This is a guest blog written by Kim Cope Tait
This summer my husband and I celebrated 23 years of marriage.
The sweet little bistro-style patio of La Tour Restaurant in the Vail Village was reminiscent of the street cafés we’d frequented in Paris, and its warmly lit interior duly invited us. I anticipated walking in the waning evening light from our dinner to the opening performance of the Vail International Dance Festival, sated with delicious food and drink. La Tour did not disappoint.
We were greeted personally by the restaurant manager Michael, who treated us as if he had been eagerly awaiting our arrival. We chose and were seated at a corner table from which we had a view of nearly the whole restaurant and into which we could slide back and lean in to soft conversation and meals shared in small bites.
We ordered almost entirely from the specials menu expertly described to us by our waiter. This included a cheese plate with different varieties of exquisite European and local cheeses, orange-infused honey, candied walnuts and rosemary crackers. Accompanied by the glass of French red recommended by the delightful sommelier, it was an exquisite opener to a lavish meal, every single bite of which was a symphony of flavors.
Preparing great food is a true talent; combining colors, flavors and textures in a way that exalts the fresh, locally sourced foods themselves—that is the work of an artist. Indeed, Chef Paul, who owns La Tour with his wife Lourdes, is a virtuoso, and the care they both put into their work is evident in the presentation and delicacy of every dish, as well as in the tasteful décor of the tables and spaces in which it is served.
Our waiter, too, was gifted—masterfully balancing the task of meeting every one of our needs throughout the meal with the endeavor of doing so invisibly, unimposingly. Having crowned the meal with rich French coffee and a Crème Brulée Flambée, which arrived in gentle flames to our table with a wish for a happy anniversary, my husband and I virtually floated out of the restaurant.
Helping me on with my sweater, Michael wished us a very happy anniversary and sent us graciously on our way. Together we sauntered out onto the cobbled street of Meadow Drive and made our way, relaxed and happy, to the Ford Amphitheatre. “Perfection,” said my husband of 23 years. “Perfection,” I agreed.