Latest news with #N95
Time of India
2 days ago
- Health
- Time of India
City hospitals pad up to guard against infection
Kolkata: Personal protective equipment, or PPEs, the full-body uniform complete with gloves and mask that doctors and health workers wore during the pandemic to prevent infection spread, have made a return at some private hospitals that now have Covid patients admitted. At least three hospitals have armed their health workers with the full protective gear and have appointed nurses who attend only to Covid patients. One of the hospitals has even decided to levy an extra charge for the protective gear. Even though the current strain has so far triggered mild infections, it could be dangerous for the elderly with comorbidities, and children, doctors said. Peerless Hospital now has two Covid patients — a 15-year-old boy and a 72-year-old man— who are kept in separate single-bed rooms in an isolated area. "Two nurses are attending to each, and they wear full PPE. They are not attending to other patients. Doctors, too, are wearing protective gear while attending to Covid patients, though, unlike the pandemic time, they are attending to other patients as well," said Peerless Hospital CEO Sudipta Mitra. Peerless Hospital had PPEs in stock, said Mitra, adding: "Since this involves extra cost, we have decided to charge Rs 200-Rs 250 a day for the gear. Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Trending in in 2025: Local network access control [Click Here] Esseps Learn More Undo The Covid-time price curbs don't apply now." RN Tagore International Institute of Cardiac Sciences (RTIICS), which has one Covid patient, has given PPEs to doctors and nurses attending to Covid patients. "We are using a version that has no face shield but a mask," said RTIICS intensivist Sauren Panja. Manipal Hospitals, which have maintained adequate stockpiles of PPE and other essential safety supplies as part of a standard preparedness protocol, now has four Covid patients. "Our healthcare workers are fully equipped to handle Covid cases, including the use of appropriate protective gear. We have also reinstated RT-PCR testing facilities across our hospitals. While testing was scaled down after the pandemic, our diagnostic teams have maintained the readiness to resume testing at short notice," said Tanmay Banerjee, senior consultant and director of critical care, Medica Superspeciality Hospital, a part of Manipal Hospitals. Ruby General Hospital tested two Covid positives in the last week and admitted one. "Nurses attending to them wear a protective gown used during the pandemic. Doctors will wear masks but not PPEs unless numbers rise," said Ruby Hospital general manager - operations Subhashish Datta. BP Poddar Hospital has an adequate inventory of N95 masks, gowns, gloves, face shields, and PPE kits. Healthcare workers at Desun Hospital have been provided protective gear to attend to Covid patients. "We maintain a robust stock of all essential protective equipment to ensure the safety of our patients," said Shaoli Dutta, group director, Desun Hospital.
Straits Times
5 days ago
- Health
- Straits Times
Forum: Set up cubicles for smokers so that the walk to TTSH is smoke-free
Forum: Set up cubicles for smokers so that the walk to TTSH is smoke-free I often see many smokers gathering along Jalan Tan Tock Seng to smoke, as smoking is prohibited within the nearby Tan Tock Seng Hospital (TTSH). This has created significant discomfort and inconvenience for visitors to the hospital, particularly those with respiratory conditions or sensitivities. The smokers often congregate in groups on both sides of the road, making it nearly impossible for those passing by to avoid inhaling second-hand smoke. Even wearing an N95 mask offers little relief. As a non-smoker and lung cancer survivor, I hope the relevant authorities will consider installing designated smoking cubicles that can contain and filter smoke. This would protect public health while still providing a space for smokers, and help ensure that the walk to and from the hospital remains safe and pleasant for all visitors. Lim Yeen Tee More on this Topic Forum: What readers are saying Join ST's Telegram channel and get the latest breaking news delivered to you.
