Carpe diem and bring on the foie gras: It's my birthday

The most significant anniversary in my life is not my birthday, but the annual marking of the elimination of cancer from my body. That milestone is actually sometime in early July. After several years of sliding scheduling, however, I'd managed to let my regular mammogram and ultrasound slip into September. And, once there, what better date on which to schedule them than my birthday? First, because it's the one date each year I'm not going to forget. Second, because ... assuming those tests come out clear ... what better gift could I give myself than the affirmation of life after once coming close to losing it?

Thanks to the magic of digital technology, the results are instantaneous. Thus the highlight of my afternoon was the doctor telling me that all looked good. Three years in the clear. Two more to go and my risk profile returns to that of a normal woman. "Normal" is till a grim 10 per cent risk of breast cancer, but better than now. Each year, better. So ... time to celebrate.

The chosen destination: La Trompette in Chiswick. The chosen company: Two of my oldest friends in the UK, one of whom I met on the very first day of the very first long-term assignment that would eventually see me move here. It was a night for celebrating not just health and life, but the comfortable delights of friendship that deepens over the years.

I've been dining out a lot recently, at many fine spots. They pale in comparison to La Trompette, however, a place that reminds me what a Michelin star really means. Perfection. A staff that never sets a foot wrong. Exquisitely presented food, where every element on the plate is there for a purpose and delivers memorable tastes. A great wine list accompanied by recommendations that get you the perfect match to your meal. The residents of Chiswick (American readers ... this is a close-in suburb of London. Think of St. Louis' Kirkwood or Chicago's Lincoln Park.) are truly blessed to have a place of this quality sitting on a little side lane off their high street. And we're all blessed that they're offering weeknight special pricing of three courses for £37.50.

It was a grim day, weather-wise. A steady downpour had forced me to buy yet another umbrella, and the walk from the tube station was a blustery, moist, uncomfortable battle. I was half an hour ahead of schedule, but had no desire to wander anywhere else in the downpour. The staff didn't mind at all that I was early, settling me into the table and immediately bringing water and a range of flavoured breads to assist my drying off.

Next it was time for a little chat with the restaurant manager over champagnes. (I knew my friends wouldn't mind if I got started before them.) La Trompette prides itself on avoiding any of the established, easily available brands. Champagne is, after all, filled with small producers without the marketing budgets or size of harvest to become household names. Yet, arguably, these guys produce much better wine than the big houses. The trick? Finding them. La Trompette has assembled a fine non vintage list, with 15 different options ranging from £45 to £77. (The complete sparkling wine list, with vintage and options from outside the champagne region, numbers 34.) The manager diagnosed my preferences and steered me toward Serge Mathieu's Cuvee Tradition Blanc de Noirs, brut. Dry with just a hint of sweet fruit, sparkling without too much effervescence, biscuity with a touch of honey, and near the bottom of the price range. Beautiful. I had to pace myself not to drink an unfair amount before my friends arrived.

A few sips into my second glass, the long waxed jacket and Australian hat that came dripping in from the rain was whisked away to reveal a nattily-suited Nicholas. A half-glass later Christine had finally battled through the traffic. Time for the party to really begin. Weight Watchers in abeyance for the festivities, that meant foie gras. Specifically, the foie gras and chicken liver parfait with toasted brioche. The texture was firm yet easily spreadable. The feel like fatty silk in the mouth. The taste distinct yet not overpowering. The brioche perfectly toasted. And, quite remarkably, the waiter was on hand at just the right moment to offer another piece. I didn't need one, but this was a nice (and unusual) touch. Christine's single, large ravioli of Cornish crab and salad got rave reviews, as did Nicholas' onion and cheddar tart.

By this point we'd finished the champagne and moved on. To ... a schioppetino. This is only the fourth time in the eight years since discovering this wine in Venice that I've seen it on a wine list. (Regular readers might remember my glee and amazement finding it aboard a Caribbean cruise ship. See 20.1.09.). I'll borrow the wikipedia description: "aromatic, medium bodied wines with Rhone-like qualities of deep dark coloring with violet, raspberry and pepper notes."

It was a graceful complement to the succulently medium rare roast rib of beef that both Nicholas and Christine had opted for. Not, perhaps, so logical with my bream. But I'm going to drink schioppetino wherever I find it, whatever I'm eating. Turns out my fish had such hearty accompanying flavours, and the wine is light enough, that it worked OK. I'd opted for the bream because of its companion potato gnocchi (another favourite) and jerusalem artichoke puree with Iberian ham and truffle veal jus. You'll sometimes find me complaining in these pages of over-complicated dishes, in which you just can't figure out why ingredients are there, or you can't taste them. This dish demonstrated how it should be done. The bream served the role of a fine canvas, distinct enough to assert its own qualities but flexible enough accept and transform the notes laid atop it. The gnocchi were perfectly al dente, moist, firm and dense with starchy comfort, kicked into a taste sensation by the puree. I can't even guess how many of those humble tubers gave up their essence for that little zig-zag across my plate; the concentrated flavours tasted like a dozen. Ditto the jus, with pulled off the trick of being light while also retaining all those complex flavours.

The impressive cheese board tempted me, but it being my birthday, chocolate was really a requirement. Bring on the Valrhona chocolate marquise topped with macadamia praline, accompanied by vanilla ice cream, chicory creme and caramel. As with the main course, every taste was on this plate was there for a reason. The praline offered texture to the softness of the rest of the dish, while the vanilla and chicory tempered the power of the darkest of dark chocolates. And then, just to make life perfect, Nicholas shared his cheese.

Another year of life. Fine food. Love. Laughter. Why stress over the little things when you have these? Carpe diem, my friends. Carpe diem.