Now the Grand Floridian truly is grand. Walking the grounds, you can't help but be taken in by the mix of Victorian splendor and Disney charm. It always makes me feel like I've jumped through the sidewalk chalk and into a land where Mary Poppins just has to be around somewhere.



The main lodge is a gleaming white stack of red-capped spires. It seems fitting that within lies the only restaurant in all the World® where a jacket is required to dine.



To pass through the grand lobby is to go past the grand pianist. His ivory tinkling follows you up one floor in the polished brass elevator. On the way to Citrico's, there are two understated doors that sit quietly to your left.



Each bears an initial in large, cursive script: V and A. Going through those doors is like stepping through a portal directly into the private dining room of a Victorian-era mansion. Upon doing so, my wife and I paused to let the doors close, sealing the illusion around us before going any further. We were met by a ready waitstaff, flawlessly courteous and in period dress, that escorted us to our table in the study. Being seated before a grand fireplace above whose ornately carved mantel was hung the grand portrait of our hosts in effigy, there could be no mistake. We had arrived at Victoria & Albert's.



Our menus came folded within black envelopes under a golden monogram seal. Personalized at the top with our names and the date, they were ours to keep. The menu itself is prix fixe, our choice within seven courses. And while the wine list is weighty with benchmark bottlings from all over the world, I chose the optional Wine Pairings to get the guided tour. It was an almost three-hour tour, as it would turn out, after which I was appropriately lost. There is a reason Victoria & Albert's has been the recipient of AAA's coveted 5-diamond award seven years running. It is a place where every dish is sculpture, flavors take on an almost Tim Burton-like vividity, and the meal in its entirety becomes a sort of living presentation of the culinary arts. It was by an easy margin the most profound experience I've ever had at the table. There's just no other way to do this post than long.

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Our adventure began with a toast to the occasion in pink champagne or more precisely, Roederer Estate Anderson Valley Brut Rosé NV. This was followed by an amuse bouche of butternut squash soup, served like espresso in a tiny cup and topped with a froth of crème fraîche. Just enough to awaken the mouth and the appetite. Between courses and warm from the oven, balls of sourdough were delivered with a pale golden butter flown in from an artisanal co-op in Vermont. Made plain, it was served sprinkled with a coarse sea salt. Cream and crunch together.

For first course, my wife opted for the Chorizo Crusted Atlantic Tuna with Arbequina Olives and Banyuls Vinaigrette. In fine cuisine there can be a tendency to tease at the size of the portions, but when the delicacies are this rich and complex you really wouldn't have it any other way.



My appetizer was the Walnut Oil Seared Duck with Hearts of Palm, Huckleberry Vinaigrette and Fourme D'Ambert Fondue. For these or any of the items to come, there was no garnish in the common sense of a sprig of parsley just for color. Literally every drop on the plate had a flavor purpose. Tart, fruity dots of vinaigrette offset the creamy ring of cheese fondue. Texturally, crisp vegetables counterpointed the buttery softness of the duck.



The pairing was eclectic-meets-eclectic with a glass of ’05 Conundrum, which is the white wine creation of Napa cabernet legend, Caymus Vineyards. Aptly named, Conundrum is an entirely unique blend whose exact composition is never identified, but the players are known to include Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, Muscat and Viognier. It’s apricot, honeydew, and creamy banana that all cleans up nicely with a bit of citrus. Fantastic!

Taking our time but moving on, my wife received her next selection of Minnesota Elk Tenderloin with Stewed Petite French Lentils and Corn. It was a medallion of elk filet seared rare and oh so tender.



Ever the varietist with edibles, I chose the Ballotine of Poulet Rouge with Chicken Consommé, Scottish Chanterelles and Black Truffles. The truffles enhanced the mushrooms into a rich, earthy broth. Each sip transported me into the forest in search of the damp, hidden treasures that cling to roots below the surface. This was 5-diamond chicken soup, people. Its partner was a 2005 J. Moreau & Fils Chablis, which is to say French Chardonnay in a crisp, signature style.



For the seafood course, Mrs. Vino took Alaskan Halibut with Celery Root Purée and Carnival Cauliflower. The delicate flavors were quite well mannered, taking their turns on the palate in a quiet symphony of taste.



My Seared Wild Turbot with Toasted Capers and Meyer Lemon was bolder, but came apart in tender flakes cordially enough. A Twisted Oak Roussanne/Marsanne Sierra Foothills 2005 was all it needed to dance. Roussanne and Marsanne are the full-bodied, traditional white blending partners of Southern France, in this case as envisioned by the Rhône rangers of Central California. Think peaches and spiced pear with a nose of dew-rinsed flowers.