New York Post
23-05-2025
- Health
- New York Post
New home test can detect cancer — thanks to puppies who sniff it out
Howl-elujah! You've probably heard that dogs can be trained to sniff out cancer. Now, Israeli startup SpotItEarly is harnessing that remarkable ability — along with groundbreaking technology — to launch medicine's next secret weapon. 5 SpotItEarly is developing a revolutionary at-home cancer screening test that's part pup, part AI. Courtesy of SpotitEarly Inc The biotech company is developing a revolutionary at-home cancer screening test that's part pup, part AI. Here's how it works: You order a test that arrives at your door, breathe into a high-tech mask that resembles an N95 for three minutes and mail the sample to SpotItEarly's lab. There, a team of professionally trained dogs will give it a good sniff — and if there's any cancer present, they'll know. 'Our dogs are natural workers and love being mentally stimulated by their sense of smell. Training them to detect odors wasn't a challenge; it is in their nature,' Shlomi Madar, CEO of SpotitEarly, told The Post. 'With around 250-300 million receptors, a dog's sense of smell is estimated to be between 10,000 to 100,000 times more sensitive than a human's. That is what makes them highly effective for scent-based tasks, such as those in police forces or for detecting diseases in humans.' 5 These good boys will give your sample a good sniff — and if there's any cancer present, they'll know. Courtesy of SpotitEarly Inc According to Madar, the dogs make their diagnosis by detecting cancer odor signatures in a patient's volatile organic compounds (VOCs) — biological information from the blood in our lungs that travels into the air we exhale. As incredible as these pup-fessional super-sniffers are, the real magic happens when canine intelligence meets artificial intelligence. 'As the detection dogs are sniffing the samples in the lab, we use our proprietary AI platform, LUCID, to track and analyze their physiological and behavioral signals, collecting thousands of data points per second,' Madar explained. 'LUCID will generate a positive lab result if a cancer signature is identified in a sample. This fusion of advanced technology with the extraordinary olfactory abilities of canines enables each sample to be screened in a fraction of a second, making the solution highly scalable.' 5 As incredible as these pup-fessional super-sniffers are, the real magic happens when canine intelligence meets artificial intelligence. SOPA Images/LightRocket via Getty Images The goal is to spot cancers earlier, when they're easier and cheaper to treat. 'Too often, cancer diagnoses come too late,' Madar said. 'Our goal is to reduce late-stage and potentially fatal cancer diagnoses. The data is clear: when we detect cancer earlier, we significantly improve survival rates and outcomes.' The test, which is in late-stage development, is expected to hit the market in 2026 with an estimated price tag of $250. That's per cancer type, with bundled discounts for multi-cancer screenings. 'We plan to work with health insurers to cover the test to reduce the financial burden on patients,' he said. 'Once it becomes commercially available, this will be a high priority for us.' In a recent clinical study, SpotItEarly's cancer-screening method clocked a 94% accuracy. 5 'Too often, cancer diagnoses come too late,' Shlomi Madar, CEO of SpotitEarly, told The Post. Getty Images If it works, it may save you a trip to the doctor and an unpleasant procedure. 'Many individuals avoid routine cancer screenings because they can be uncomfortable and invasive,' Madar said. 'By simplifying the process to a self-administered screening test where users just breathe into a mask, [this] levels that barrier and encourages more proactive testing.' Research has found that only 14% of cancers in the US are diagnosed by a traditional screening test. While SpotItEarly is not looking to replace them, Madar said he does want to 'improve the cancer diagnosis and treatment ecosystem, shifting it from sick care to true health care.' Now — back to the dogs. 5 'Our dogs are not lab animals; they're truly a part of the SpotItEarly team,' he said. Courtesy of SpotitEarly Inc The pups work a few hours a day in teams and they're rewarded with treats and love. When they're off the clock, they get outdoor playtime, belly rubs and plenty of human attention. And when they retire? They're adopted into loving homes — often by the very people who worked with them. 'Our dogs are not lab animals; they're truly a part of the SpotItEarly team,' Madar said. And while cancer is the priority for now — especially as it's mysteriously on the rise in younger people — Madar believes the tech could one day help sniff out other diseases too, including Parkinson's and serious infections. 'We aim to make early diagnosis the norm, consequently increasing the chances of survival at scale,' he said.
