I went to Palm Beach for the first time in my life several weeks ago, and it was in many ways everything I expected it to be and more. First of all, the city is beautiful, and there is such a huge abundance of grass and carefully manicured lawns that the daily maintenance budget could probably feed a medium size third world country. The day was perfect, there was very little traffic and every one was friendly. Wow, I thought, are we still in Florida? If Miami and Palm Beach were a drink, it would be a mud on ice, served in a gold plated martini glass and accompanied by a waite, a food stylist and a dog walker (why dog walker: because it can). 

First of all, the food was very good. I had a duck confit that was on a bed of white beans (which weren't that interesting and a little bit less than al-dente). But the vicchysoise was excellent, and the dessert extremely chocolately, so much so that I felt my tan getting darker. I also sampled the butternut squash ravioli, which were some of the best that I had ever tried. The bread was very good, the service was excellent and very attentive, and we sat on the patio (PS Sit on the patio. Only losers sit inside). It was a great day, and it was the perfect restaurant to go to take in the Palm Beach experience.

But I can't stop with the food, because the ambience needs to be addressed. My group (three college kids, two of them with tans) were as much out of place as a fish in the spectator seats of Sea World. If you were born in Palm Beach, you would know what I mean. People aren't born in Palm Beach, they just materialize when they turn 60.  Age also seemed to be a very esoteric approximation, if we were to deal with people as parts of a whole instead of when they were born. No one was tan. No woman there was completely real (cough cough lady in front of me, aren't you a little too old for collagen?). Think of the Golden Girls meets Nip Tuck, and you get what I mean. Plus, everyone was rich. They just were.

I was really excited to note that I was sitting next to Anne Rice. Or atleast, someone who was big Anne Rice fan. The woman who I am speaking of us had very taught hair, a very taught face, and a very emotionless expression. I couldn't stop staring, partly because my vantage point was in her direction, and partly because I always imagined literature coming to life. Behind us, was the Ya-YA Sisterhood. Next to us, a very stern looking woman and old man who looked like they owned Palm Beach, or perhaps were part of one of the first families to ever settle planet Earth.

But c'mon. It's an experience. I would definitely go again, if not just for the food, but just for the people watching. Top this Miami Beach.

My rating: AAA- Once you're in the restaurant, you know its a hot spot for the rich and famous. I mean, rich and old.