If someone told you that, starting today, you had to pick one restaurant and this would be the only place you could eat at for the rest of your life, what would you choose? Careful, though, this should not necessarily be your favorite restaurant, at least in my opinion. My most beloved place to eat out, for example, is The Citrus Club, a little pan-Asian spot in San Francisco. But the last time I was there my noodles were overcooked and mushy and every now and then the tofu tastes like they fry up a huge pile one day out of the week and it’s too bad for you if you’re there the day before that day. Plus the spices give me a stomachache that, because I only go once in a while, seems really worth it, but if I were forced to eat there everyday might get tiresome. I still love it, it’s still my favorite, but it needs to stay special. Do you get what I’m saying?
Of course, the reason I’m asking this question is that I have my own answer prepared. I recently went to a place called Café Torre that was ideal. Not exciting, not wondrous, but pristine. I’ve never had everything on my plate cooked so perfectly before, ever, not in any other restaurant, not in anyone’s home including my own, never. Ditto the dishes of everyone else at my table. Each of our plates carried the textbook definition of the food we had ordered. Not only did I enjoy it immensely, but I believe that, if I only get to eat from one source for the rest of my days, it’s going to be just this lack of idiosyncrasy that’s going to get me through it. Go check it out for yourself and see if you agree.