Yahoo
22-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Violet Affleck argues with mother Jennifer Garner about true cause of California wildfires
Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner's daughter Violet Affleck went into detail this week about how she and her mother argued about the causes of the Los Angeles wildfires that destroyed their Pacific Palisades neighborhood in January. "I spent the January fires in Los Angeles arguing with my mother in a hotel room," the 19-year-old wrote in Yale's Global Health Review, where she is a student, in a piece published on Sunday titled: "A Chronically Ill Earth: COVID Organizing as a Model Climate Response in Los Angeles." Affleck continued of Garner, "She was shell-shocked, astonished at the scale of destruction in the neighborhood where she raised myself and my siblings. I was surprised at her surprise: as a lifelong Angelena and climate-literate member of generation Z, my question had not been whether the Palisades would burn but when." She wrote that while some people at the hotel saw the wildfires as a "burst of bad luck" that was a combination of high winds and little rain, she knew it was related to the "climate crisis." Jennifer Garner Seen Kissing Boyfriend John Miller As She Spends Time With Ben Affleck For Easter Along with Violet, Affleck and Garner, who divorced in 2018, also share Fin,16, and Samuel, 13. Read On The Fox News App Affleck compared people being forced to wear N95 masks because of poor air quality after the fires to the COVID-19 pandemic, writing that, like the health crisis, climate change will "soon become impossible for even society's most insulated to ignore." Like What You're Reading? Click Here For More Entertainment News She wrote about the "promised end to the pandemic has been more a matter of public relations than public health," adding that public health officials were soon forced to grapple with "ongoing waves of infection" even as the country came "out of the pandemic." Jennifer Garner, Ben Affleck's Daughter Violet's Graduation Leaves Actress In Tears She also noted that coronavirus can be "a threat to even the healthiest individuals," specifying long COVID as an example. Last summer, the first-year college student, who often still wears masks, appeared at a Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors Meeting, speaking out against mask bans after Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass said she was looking at the legality of wearing masks at protests. Affleck wrote that despite the effectiveness of wearing masks, more proactive steps need to be taken to lower coronavirus infection risk, just like for climate change. Click Here To Sign Up For The Entertainment Newsletter "Though widespread N95 masking is indisputably the most effective tool for individuals to prevent COVID transmission, masking alone is both more resource-intensive and more reactive than collective interventions like paid sick leave for all workers, universal healthcare, and clean air standards requiring HEPA filtration and far-UVC light44 to kill airborne virus in public spaces," she argued. Ben Affleck Shuts Down Teenage Son's Request For $6K Shoes: 'I Have The Money, You're Broke' Affleck concluded her essay by saying, "In the same way that COVID-conscious and disabled people celebrate each chain of transmission broken, climate scientists recognize that each degree of warming we avoid will be a victory. It's time for everyone who cares about the latter to engage with the people, the methods, and the political commitments that make the former possible." Last spring, Garner shared several photos on Instagram of herself in tears during and after Violet's high school graduation. Violet is Garner and Affleck's oldest child. "Tell me you have a graduate without telling me you have a graduate," she wrote in the caption, adding in parentheses: "Bless our hearts." "How are we going to make it? What are we going to do?" Garner asked in one video taken on an airplane as she wiped away tears. Garner also told Southern Living in an interview last year that she has striven to raise her children to be humble despite being born into wealth. "It's really important for my kids to see that everyone doesn't have the lives they see in Los Angeles," she told the magazine. "That doesn't reflect the rest of the world. I want them to grow up with the Southern values I had—to look at people when they say hello and to stop and smell the roses. If I could do half as good a job as my mom did, I'd be pretty happy." Fox News Digital has reached out to a rep for Garner for article source: Violet Affleck argues with mother Jennifer Garner about true cause of California wildfires
