“This place has some pretty impressive acoustics,” Ethan said. He reached out and grabbed Stephanie’s arm, and said, “Shall we?”
“Yes, I’m starved. I just realized on the way down that I had eaten nothing since breakfast.”
Blayne’s stomach took that time to rumble. “I guess that makes two of us.”
The group walked to the maître d’. “Kira Strickland, party for four.”
“Right this way, madam,” the man said as he grabbed four menus and a wine list and motioned for them to follow.
As the group moved, it was then that he realized the women had their own security detail. The security guards followed them into the restaurant. The maître d’ stopped and said, “Excuse me? We had this as a party of four, not six.”
Kira and Stephanie’s security reached into her pocket, pulled out a wallet and flashed her credentials. “FBI. We’re just ensuring the safety of your guests. We’ll be discreet.”
“Well, I can’t have you hovering. I’ll seat you at a nearby table. I’ll also send out our head of security,” the maître d’ said. The agent nodded, and the group continued through the restaurant to a small alcove that was secluded and off to the side.
After the group was seated, the maître d’ handed them their menus, recommended they look at the specials insert and left the group to get settled at the table. Seconds later, a busboy with a water pitcher showed up and asked them, “Do you prefer regular water, bottled water or sparkling water?”
“Regular is fine,” Blayne replied. The others nodded their heads. The busboy poured water for them before leaving the table.
“I’m almost amazed they don’t send a taste tester to ensure our water is safe,” Stephanie said. “I mean, this is a bit much.” She nodded toward their security detail.
“You get used to it,” Ethan said. “I’ve had my security shadows for a few years. Admittedly, this is even beyond what I’m used to. If they do their jobs, you don’t even realize they’re there most of the time.”
The server approached the table, reviewed the menu and asked if anyone had specific dietary restrictions. She informed them that the chef would like the chance to cook for them directly and off the menu.
“Of course,” Ethan said. “And thank the chef for the opportunity.”
“Well, that’s a surprise,” Stephanie said. “I’ve never had a chef at a five-star restaurant even know I was there. Admittedly, the only five-star restaurants I’ve entered were down in the Quarter.”
From the moment the first dish was served to Blayne, he knew this would be an unforgettable culinary journey. The amuse-bouche, a delicate wafer topped with vegetable caviar and smoked fish, was not something he had ever tasted in West Texas. The flavors danced on his tongue. This was followed by a smooth lobster velouté, which the server explained was “subtly kissed by saffron so the rich the creaminess will envelop your palate with an embrace from the sea.” Blayne wasn’t sure if his palate was embraced by the sea, but it was delicious. Course number three was the appetizer, “a ravioli filled with earthy black truffles and rich foie gras, bathed in a light, buttery broth, which will provide a decadent foray into the harmony of land and river.”
When the server left the table, Blayne looked at Kira. “Did you understand half of what she just said?”
Kira smiled and said, “Not at all. And honestly, I don’t even care. This is amazing.”
“I know,” Stephanie agreed. “Ethan?”
His mouth was filled with ravioli, so he just nodded enthusiastically.
Next, it was time for their fish course, which Blayne didn’t even realize was a thing. The server called it “dorade royale en croûte de sel de mer,” which translated to sea bream baked in a salt crust, served with a drizzle of citrus-infused olive oil.
“I admit, this is the first time I’ve ever tried sea bream,” Ethan said after finishing three-fourths of the plate. “I need to slow down. We still have three courses to go.”
“I’m going to need to purchase an entirely new wardrobe if I keep eating like this,” Stephanie agreed. “Not that I mind.”
Next, the server showed up with “carré d’agneau en croûte d’herbes, which was a tender, herb-encrusted rack of lamb, served with a robust red wine jus.”
“I have to ask,” Stephanie said. “What’s a wine jus?”
With a practiced smile, the server explained, “A wine jus, ma’am, is a light yet flavorful sauce made from the natural juices of the cooked meat, which is enhanced with wine and often other ingredients, then reduced to concentrate its flavors. Here, the chef’s wine of choice tonight was the house cabernet sauvignon.”
“Thank you,” Stephanie said. “I’m definitely getting a culinary education tonight.”
The server beamed and left the table for them to enjoy.
“So, what will happen to the shows here in DC?” Kira asked.
Ethan swallowed the bite of lamb in his mouth before saying, “I don’t know. I’m sure Rawlings and Hightower are figuring things out. We may cancel. We may postpone. We may go on as planned. I just don’t know. And honestly, it’s the least of my concerns. Playing a sold-out concert just doesn’t seem that important, given everything else that’s happening.”
