| rev:text
| - We headed to Bouchon. This is Thomas Keller's place (of the French Laundry fame in Napa Valley) in the Venetian Hotel, and one of the places I sought out and made a reservation for prior to coming. I have learned that it depends on when you ask someone about their dinner in order to get a valuable answer. Never ask right after - too intoxicated in a good way or too tired/grumpy/intoxicated in a bad way. Asking either Mr. V or myself that night how it was, overall, and we would've advised disappointed. Ask us the following day or even two days later, and my answer changes to good and his to meh.
Immediately, I liked the atmosphere and the layout of the restaurant. We had the option of sitting outside, which Mr. V vetoed because he didn't want to be distracted by the dozens of walking peoples, which I understood. Aside from the fine white linens, a majority of the restaurant was laid out in exposed cherry and walnut wood. The bar, the tables, the ceiling, the dividers were all exposed wood and gleaming. The ceilings were tall, but there wasn't much draft, which was nice, considering I was wearing very little.
I ordered a house glass of wine and a half dozen oysters, which turned out to be some of the best oysters I've had in a long time. They were so fresh and gritty, full of salt water and so very briny. It was lovely. Even Mr. V thought so. As I sit and think, I probably could've made a meal out of them, and happily, alongside my house wine.
The tomato salad with ricotta was delish. It had three thick slices of heirloom tomatoes - red, orange, and yellow- and a soft grating of ricotta drizzled on top of some red bibb lettuce, all the while lying in a pool of freshly minced pesto. It really was yummy. I like having to cut my tomatoes with a steak knife and wiping up leftover pesto with the freshly baked bread. The tomatoes has such a smell that it was like they were picked hours earlier (and quite possibly were), sitting and warming in a kitchen ready to serve hundreds of people.
My entrée was bouillabaisse - which had a pinkish broth. I'm still waiting for that moment when bouillabaisse comes in a clear or white broth, as it's supposed to originally, but this one was the closest I had ever gotten. Wish there was more broth, though. I love myself broth, so the more the merrier. The seafood bits were nicely cooked, and not one was overdone, which is a feat within itself for a kitchen - especially when the food will sit and cook at the table as well. I loved the head-on prawn.
Mr. V ordered roasted chicken - now, inside, I was scornful because it's bleeping chicken. I avoid chicken or turkey as much as humanly possible, mostly because the birds are just not flavorful. And Mr. Thomas Keller, maybe your chicken is notch, but alas, chicken is chicken is chicken. It was half a chicken, which meant that Mr. V had to eat it slowly to avoid mess on his shirt, but he still liked it and finished it anyway.
I would go back - but probably more so for the wine and oysters than anything.
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