San Francisco Chronicle
20-05-2025
- Entertainment
- San Francisco Chronicle
Thomas Keller asked me to leave the French Laundry. It turned into my most extraordinary night as a critic
Thomas Keller is fidgeting on the bench next to mine in the empty courtyard of the French Laundry. There's a slight quaver in the chef's voice, and he tells me he is nervous. This is not something he is accustomed to doing, he says — asking a critic to leave. He's sure I'm a nice person, he tells me, but he doesn't know my intentions, and he doesn't want me in his restaurant. I had pulled into Yountville 45 minutes earlier to visit the favorite child in the Keller family of restaurants. My party of four was held outside the charming stone building nursing sparkling wine while we waited for our table, and though the sun had mostly faded, I'd kept on my extra-large, celeb-off-duty sunglasses. To ensure something resembling an ordinary diner's experience, some of my restaurant critic peers wear disguises. I am not an anonymous critic. When I assumed this role a little over a year ago, I chose to publish an updated headshot rather than try in vain to scrub my photos online. But I use aliases to make reservations so a restaurant can't prepare for my visit in advance. Sometimes, to delay being identified as long as possible, I'll arrive in an N95 mask or these sunglasses. The captain refilling our wine introduces himself as Patrick. Tonight, I am Margaret. Thirty minutes after our reservation time, we are ushered through the restaurant's iconic blue door and up a narrow staircase to an intimate room with three tables. The opening salvo of truffle vichyssoise is served, and then a general manager walks up to the table and directs me to follow him. 'If I'm not back in 10, send a search party,' I say breezily to my dining companions. We laugh. I don't bring a jacket. The manager leads me to a bench in the courtyard by the kitchen, under the branches of a sprawling tree. I wait but a few moments, and then before me is Thomas Keller, lanky in his chef's whites. 'Thomas,' he says. 'MacKenzie,' I reply, shaking his hand. 'I thought you said your name was Margaret,' he says with a sardonic edge. Keller does not know what I want from him, he says, or what I am doing at his restaurant. I'm not here to write a review, I tell him honestly. My predecessor, Soleil Ho, weighed in 2½ years ago, and it's not customary to reassess so soon after. But I eat at restaurants I'm not planning on reviewing all the time, and my credibility demands that I visit one of the most celebrated and enduringly popular restaurants in the country — helmed by one of the most powerful chefs in the world. Thirty-one years after Keller took over this two-story former saloon in Napa Valley, the lore of the French Laundry is as deep as its wine cellar. Look no further than Keller's recently released episode of 'Chef's Table: Legends.' I'll give you the condensed version here; for the full experience, imagine B-roll of Keller hoisting an American flag over his culinary garden or zipping around Napa Valley in a sporty vintage BMW as you read. After working at various Michelin-starred restaurants in France, Keller returned to New York in the late '80s and opened a fine dining restaurant for the boom times. The market tanked, and Keller decamped for a job at a hotel restaurant in Los Angeles, from which he was fired a year later. In the 'Chef's Table' formula, this was his rock bottom, the moment when he realized something had to change. He bought the French Laundry, a rustic farm-to-table pioneer, and remade it in his own image. Three years later came Ruth Reichl's 1997 New York Times review, which anointed the French Laundry 'the most exciting place to eat in the United States.' Keller enjoyed nearly two decades of accolades, both for the French Laundry and for Per Se, which he opened in Manhattan in 2004 and which quickly became New York's most exclusive restaurant, frequented by the strata of diners who own islands. When the Michelin Guide came to the United States, each received three stars. Keller was everywhere — winning awards for his coffee-table cookbooks, selling his own line of Limoges porcelain, consulting for Pixar's 'Ratatouille.' For mere mortals, dinner at the French Laundry became a bucket list item, an anniversary splurge worth staying in a relationship for. Then, in 2016, a bomb dropped: a scathing review of Per Se by New York Times critic Pete Wells. An alphabetical list of adjectives that appeared: 'dismal,' 'gluey,' 'grainy,' 'mangled,' 'rubbery,' 'swampy,' 'terrible.' But of all the barbs, the one heard 'round the world was a line describing a mushroom soup 'as murky and appealing as bong water.' Keller