Next, a covered white porcelain dish was set between us with the careful instruction not to unlid it without first bringing it close to your nose. I did as bid to draw deeply on my inhaled reward, the earthy, garlicky perfume of what must be the most exquisite condiment known to man: freshly shaved White Alba Truffles.



These would adorn and enhance what had finally arrived, the main course of His and Hers steaks. Hers was an Australian “Kobe” Beef Tenderloin with Smoked Garlic Purée. I went full tilt with the Japanese Wagyu Strip Loin in Oxtail Jus. This involved some additional contribution on my part, however. What’s French for “somewhat fixed price menu”?

Never you mind. From Seattle to Napa, Frisco to Vegas, and all around L.A. I have avidly aspired to be an amateur connoisseur of cow. Nothing in my experience matched the masterful slab of moo placed before me just then.



Wagyu steer are a special breed developed in Japan. The cattle are raised in a pampered, spa-like environment that exceeds the comforts even of their human caretakers. Their barns are air conditioned. Their meals are of rich grains, beer and sake. They receive daily massages. And all of these conditions are said to combine to produce a beef unrivaled in its marbling, flavor, tenderness and juiciness. I, of course, ordered mine seared rare.

Have you ever had toro, the white tuna that comes from colder waters so the flesh is lightened from its usual pink by the extra intramuscular fat? It melts over your tongue like a pat of butter. Well, Wagyu is the toro of El Toro. It’s beef sashimi in every, slippery bite.



And it is mouth-gripping tannins with the power to cut through all that fat that makes red wine so suited for red meat. To handle this bovine bounty it would take the biggest of the big, all the way west to the ancestral home of Cabernet Sauvignon itself and where blends began, Bordeaux. The Château d’Armailhac, Pauillac 2004 was typically French in style: restrained berries, dark and earthy with subtle expressions of wet rock and leather. Playing around with my steak in some of the accompanying béarnaise with smoked garlic purée, the wine was just right.

By now, I’m almost laughing to see what else. The next course was like a cooling off transition before dessert. She got a Mango-Blood Orange Gelato with Micro Mint that was exactly as refreshing as it sounds. Having already tossed caution to the tornado, I chose not to resist the cheese plate featuring Pierre Robert, Four Year Aged Gouda and Wabash Cannonball. These three came interspersed with such complimentary delights as dates, truffled honey, an ancient and syrupy balsamic, and apricot chutney.



The salivary rhythm of sweet fruit to tangy cheese and back again was kept in motion by a midnight-purple dram of Quinta do Crasto Late Bottled Vintage Porto 2000. Got a stack of crêpes layered in raspberry cream cheese? Nix the Aunt Jemima’s and pour this port over it instead. Yah, it’s like that.

At last, the event the missus had been waiting for. Here comes the chocolate. She looked like a kid come downstairs to Christmas when they set the dish down. Cacao is getting as ritzy as wine these days. You can go to tastings and obtain single-source confections the way some wines are bottled from single vineyards. And so I give you, from left to right, a Tanzanian Chocolate Pyramid, a Hawaiian Kona Chocolate Soufflé and a Peruvian Chocolate Ice Cream and Puff Pastry.



As you may have come to guess by now, the closest I got to any of these was with my camera. I can tell you that the pyramid lounged Luxor-iously beneath its edible crown of real gold leaf and though there was no rendezvous in our future, the puff pastry nevertheless winked at me seductively with its cocoa lashes.



What I did get to taste was my own Caramelized Banana Gâteau, a crystalline modern architecture of vanilla, caramelized sugar, bananas and custard. I remember surveying the kitchen door at that point with something of a demented twinkle in my eye. I think I almost quit my job and tried to live there. Oh, well. It’s nothing that a tall glass of ice cold milk and a new metabolism can’t fix, right?



But wait, we weren’t finished just yet. As if dessert itself wasn’t sufficient, along came the plate of after dinner treats: powdered lemon cookie, dollop of whipped cream decorated in more gold leaf and raspberry dust, tangerine paté de fruit, and chocolate truffle.



When it really was time to go, parting was such sweet sorrow. I mean literally, sweet. They gave my wife a single, budding red rose, but I got the little loaf of fresh-baked Brandied Orange Date Nut bread that would rekindle a measure of the evening’s magic over the next several breakfasts to come.

To Chef Scott Hunnel and Pastry Chef Erich Herbitschek I bend low across the middle. Thank you, gentle sirs, for a memory that can’t truly be priced. And to my best friend on what was our fifth: Happy Anniversary, Sweetpea. I’d marry you all over again…

But if we do, can it be here?