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STORY TIME! Foie gras is legal in Cali again so AnonyMister and I got reservations asap to The Winery, which we had never been to, to snag some.
Did it 4 days in advance, called ahead to make sure they had enough foie gras, got a sitter, even shaved my legs. Special occasion, bit**es.
Got there, and it was what you would expect: location right on the water, marble walls, Middle Eastern royalty, hostesses who model for J Crew catalogs on their off time. Got a seat on the patio, had a great view of what I assume is Jay-Z’s yacht.
The people watching situation was ripe. To our right we had a man in a Captain’s hat (ahoy hoy!) and to our left, there were a few drunk proctologists. No, I am not making this up. Yes, awesome drunk eavesdropping followed.
A busboy proceeded to ask us what COLOR (yes, COLOR) napkin we wanted. Server A floated over to go through the specials, and hand us the thick binder of wines available.
Then it happened.
Server B came over, grim look on his face, to solemnly tell us they were out of foie gras. He left and I pushed a straight razor into my thigh to try to cut the pain away. AnonyMister grew 6 times his size, turned green, ripped his shirt into rags, and proceeded to bang his giant fists into our $6k oak table. Once we came to, we reassessed, and drank our feelings like good OC citizens.
Server A came back, hat in hand, mortified. He seemed as devastated as we were about the FG fiasco. We softened a bit, smiled through our tears and ordered what we thought were “consolation” items. Me, the Buffalo Carpaccio with Truffle Mash. AnonyMister, a steak and brussels sprouts with pig belly.
Then the bread came and so did the manager. He apologized so sincerely that AMister and I looked at each other simultaneously wondering if fine dining in Newport now included mind-reading. Manager explained the sit, and mentioned that he had programmed a free FG in the system for our next visit. HELL YES.
Food came. Brain exploded. AMister ate a steak that I can only assume was made out of unicorn. A rainbow of bloody perfection. Also, the truffle mash. THE TRUFFLE MASH, PEOPLE!!!! It was so damn delish. I would eat this shi*t all day, every day, even if it gave me cancer.
We ordered the creme brulee for dessert (which I would assume has to CURE cancer, cuz holy mother of God, is that sh*t holy), and with it came the hostess who had made our reservation. She too, was genuinely upset about FG-gate. After personally apologizing, AMister and I were taken aback. The service here was personal and MADE the experience amazing.
Server A then came back and told us dessert was “on the house”. Hot damn.
All in all: eat here whenever you can, because it’s outrageous. Or see if you can just take a barrel of the truffle mash home, and ration that sh*t. Bring your lady here on your anniversary and get yourself some wine. This is the place TO BE, and to my surprise: Newport fine dining does not equal elitist jackassery; at the Winery you get an epic experience with a side of NOM.
P.S-I could include a picture of our food, but instead I will include a picture of Cap’y, because according to my brother’s text “Pics of dint happen”. You’re welcome.