appeared to take the review in stride, writing in a public apology, 'When we fall short, we work even harder.' He even seemed to have a sense of humor about it. In 2019, when Keller recognized Ho at the French Laundry, he sent over a glass bong — 'the kind you use to smoke drugs,' Ho wrote — filled with mushroom soup. The French Laundry made the Chronicle's list of the Top 100 restaurants in the Bay Area that year. But after two more visits, Ho decreed it no longer worth the splurge in a 2022 review. A Norwegian king crab galette had 'the pasty hybrid texture of a cheap fish ball and a Starbucks egg bite.' The desserts, once exhilarating, were 'beige, repetitive and one-note.' The restaurant does not appear on the Chronicle's 2025 Top 100 list, which I co-authored with my colleague Cesar Hernandez. But tonight, the criticism that is fresh in Keller's mind is the Times' double-barrel review of Per Se and the French Laundry, which ran in November on the occasion of their respective 20th and 30th anniversaries. Melissa Clark, filling in as a critic after Wells' departure, described Keller's restaurants as 'stuck in a bubble of complacency' and 'tediously, if inconsistently, fine.' While Clark once found Keller's culinary sense of humor fresh, a de-stuffification of the hallowed halls of fine dining, his dishes now read as tired. 'Mr. Keller's food is no longer exceptional in a dining landscape that he is largely responsible for creating,' she wrote. Now Keller wants to talk about her with me, but her name escapes him. 'Melissa?' I volunteer. 'She lied,' Keller tells me, with visible pique. 'She lied until the very last minute.' I had heard whispers about Clark's visit to the French Laundry, the details of which were not included in her review. Keller wouldn't leave her alone, food world insiders murmured, and he made sure to inform her that his new chef de cuisine was a woman — a first for the French Laundry under Keller. Clark, a cookbook author and recipe developer who appears in New York Times videos, is a recognizable figure, with her glossy red hair and angular jaw. When she dined at Per Se, she was spotted. So for Yountville, she donned a blond wig and aviators and assumed the cover story of a yoga instructor named Emma. When Keller approached her in the courtyard, he asked if he knew her from New York. Clark, who later confirmed the details of this story to me but declined to comment on the record, believed Keller was not certain of her identity and decided to stick to her role. No, she replied, he must be mistaken. She lived in Santa Monica. After a lengthy tour of the grounds, Clark's party finally sat down, and it was then that she realized Keller and his team had seen through the wig. Servers began to toy with her. Where did she like to hang out in Santa Monica? What were her favorite restaurants in Los Angeles? The first course arrived. Her companions received soup in espresso cups, but for Clark? She got the bong. Keller's publicist, Pierre Rougier, told the Chronicle in an email after my visit that 'it was insulting, an awkward charade, and odd that (Clark) remained in disguise.' Past critics, he said, were recognized over the years, and when 'greeted by name, they acknowledged it and went about their job.' The day after Clark's piece ran, Keller clapped back on Instagram, posting a quote by the pompous, pointy-headed critic from 'Ratatouille: ' 'The bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so.' Through the kitchen windows I can see Keller's brigade, heads down, preparing the food I thought I was here to eat. He gestures toward them. The young chefs working for him don't deserve to have their work slighted, he tells me. He personally does not care about the reviews, he insists, but his staff? It gets to them. And for that reason, even though he doesn't know me, even though he's sure I'm a nice person, he does not want me here. Mortifyingly, I want to cry. I can feel tears welling along my lower lashes. Partially this is because Keller's vulnerability is arresting, like hearing your dad tell you he's scared. But, straight-A student that I am, I'm also unaccustomed to being reprimanded, and this feels unfair. I have never met Keller before. I haven't written a single word about him, positive or negative. Very much wishing I still had those sunglasses on, I tell him I'll respect his decision if ultimately he wants me to leave, but first, may I tell him a bit about myself? The French Laundry, I say, is quite meaningful to me. When my parents came to New York for my college graduation, they offered to take me to a celebratory dinner. Instead, I suggested we wait until I was back in the Bay Area and go to the French Laundry. I had