How do you describe a perfect meal?

I don’t mean the best meal of our lives. We’ve eaten a few of those, and our definition keeps expanding of what the next one should be to top the last. Those meals, however, can be a little exhausting. Hours long, white linen tablecloths, elbows off the table please — those dinner stand out in the mind later, but my back may not be that comfortable in the middle of it. Some of the best meals of our lives cost us more than we want to say.

I mean a perfect meal. The one where every bite, from start to finish, just tastes right. No real fuss. No big expectations. Instead, pleasant surprises and tastes that sang out of warmth and comfort, cooks in the kitchen working hard and enjoying it, white plates and forks scraped across them.

A good lunch.

That’s what we had at Bouchon Bistro when we were in Napa Valley. A perfect meal.

This meal with our good friends, Helen and Anita, was so lovely and comforting that we didn’t even order wine. We didn’t need it to enjoy our time. We admired the glasses, lined up here, side by side.

However, the company, the ambiance, and the food was enough on its own. That tells you something.

I can’t even eat this bread and I enjoyed the fact it sat on the table. It smelled heavenly: yeasty and warm. I listened to its crunch as Danny tore off a piece, and I approved. He smiled and didn’t even try to hide it. Sometimes, he feels bad if he eats gluten and I can’t have it. Most of the time, he tells me, “Oh, you’re not missing much.” Sometimes, Danny’s face will say that the bread or pie is great, but he feigns indifference. But with these baguettes, he couldn’t hide it. “Oh, these are good.” Helen and Anita agreed. I just smiled.

I knew the charcuterie  plate was coming soon.

The colors on this alone should tell you how enticing this charcuterie plate was. The vegetables were delicately pickled, just a touch of tang without being overpowering. They were, of course, the complement to the pork. Salami, saucisson sec, little squares of porky goodness. We each took a slice, nibbled daintily — only because we were forced to by the size of the servings — and oohed and ahhed.

This disappeared far too fast.

However, the charcuterie plate lasted longer than this boudin blanc did on my plate.

Boudin blanc is a hand-stuffed sausage made from pork, a white sausage, meaning without blood. (All that is saved for the boudin noir, or black sausage.) This one was refined, polished to a fine glow of a taste. The skin crackled underneath my teeth and the center was soft as mousse, with a little jiggle. It looked so good I didn’t even stop to focus this shot properly.

Oh well, you’ll have to imagine. It’s long gone now anyway.

The pork at Bouchon, and everything that came with it, tasted right. This is a Thomas Keller restaurant. Of course every detail is perfect. We’ve never eaten at the French Laundry, so we don’t know if a meal there would feel as complete. However, Bouchon is the bistro, the casual place, the place where you order frites and they arrive piping hot in a metal cone, the paper not stained with grease, and a small salt cellar next to them. Everyone in the dining room seemed happy — particularly when our daughter was giggling and eating sausage while waving at half the room — and everyone had a good meal.

We’d eat every bite again, particularly that boudin blanc.

Bouchon

6534 Washington Street

Yountville, CA 94599

Tagged as: Bouchon, Bouchon Bistro, boudin blanc, charcuterie plate, Napa, perfect meal, pork, Yountville