In Which I Eat Great Food, Keel Over

We went to Fleur de Lys last night - a classy French restaurant in downtown San Francisco, headed by Hubert Keller, who is, these days, what one calls a "celebrity chef." Armed with a gift certificate from the holidays, Jeremy and I arrived with our Eating Game Faces on.

We had a four-course prix-fixe and it included such decadent things as foie gras truffled asparagus salad, scallops and more truffle, shrimp with pork belly, Wagyu beef cheeks, chocolate soufflé dusted with powdered sugar and and more.

It was elegant, delicious, and I felt slightly uncomfortable being there. It's the type of place where they clear away your silverware after every course and have that fancy little scraper that whisks the "unseemly" crumbs off of your tablecloth.

To top it all off, as we neatly folded our napkins to leave, I put my palms down to scoot over in the booth to get out. Except it wasn't a booth, but a chair, so my hand met only air. I plummeted down and knocked the classy lady next to me as my chair tipped over.

I apologized and skulked away. Clearly I am not meant for these fancy places ... but oh! The food! It's so good! Am willing to suffer a bruised ego for a full stomach? Yes, yes, I think so.