It burns!

Lemon juice in the eye!

Lemon juice on crab cakes--good!

Le Philosophe dans la Cuisine

Je suis en train de lire ce livre de Brillat-Savarin, gourmand extraordinaire et...avocat. Il nous offre des observations sur le gourmandisme assez étonnantes pour leur précision. Elles sont frappantes à travers les siècles. Il décrit l'obesité, ses causes, et sa prévalence dans la haute société. Ce n'est pas un bel état car les membres du corps sont déformés, les activités quotidiennes deviennent désagréables, voire impossibles. Il remarque que l'obesité est surtout prévalente chez les gens qui mènent une vie aisée et qui mangent beaucoup d'amidons (les pommes de terre, le pain, les pâtes...). Véritablement? J'ai été surprise de lire une telle observation. Nous parlons de telles crises sociales dûes à la mauvaise alimentation. Depuis longtemps, je prône les amidons car ils seuls ne peuvent pas faire grossir. Cela reste vrai. Je croyais que cette "guerre" contre les amidons étaient une création des industries de viande ou des gens contre l'OGM ou les subventions agricoles. Pourtant, sous mes yeux, j'ai une raconte d'un des gourmands les plus connus de l'histoire. Il a noté ce même phénomène. Souvent, il suffit de regarder en arrière afin de comprendre le présent.

Cela ne veut pas dire que je vais commencer à dénigrer les amidons. Ils ne font pas grossir eux mêmes. Les gens (à part ceux qui ont des véritables maladies) se font grossir en trop mangeant, en ne pas ayant des activités physiques, et, selon Brillat-Savarin, en ne pas dormant suffisamment.

Son livre est très précis sur autres éléments de la cuisine. Il divise les étapes de cuisson des viandes à merveil. Il comprend bien "la science des rêves" sans utiliser trop de termes techniques. Il comprend surtout l'intéraction humaine. Si vous aimez la vie ou la cuisine, je vous conseille fortement de lire "Le Philosophe dans la Cuisine."

The pleasure of eating

If there is one thing that makes me sad (maybe I have little to be sad over, but this is important nonetheless), it is seeing people who not only fail to derive pleasure from food, but feel guilty for enjoying it. So, what is their remedy? Not eat? Impossible. People need to eat. Food provides an extraordinarily sensory experience. Sight, taste, smell, sound, and touch. All of those things that numbers and "scientific studies" have distorted.

No, potatoes won't make you fat. Carbs are not "bad." You won't get fat if you eat a piece of dark chocolate cake.

However, you will be miserable if you consistently tell yourself such things, and you fail to recognize that you MUST EAT. Often. to live.

Moreover, what WILL make you fat is depriving yourself of something you love, such as a cookie, and then one day, finding yourself in a room alone with a box of cookies. After lying to yourself and saying that one cookie will make you fat, and after depriving yourself of one small pleasure and letting it fester in your mind and your stomach, what will happen? One box of cookies will disappear into the depths of your stomach, and will cloud your thoughts to the point of insanity. Keep it up, and you WILL be the obese monster you feared you would become.

People are better than this. There is so much pleasure found in a bowl of chicken stew--the chicken cooked so long it slides off the bone, the vegetables rich with the heady savors of wine, thyme, and melded with the other ingredients of the pot. The whole scooped up with thick chunks of warm bread. Afterward, close the meal with a rich dark chocolate cake. A meal needs to end well to satisfy you until the next. Pleasure should dominate your experience.

Eat when you're hungry, and stop when you're full. Don't feel guilty for eating because people need to eat. If you overeat one day, take a salad the next meal, but don't tell yourself, "I'm not going to eat x anymore" because it's not true, and you will make yourself miserable for having broken an impossible promise.

Eat, my friends, and love it.

Chocolate omelet

I meant to make a chocolate cake. I had bought a new hand mixer with which to mix my batter. My eggs were beaten to perfection. My chocolate was, and still is, top notch. The sugar was perfectly measured. Only--I forgot the flour--somehow. So now I have a nice fluffy chocolate omelet. It is delicious served warm, with a nice glass of cold milk.

