My favorite Cardio-thorasic surgeon came to NYC on Friday the 9th with the exclusive excuse of visiting me. Playing tour guide is a daunting responsibility in any circumstance, but even more so when your guest is the most neanderthal of man's man who is craving to be cultured. Sam was very clear in letting me know that he wanted to stay within a short distance of my apartment and his hotel (which was only 4 blocks from my apartment, thanks to my careful planning, and the awesomeness of this neighborhood). So planning the target destinations for his stay was easy. I figured that we had to hit Prune, Peels, Pulino's, and Saxon + Parole. But that only covered lunch, dinner, brunch, and breakfast Sunday... We still had Saturday dinner to decide.When Sam effusively told me that the meals we shared at Saxon + Parole and Prune were the best food experiences he'd ever had in his life, I knew that it was my karmic responsibility to bring him somewhere that would challenge his previous perspective of food entirely; I chose to bring him to WD-50.I called WD-50 at about 1pm on Saturday, hoping to get a same day reservation, but knowing that my chances were slim. Relying on my legend as the oenogal, I decided to cross my fingers and drag Sam over to Clinton St anyway, figuring that the oenogal can always, at the very least, be able to snag a couple spots at the bar.But alas, no. This particular Saturday was different. Wylie Dufresne himself was in house, cooking and prepping at the pass. The restaurant was booked to the gills. At first glance, this would not bode well for the oenogal. But what does it hurt to ask? And so I did. And behold! As the oenogal (and this was shocking even to me, and I'm pretty damned cocky and rarely floored by circumstance), I was told that there was indeed a free table for me and my guest -- and the chef had personally offered it to me. We were invited to sit at the chefs' table -- a tiny table for two that sits right outside the pass, just out of the line of traffic, but just inside the kitchen with a full view of the magic behind the scenes. We were cut off from the rest of the restaurant; away from the other patrons, but inches from Chef Dufresne and his crew. I found it difficult to breathe, I was so excited -- but the oenogal always keeps her cool.Meanwhile, country-bumpkin Sam, goodness bless him, addressed Wylie Dufresne himself (no, I am not making this up!!!!) to tell him that our table was wobbly. I almost died. The oenogal almost melted into a pool of poor etiquette right there on the spot. Oh, Sam, how refreshing it must be to to a chef of such celebrity that you not only have no idea who he his, but that you have relegated him to table-straightening duty. And guess what? Without missing a beat, the cool-as-a-cucumber Wylie Dufresne had the maitre d' himself prop our table with coasters. The oenogal, of course, remain with cheeks beet red throughout the entire exchange. But kudos to Chef! And a shout to Sam as well, who clearly lives in a cave without cable TV and freshly prepared food.Before even the first course of the tasting menu arrived, we were presented with the amuse bouche, a gently pickled fluke that had been lightly seared. Sam poked at it, and then looked at me horrified. "This fish is RAW!" he gasped, not even attempting to hide his disgust from me, or the cooks surrounding us in the kitchen. "Oh, crap," I thought -- here I've brought this Kentucky born and bred man's man to the hub of the creation of molecular gastronomy in NYC, and he's already refusing to put the amuse in his mouth... And we have about 15 more courses to go! Yikes! Perhaps I reached just a little too far in my ambition to blow his mind? I've gone 360, and made him crave McDonalds!Discreetly, I had Sam switch plates with me, so that we'd both send back an empty plate. There was no way that I was going to insult Chef by sending back the entire dish untouched. Even more importantly, I didn't want the kitchen to scale back on its creativity just because it seemed that Sam was an Oaf. At least let's give him one more shot. Bring on the next course!From the first course onward, not only was it smooth sailing, but I honestly believe that Sam almost entirely forgot that I was even there; he was so in love with the meal, and so intoxicated by the pageantry of the grace of the staff in the kitchen, that he was almost inebriated by the experience alone. The wine pairings were overkill.It's pointless to go through the courses individually. Suffice it to say that Sam proclaimed each his "favorite and much better than the last!" all the way until the final desert. For me, I was a bit starstruck by the fact that Chef Dufresne himself placed my plates before me. How do you even tip for that on the check? With my first born?This morning, Sam could not stop talking about how WD-50 changed his life. The textures, the pairings, the flavors, the service, and most of all that incredible table right in the center of the action! I don't think he realized how special it was, but I know he'll never forget it. And you know what? The oenogal has had a million wonderful meals in a million wonderful places prepared by a million wonderful chefs, but I'll never forget last night either. Excuse me, Wylie, but my table is wobbly.