Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Dinner at a Fancy French Restaurant. In France.
This one the only night in Paris that we made reservations for dinner at an actual French restaurant. In France! Le Petite Marguery - Rive Gauche, just on the eastern edge of the Latin Quarter.
A brasserie does not count as a restaurant. This does. Once again, I had the three-course prix-fixe dinner. For the appetizer, I selected a veal dish, in a lemon cream sauce, with capers and fennel. Basically it was a cold veal piccata. And that was a very good thing.
For my main course, spare ribs of baby pig with olives.
It was boneless. I did not expect my spare rib to be boneless, but this is France. I also did not expect my pork to be this moist. It definitely had a high fat content, even though it was a rib cut and had no gobs of fat. It was very filling.
For the dessert course: souffle! Cherry souffle, served flambe with kir.
It was still light out, so the flames of the flambe are not visible. I never have had souffle before, and France has got to be the place to try. I knew souffles were egg-y, but I thought they were egg yolk-y. This was egg whitey, like a loose meringue. Actually, with the souffle being flambe, it tasted like a toasted marshmallow, with cherries in it. Awesome.
After the dessert course, the waiter brought out a plate of small cookies.
The whites were meringues. The circles were a crunchy chocolate coated cookie with a slight anise flavor. The elongated cookies were cake-like in texture. Very good. We must have eaten this plate of cookies too fast because they immediately brought out a SECOND plate of cookies.
One of the big disappointments of this trip (other than the Louvre) (and the Picasso) is the fact that I have yet to encounter a genuine snooty French waiter. Maybe it will happen when I get down to Saint-Etienne in East Central France. But this is my last night in Paris (except for the single encore night before I fly home next week), and this was my last chance to experience "the real Paris."
Anyway, a great meal called for a digestif: Vieillard Prune. Old Prune.
It was a powerful shot of alcohol. This thing tasted like it was 300 proof alcohol. I am so glad that the waiter did not flambe my souffle with this. The whole joint would have gone up in flames. At the very least, I would have no eyebrows.
Tomorrow is a travel day. Off to Saint-Etienne to watch some football,