Dinner last night at AOC Bedford to celebrate the fact that my wife didn't leave me for a llama or a tango instructor while she was down in Chile.
The foie gras there is simply to die for, you eat it on toast points with a little of that sweet desert wine, what's it called? Ah, Muscat. And a bottle of Le Petit Cheval St Emilion Grand Cru 1986 to wash down the paella.
I'm not one of those foodie chowhounds, really, and last night's dinner was a new life achievement for me in terms of the fatness of the check. But you know what? It was freaking worth it!