25. L’Auberge Chez Francois
When I was in my tween years, L’Auberge was like this mythical place far away that my really cool friends would get to go on their birthdays. I didn’t know much about it, but I did know that if I went there I would probably eat grilled cheese with caviar and ice cream made of gold. Or something equally fabulous and unbelievable. Then I got a little older and I sort of forgot about it. My friends started having boy/girl parties and let’s be honest—when you’re trying to impress your 15-year-old math class desk mate, you don’t want to have to do it at a fancy French restaurant. So in all my years in Washington, and after all the stories, I had never been there.
My original plan was to head over there on my final Sunday of my blog year to have a lovely French brunch with my parents. It would have been a regal end, I thought. Then, the Snowpacalypse. But because of those fabulous folks at the Capital Weather Gang, I was prepared. So on Tuesday I made alternative plans—I would beg my office to let me slip out in the middle of the day for a quick (ha) trip to Great Falls for lunch. And so I did.
It’s a long way out there through the rolling hills of suburbia, but then you come upon this little chateau as if out of the French countryside. As I skidded in to the parking lot (I didn’t see the restaurant until it was almost too late) I noticed that there weren’t too many other cars in the parking lot. Like NO other cars in the parking lot. Then my whole blog flashed before my eyes: the restaurant was obviously randomly closed, it was going to snow twelve million inches that night and then I wouldn’t ever be able to get here again. Luckily, I tried the front door just in case and it was open. Phew. And I wasn’t even the only one in the restaurant!
I had scouted out the menu ahead of time, so I knew what I wanted. Alsatian food is pretty heavy so I thought that a nice little quiche would be the way to get around that at lunchtime. It had ham, bacon and gruyere—a classic (and delish) combo. It was served with a little side salad, some green beans and about four different kinds of bread. Quiche doesn’t usually knock my socks off (I’m much more likely to go for the bagels and lox at a brunch buffet) but this version was pretty great. I expected salty and creamy, but it was also smokey and sweet. So many different flavors that all melded nicely. It might have even had umami, the elusive fifth taste, if I actually knew what that tasted like. And it was a huge portion. I didn’t come close to finishing it, not to mention the green beans and bread I left scattered all over the table.
I’m usually a proud lone diner, and I don’t mind sitting and munching by myself with just my magazine to keep me company. But one of my gripes is that I feel like restaurants try and shove their single diners out quickly with the courses coming fast and furious and the check on the table as I’m taking my first bites. The waiter at L’Auberge was quite the opposite—and while it was nice not to feel rushed, I finished my magazine a little quicker than I expected and ended up sitting for a good twenty minutes staring in to space as I tried to flag him down to bring the check. But if the only complaint I’ve got with a place is that their waitstaff is too considerate to bother me, I think it’s a-ok.