worked as a server throughout college and took it seriously, a student among professionals who departed for Danny Meyer restaurants and the recently opened Per Se. Only the best of us could work for Keller, and I wanted to experience his famed hospitality, back at the mother ship. I remember what I wore that evening. I remember my delight at the salmon tartare cornets, the oysters and pearls, the coffee and doughnuts, all of which I'd pored over in the French Laundry cookbook. Eating those seminal dishes was like meeting a movie star; they were everything I had hoped for, if somewhat smaller in person. We took photos. My dad feigned a heart attack for the camera when the bill arrived while I looked on, grinning. I took the menu and that old-timey clothespin affixed to the napkins back to New York. Both moved with me to seven apartments, rattling around in a box with concert ticket stubs and old love letters. I tell Keller that I come from a restaurant family. My mother's parents opened Henry's Hunan on Kearny Street in San Francisco in 1974, and my cousins carry on their legacy today. Like Keller, my grandparents served a good meal to an open-minded critic on a charmed day, and that review changed their lives. How strange it is to now be on the other side, to hear this famous man's voice catch as he tries to find a polite way to ask me to leave. I feel the Napa Valley spring chill through my silk shirt, despite the heat lamp over my shoulder. A server brings us glasses of water, and I am grateful. Keller asks me if I know of his friend Michel Richard. After winning over Los Angeles with Citrus in the '80s and Washington, D.C., with Citronelle in the '90s, Richard trained his sights on New York. In 2013, he opened Villard Michel Richard. The New York Times savaged him, Keller tells me, and two years later, Richard was dead. Keller promises that when the time comes to pen his memoir, he will write about how that review led to the death of a good man. Keller mourns an earlier era when, in his words, critics and chefs were on the same team. He references Michael Bauer, the Chronicle's restaurant critic from 1986 to 2018, and describes him as a friend. (I reached out to Bauer to see what he thought of this characterization. 'I have nothing but respect and admiration for what he's achieved,' he wrote by email. 'At this point if he wants to call me a friend I'm honored.') As a young chef, Keller says, he would rush to the newsstand at midnight, eager to read what the Times' critic had to say. No longer. He gets it, he says. Newspapers must drum up controversy. What other reason could the Times have for hyperlinking to Wells' eight-year-old review every time Per Se is mentioned in an article? Keller then brings up Ho's review of La Calenda, his Mexican restaurant that closed at the end of last year. It was one of Ho's first reviews for the Chronicle and was exceedingly positive. But what Keller remembers is the headline — that La Calenda is 'cultural appropriation done right.' He twists Ho's favorable review into a slight. What does that even mean, he asks, saying that culinary cultural appropriation doesn't exist in America, a nation of immigrants. In a melting pot, cultural appropriation isn't a thing. After 30 minutes in the courtyard, Keller decides it's time to wrap up. OK, he says, that's enough, let me walk you back inside. He tells me that he'll feed me a little something before I go. I ask for clarity; if he still does not want me at his restaurant, I would rather get a jump on the long drive home. No, no, he says, that would be rude. As he escorts me to the door, I detect a shift. The nerves are gone. He's decided to cook for me, and he's now telling his origin story, one you can hear on 'Chef's Table' or his episode of 'The Bear' or his MasterClass or his ads for Hestan cookware. As a young cook, he worked under a French chef, Roland Henin, at a beach club in Rhode Island. One day, Henin asked, 'Thomas, do you know why cooks cook?' Keller's hand is firmly gripping my elbow, urging me forward a few steps, then stopping me whenever he has a particularly important point to make, as he does now. 