Just what I needed

That is exactly what I needed, a tranquil week-end in Normandy with a good book (Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi). I didn't want to go out at all, I was content to by my baguette from the bakery 50 feet away, and I just wanted to stay in bed. It has been a long time since I've passed such a peaceful weekend. I appreciate it, even if I did wind up catching a cough due to the wet cold of Normandy.

We went to the Chantecler restaurant owned by the couple Pinel, in Bourth, to celebrate our engagement with his parents. It was as charming as always, with a new server to muddle things up a bit. I had a caviar d'aubergines, with yellow and red peppers crowning the ensemble. It was cool, refreshing, exactly what I needed. Next, the caille au vinaigre de cérises was savory to the last bite, especially since it rested on a small toast laden with foie gras! The feuilleté de roquefort and salad was a bit heavy for my taste, but I love roquefort, so I will not complain much. My dessert was the house specialty-soufflé froid au calvados. It was exquisite, a fluffy sweet cloud laced with Calvados. I felt satisfied but not overwhelmed by the meal. I know I will be entering into a good family here.

I spoke with his parents alone about our engagement, and their principal concerns are about working in the States v. Europe. He is in a precarious situation, with the potential for huge success, if he comes to the US, but if he stays here, he is set for life. No worries. I understand their concerns, of course, and I think I am much more flexible than him in the long run. It just depends on what one is looking for. If he is going to be here for the rest of his life, though, there may just have to be long periods where I am just not going to be there. I can't stay in one place like he can. I don't have those same close ties with people dating back 20 or 30 years. I've never been like that.

In any case, I am rested, coughing, and hungry again. I also HIGHLY recommend that you read Persepolis.

La Table Corse

Despite my protestations, we wound up dining at a small restaurant called La Table Corse, located in a small street in the 5ème arrondissement of Paris. We had reserved a table for 19H45, but we were the first diners there.

The interior is very charming, and very warm. The walls are beige, ochre, and orange stone, and paintings of Corsica line the walls. The tables are covered in creamy tablecloths, and the menu is in fact a small blackboard carried to the table by the server.

We spent a good five minutes debating what to order because, quite frankly, we wanted all of it. Foie gras with pain aux figues for an entrée? Or millefeuille d'aubergine? Or better yet, some renowned Corse charcuterie? I settled on a velouté de châtaignes avec amandes effilées et chanterelles, while he chose the foie gras. The portions arrived, and his slice of foie gras could have been a meal in itself. My velouté had just enough flavor to bring out the châtaignes, and was topped with a dollop of cream. I was starving, and was ready for the next dish!

The main dishes were even more difficult to choose than the entrées. The specialty of the house was sanglier braisé, so he decided to take that. I didn't want the same dish, but I was torn between the foie de veau and the carré d'agneau. Eventually, the absence of meat in my diet led me to the carré d'agneau. It seemed more appetizing on paper, I have no idea if this is true. However, my carré d'agneau was excellent, and was accompanied by châtaignes, chanterelle mushrooms, a delicate purée de pomme de terre and haricots verts au citron. If I could, I would have finished it all, but I certainly tried. Personally, I preferred my agneau to his sanglier.

By the end, we were both extremely satiated, and decided to skip out on dessert at the restaurant before taking a walk to l'Île de la Cité and stopping for some Berthillon ice cream (a.k.a. the best ice cream in the world). I was in a rich mood, so I took mocha and black chocolate, while he chose raspberry and pear sorbet. I think he may have made the better choice, but only to economize on stomach space. I don't know how Berthillon manages to capture flavor so well, but I could have been drinking a cup of coffee, the flavor of the ice cream was impeccable. If you ever have the chance to have Berthillon ice cream, do not miss the fraise des bois sorbet. There is nothing like it. Berthillon has managed to put fraises des bois in frozen form, with the occasional morsel of a fraise des bois. Perfection.

We strolled home from there, and went quickly to bed, as the food coma was settling in. I am glad to have been able to enjoy such a fine meal! I rarely go to restaurants nowadays, but when it happens, and the restaurant is as excellent as last night's, the meal stays in my memory long after the last bite!