will be taken aback by the deep nooks, pockets, and tiny tunnels made by the yeast in the beignet. Although the fried beignet bread is good enough to eat alone, Cafe Du Monde generously blankets the hot fritters with mini-mountains of powdered confectioner's sugar. If you order the beignets take out, they provide you with a one to two pound bag of powdered sugar for you to "do the honors" yourself.
The classic accompaniment to a beignet, is Cafe Du Monde's cafe au lait, which is made with whole milk, ground coffee beans, and chicory. I am unfamiliar with chicory, but I must say, I was amazed at how silken and sweet the coffee was. I needed to be repeatedly convinced by our server that there was no sugar in the coffee. The coffee was fragrant and full-bodied, and as my friend the Taste Tester says about her wine, the coffee went down with a "smooth finish." There was no trace of bitterness or burnt coffee grounds at all.
If you are in the area, stop by Cafe Du Monde at any time of the day. They are open 24 hours--merci mon dieu for that!
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#3. 
I know. You're right. But the beau took me out this last Friday with a group of friends, and because he paid, I am still "technically" within my budget for 2007!
sautéed prawns in pastis with sun-dried tomatoes
The second course included a choice between:
Steamed Petrale sole served with spinach and mashed potatoes in champagne beurre blanc
Finally, the dessert included either:
A warm chocolate gourmand with seasonal berries
So readers, will you help me to cook more at home and keep to a reasonable budget? I hope you will! My wallet needs time to recuperate from being a 
Serve with the couscous and artichokes.
A soup made of a roasted fennel and kabocha squash puree which was garnished with candied pumpkin seeds and a back-and-forth zigzag of drizzled creme fraiche.
The main course was either: a salt-baked Scottish salmon with crisped skin encrusted with crystaline salt granules, which was served over a beady bed of creamy, pebble-shaped chickpeas in a smooth garlic-anchovy vinaigrette, and topped with a luxurious nest of arugula and thinly-sliced black radishes; or
Circular slices of glazed and roasted pork tenderloin garnished with fuzzy sage leaves, and served wilted florets of broccoli rabe and a nutty risotto.
Although there were two choices for the dessert, we all chose the same spiced chocolate 
I started with the foie gras terrine, which was foie gras interlayered with a lightly-sweetened jelly and gelatin aspic. The flavors of the aspic were strong and the aspic itself was permeated with the milky essence of softened bone marrow. The foie gras was silky smooth and spread effortlessly
The beau ordered the Creekstone Farm black angus hanger steak and requested that it be cooked medium rare. The meat was dark red within, and was so rare that the texture was akin to tuna sashimi. The hanger steak was thick, juicy, and tender. Thus, it had all the qualities of a sublime steak, and the beau savored every bite. In addition with the steak, the beau's meal came with bite-sized wedges of seasoned pomme frites and a mix of salad greens.
I ordered the Hawaiian walu fish steak, which was also a two- to three-inch thick slice of meat that was soft and sinfully rare within. The ivory-toned walu filet was carefully balanced on a pile of buttery and creamy mashed Yukon gold potatoes and a salad of delicate tendrils of roasted tomatoes and red peppers that were drizzled in a balsamic and olive oil vinaigrette.
Finally, for dessert, the beau ordered our staple French dessert choice of crème brûlée. The 
I ordered Madame Angèle’s gateau Basque almond torte which was filled with a layer of custard cream, placed on a tiny pool of liquified custard, and colorfully decorated with ripe and rotund blueberries and delicate wedges of sweetened strawberries.
The individually-sized soup ramekin arrived, covered in a bubbling and blistered blanket of emmenthal cheese gratiné. As soon as my soup spoon penetrated the outer layer, a volcano of steam erupted out of the opening. Within, I found a spongy slice of baguette, that 
The star of the salad was the seared tuna, which was perfectly rare within. The outside was flaky, just like a good-quality, $2.50 can of albacore tuna. The inside was moist, cool, and tender, like the sashimi you've ever bitten into. The tuna was nestled in a dainty pile of salty and concentrated tapenade made with capers and niçoise olives.
Braised lamb shanks had the tender (not tough or stringy), fall-off-the-bone texture, even though there was no bone. Also, the nutty grains of couscous were distinct and not cooked into a mushy, sloppy porridge akin to bad polenta. Dried cherries and currants highlighted the sensational sweetness of the wine and were a bright contrast to the well-seasoned and savory lamb shanks.
Light tapping on the surface of the crème brûlée cracked open the hard candy ceiling. I felt almost like an Alaskan fisherman, breaking open the solid surface to delight in the treasure underneath.