'To nurture people.' As I walk back into the restaurant and ascend the stairs to my table, I am cold and hungry, my mind is racing, and my body is vibrating. A man whose books and cookware I own, whose restaurants I revered as a young person in hospitality, has let me know that, despite my new big job, I am a guest in his house, and he will decide how my evening will progress. In his email to the Chronicle, Keller's publicist said the chef found our conversation 'thoughtful and engaging, and MacKenzie did as well.' I return to my table rattled. My dining companions have asked after my whereabouts twice; the staff told them Chef and I were having a 'heart-to-heart.' There has been no additional food. Our reservation was for 7:45, and now it's past 9 p.m. I whisper to my companions that I think we're getting a grilled cheese sandwich and being sent on our way. A server informs us that Chef Keller would like to cook for us, and a sommelier says he's been asked to select our wines. Keller ends up sending an entire tasting menu. We make the best of it. There are the cornets, the oysters and pearls, the 'mac and cheese.' We get exactly the type of special treatment I had been hoping to avoid by calling myself Margaret. He makes truffles rain — 'apology truffles,' one of my dining companions remarks — and sends out a magnificent bottle of 2011 Ridge Zinfandel. Between courses, a waiter sets our table with fresh silverware, and I notice my butter knife is placed the wrong way, blade out. My brain reels with paranoia. What does it mean? At a place like the French Laundry, such mistakes are not made. It sounds silly now. It's not like I thought Keller was going to fill my pockets with pie weights and drop me in the Napa River, and I presume that Clark didn't think her mushroom soup was poisoned with anything other than rancor. But at a restaurant of this ilk, you pay for the privilege of submitting yourself wholly to Chef's genius and his staff's omniscient hospitality. You give yourself over to culinary surprise and delight. But what if that chef has decided you're the enemy? If I had been in Clark's position, I might have dug in as well, just to hold onto a shred of agency. At 10:30 p.m., before the meat courses have even arrived, Keller whisks us away for a tour of the property, showing off his geothermal system (very cool), his china collection (massive) and his trophy case of plates signed by celebrities, including Woody Allen (hmm). Back in the courtyard, he motions to a stately tree to the right of the blue door, its branches growing up and around the second-story deck, intertwined with the restaurant. 'She's in the autumn or maybe even winter of her life,' Keller tells us with a wistful note in his voice. He had been trying to figure out what to do when she dies. What replacement tree could ever be as magnificent as this one? He's alighted on a solution. Keller is having a replica made by the people who do fake trees for Disneyland and Las Vegas. When the tree dies, the duplicate will arrive, and it will be as if nothing has changed. We retake our seats for duck, beef and cheese courses and so, so much dessert. Finally, at 12:30 a.m., our server hands over a check presenter. 'Dinner is compliments of Chef Keller,' the bill reads, with a big fat zero perching on the 'total' line. It's the ultimate display of power, Keller's refunding of our prepayment of $1,831.75, tip included, and I drop my head into my hands. This is bad. Chronicle journalists are prohibited from accepting free meals from people we cover, but our server insists the refund has already gone through, there's nothing to be done, you're very welcome! I confer with my companions, and when our server returns, humble myself. Please, I say to him, you have to help me. I'm going to get in a lot of trouble. OK, he says. Let me see what I can do. When he returns, he brings a check for 93 cents. With tax, our total for the evening is one dollar. My friend, whom I'd previously Venmo'd for my portion, hands over his credit card, which our server runs for one dollar, and on the gratuity line, we add $1,830.75. Weeks later, after I had told Keller I was writing this piece, his publicist contended to my editor via email that the meal was 'free of charge.' I told Keller I wasn't going to write a review, and I meant it; I don't have much to add to Ho and Clark's recent critiques of the food. I will say that our servers put on the show of their lives, trying to save the evening, but all the cheerful professionalism in the world couldn't cut through what had transpired, the inhospitality of it all. Thirty years ago, critics lost their minds over Keller's innovations, his puckish fusion of French technique and American cuisine. If, Keller seems to insist, he and his team can execute those dishes with perfection, day after day, shouldn't the raves keep rolling in? And if they don't? Those critics can hit the road. A little before 1 a.m., I walk out of the blue door, pass under that majestic tree, get in my car and drive the hour and 15 minutes home. In a statement made through Rougier nearly a month after my visit, Keller said: 'Ultimately, it was my responsibility to feed and nurture them. I think we did that, and they had a wonderful time from what we could tell.'
