Remembering our evening at Ernie's

Looking forward to some possibly fine dining on New Year's Eve (and our daughter's fortieth birthday), I had occasion today to remember that forty-one years ago my wife and I dined at one of San Francisco's (and the world's) most elegant restaurants, Ernie's, which I believe closed in 1995. We chose Ernie's on the advice of Dr. Patrick McClung, a colleague at IBM's joint Total Operations Processing System (TOPS) Project with the Southern Pacific Railroad. Pat was well-known on the project for his savoir-faire and cosmopolitanism.
    The occasion was to celebrate my winning a TOPS dinner-for-two award. Pat recommended that I send one of the secretaries over to pick up a menu for me to study beforehand. "And she should say it's for Doctor Dean and his wife," he advised. "That'll set a better tone for your arrival."
    I suppose that Pat could send one of our secretaries over (and yes, they were all female), but I wasn't about to impose. I walked to Ernie's myself and asked to borrow a menu—leather-bound, I was pleasantly surprised to learn. (I don't think I knew until that moment just what class of restaurant Pat was sending us to.)
    My wife and I looked everything up in Larousse Gastronomique, and we knew before we entered Ernie's just what we were going to have. I can even remember what we ate and what the waiter who served us looked like ("a Russian hussar," as I said in my memo the following Monday to the project manager, subject "Gourmandizing at Ernie's"). It's understandable, if somewhat incredible, that I still remember, we made such a to-do about it.
    Pat made some particular recommendations for the evening. "While you're waiting in the bar to be seated, order a glass of Pedro Domecq La Ina sherry." We did, and, wow!, I imagine that I can still remember how fine it was.
    Pat suggested a bottle of Puligny-Montrachet to drink with our aperitifs, and a bottle of Hospices de Beaune with our entrées. We did, and (as incredible as anything else about the occasion) we drank both bottles and still managed to get home in one piece to dismiss the baby-sitter, whose fee was also covered by the dinner-for-two award.
    While I can't claim to be utterly certain at this point, I think that these are the items we had:

Aperitifs: Turtle soup, caviar, pâté de foie gras.
Salads: Kentucky limestone lettuce for my wife, hearts of palm for me.
Entrées: Lamb chops for my wife, medallions of beef for me.
Desserts: I had to consult my wife, who remembers that we both had chocolate mousse.

By the way, we really, really blew the budget the project manager had set aside for the award, and future recipients were limited to a specified reimbursable amount (one of my fondest IBM memories). But in 1968, the restaurant bill for all of the above mentioned was only about $100 for the both of us.