Good grief, this group turns all lovey-dovey the minute you look away...
As predicted (well, it was planned so maybe the prediction wasn't too difficult) I spent Christmas in Provence. Very nice, sunshine, lazy waves against the hills, and the beginning of yours truely catching up with severe seafood withdrawal.
It'd been ages since I had urchins, except this time they served it blended in a crme brle nested into a half-urchin. Wonderful, the same texture minus the sugar, with that nautical taste that hits you behind the head unexpectedly. Happy Greg.
From then on it was scallops season, so served tartare-like on a bed of diverse shellfish - the truffle oil for the dressing was a bit like going for overkill, but after all I deserve a little indulgence. :) And of course there was bbutt, and possibly a glbutt of wine or two.
I tried a new one with scallops (imagine: 15 of them for just under 10 from the fishmonger!): you keep the buttorted slimey bits on the side, and when you're done with lighly grilling the scallops themselves on the pan (with some schallots and cider of course), you give them the same treatment. Normandy oblige at the end you add just enough crme frache to make your mouth water and then liquidize the stuff. Spread over the scallops in a cbutterole dish, sprinkle with butter and bread crumbs, then grill softly. 8o)~~~~
I tried poached oysters in addition but really that was pointless. I guess they're interesting if served right away in a nice sauce but reheated like that they were annoyingly close to mussels, tastewise. Oh well. La Tortue still serves duck with mushrooms in that port sauce, incidentally (if you go through Honfleur one day DEMAND to be taken there), and between two trains I chanced upon what must be the only waiter in Paris who smiles and is genuinely nice, even during rush hour. And that pot-au-feu was gorgeous (and big enough to feed three people).
Going back to work seems a silly idea now. I want to sit by the fireplace and plan the next meal, as usual. :)
Greg
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That time's long past, but what would I not give To see the whorehouse where we used to live. No spam: ficus = no(n)
