Beautiful food

It was a big birthday last week. I won't tell you how big, but big enough to make me want to run and hide, despite having saturated myself with inspirational stories from Vogue's "The Age Issue" about sixty year-old women taking thirty year-old lovers.

E, who is 10 years older, was very sweet. He showered me in flowers: a rose for every year, lilies, hydrangeas, orchids, other things I couldn't identify. We accidentally intercepted the flower delivery in our lobby and I've never seen such a tiny woman carry so many flowers at once. There almost wasn't room for us in the elevator.

Then, despite my protestations that I really just wanted a bowl of pho, E transported me through an HK downpour to one of the toniest restaurants in town: Michelin 2-Star L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon. (NYTimes'2006 review)

We ate in the Jardin, rather than L'Atelier, one of the most sumptuous dining environments I have ever experienced. Glossy black lacquer everywhere, a wall of purple orchids, exquisite crystal and silver. And to top it off, a small *live* ensemble singing numbers from my seventies and eighties childhood (plus they did Sinatra's "My Way" at the end of our meal, to which I sang along quietly in my seat).

The food was seamlessly connected with the environment, its presentation and polish coordinated aesthetically with the walls, carpet, glass and servers' uniforms. The most remarkable example from our eight course tasting menu was LA SPHÈRE, a golden orb of sugar filled with panna cotta that looked more like a door nob in a luxury hotel than something to put in your mouth.

But, in fact, it cracked like a soft-boiled egg (echoing the actual egg with caviar we ate earlier in the meal). For me, the result was a pleasant mouthful of dreamy mousse with melting sugar shavings on my tongue. For E, who dove in with less contemplation, it was an unpleasantly sharp shard in his mouth. Ouch!