Save Me the Plums: My Gourmet Memoir

by Ruth Reichl

The sorbet buzzes against my tongue, shocking me into the moment. One more bite, and I am experiencing the food with psychedelic intensity. A tiny onion tart, no bigger than a fingernail, is crowned with a single bright nasturtium; I stare at the blossom, thinking this the most beautiful food I have ever encountered. Airy puffs of pastry enfold bits of fish and slices of caramelized apples that crunch and crackle merrily inside my head. Adorable shrimp dumplings nestle into leaves of lettuce, the sweet pink meat peeking shyly from each jade wrapper. The flavor is delicate, tender, and so seductive I want to keep it in my mouth forever. But then I lift my glass and take a sip of cool white burgundy; the Corton-Charlemagne is so pure I imagine water trickling down a mountainside. I take another sip, and then another, of this gorgeous, heady wine. Gagnaire’s tribute to surf and turf arrives: delicate black caviar, pressed into a thick, fruity saline jam paired with foie gras that’s been transformed into a trembling, almost liquid substance. I close my eyes and feel the flavors somersaulting through my mouth, a circus of sensations.