8dpo And My Cervix Got Really High

then

If you read some press gastrointestinal, you can not have escaped the "pipolisation "(Neologism listed) craftsmen of the product, once illustrious unknown. The parsnip is decent
than Thiebault, cheese Machin, veal Desnoyers, pepper and butter Vives Bordier
... But after the circle gastroparigot (Alligre, Market President Wilson, Great Grocery, Lafayette Gourmet and its neighboring Japanese Kioko Issé or-never without my combawa) past the périf is the Koh-Lanta.
Yet the market at Poissy, at the end of the RER-A-stand what adventure has nothing to envy Joel Thiebault. Three times a week, fruit and vegetables are always found by a traffic more women from 7 to 77 years. It is that producers / sellers combine plastic with attractive velvety eyes (blue) and strong, calloused hands.








Women quiver (they have read Lady Chatterley) the prospect of a cream of parsnip or parsley tuberous ...



... a salad of crisp baby fennel, tomatoes and multicolored late at prices far less than stratospheric central Paris.


Regarding Apple land, found throughout the Charlotte, shot Re, the Ratte and snobbish Vitellote without problems, plus some new ephemeral (the ones I get press kits that we never really say which is adapted to puree to the pan, steam ...) but never the good old Bintje versatile.
So, between nostalgia for the real mashed potatoes and fried superb, we dropped below the mantle where to find the addresses, as in the days of the occupation ...
It spawns even with the neighbors Roscoe Jenkins: After garlic Arleux traffic, traffic to potatoes: "Say, when you get on Fourmies at Christmas you bring me back a bag, you take good Kangoo? "

At Chapel Market, the atmosphere would have changed: I heard this morning that following the recent Egyptian-Algerian écheauffourées the World Cup, vendors Egyptian fruits and vegetables, suspected to be the cousins of caillasseurs Algerian players are stigmatized.
The quality has improved, although still a few sellers of rotten vegetables, those who put forward fresh goods and you sell the old one which is hidden behind. So I am using for those who let me choose clementine with leaves to make beautiful on my way then to burn on the stove.
There are also a beautiful fish at affordable prices, the sardine fillet of yellowfin.
And suddenly I can not believe my eyes, Bintje, in quantity, 50 cents and 3.5 euro per kilo ten pounds ... My dad would be happy in the south, they are very difficult to find, by the bag of potatoes in the TGV becomes the latest "it bag", there is only one step ...



Tonight this will be aligot for the sausage is more complicated ...
Without having eaten the last sausage frozen herb reduced to Saints, I fall for a partridge in Sologne, I'm going to break loose from Colonnata and casserole, the game is so fast dry ...

My Secret Chips: Peel the Bintje
only if they are old, otherwise wash and cut the skin. Cook ten minutes in boiling salted water, pat dry on a cloth and then finish cooking them in duck fat.
Eating with the homemade mayonnaise mixed with mustard equally

How To Make Diaper Cake Baby Carriage

Mistral loser

Where we learn that the rates Ryanair benefit restaurateurs, the Swedish government (25% tax and state alcohol monopoly we do not fund eighteen months leave Maternity by miracle) and French winemakers
Back ... 'A long weekend in Stockholm, that's where the small collection of Hachette is timely, we measure the perverse effect of prices broke from RyanAir ... moreover, can someone tell me how to amortize planes, pay the kerosene, pilots and airport charges with tickets to 0 €? RyanAir is always subsidized by governments and the tourism boards ...?
Indeed, when it comes to pay a return Beauvais Stockholm 49 euros (29 + 10 + 10 booking fee for payment by Visa, ah, ah ...), does not hesitate to offer a good restaurant in one of the most expensive capitals in Europe, maybe a tad less than London, though ...
Hesitation between tables renamed the capital city during a previous trip, I had dabbled on the Sea of Pontus and other breweries, which I had fond memories of New Scandinavian cuisine served in beautiful rooms of wood and chrome, and where the fixture to the chair and the dishes are all beautifully designed and chosen
... Just look around and return the plates and cups with logo to review at once all Sentou, State Headquarters and the Now Design section to live Maison et Objet.
By following the curve of the hand bent-birch glued or hull of its head, it plays to recognize icons: Aalto Sariñena, Eames chauvinist ... but not too much, even the Scandinavian open seats Le Corbusier in their coffee shops. We nibble cakes
spidery zoubliés grain and seeds with notes of licorice pending a kitchen cleared the merger and re-anchored to its roots land-sea-forest.
Our choice of the evening, the restaurant Le Mistral (one star), has moved to the suburbs, allowing us a small 700m warm-up beyond the metro in a dark street (it is dark for 3 o'clock in the afternoon). It is lit only by small traditional lamp behind the windows of the ground floor of small wooden houses painted without shutters or curtains.
The restaurant is located in one of these houses. The frame is downright monastic, widely spaced tables, everything is white or ecru. Raw linen tunics waitresses are just modern enough to avoid an image of Carl Larsson, the table where they cut the bread candlelit evokes a composition of Chardin.





Everyone is affable but when the wine it spoils:
Fonsalette Red Castle 2001 (100 € euros anyway! The first bottle is 60 €), is shown then we open somewhere out of sight, the boss proposes the carafe, which he did before then we used to nimbly carafe in the fridge behind the bar, we see the corner of his eye. We ask him to leave at room temperature.

carrots raw and cooked lobster and raw
saffron, coffee, meadowsweet



says it all: a few slices of carrot hide a lobster cut in three, another is wrapped around a microphone mashed carrots. Oil is prepared with a pipette, saffron is homeopathic virtual coffee unless it be the powder on the bottom of the plate. I never traced the Meadowsweet which I still smell heady and sweet in the nose, associated with bees, having felt and trampled all my childhood and also drunk as tea.
IN-TER-LO-QUES we were

potatoes with dried lavender and brown butter, creamy
egg and fish eggs with yogurt




Four districts of almost raw potato and browned on the outside, standing on a microlichette fish eggs with yogurt, buttered brown particles, soft-boiled egg yolk cold, not feeling lavender
IN ... -B-LO-QUES we were re-

Root vegetables flavored with seaweed and sea juniper
apple juice, raw onion and oyster drinking



A little better with that one , though:
Medley of Songs forgotten vegetables, raw, poached, fried, sugar beet in all its forms, some potato chips ... a very good cube of potato, sounds a bit thin ...
From chews (salad), yes, algae, where? Broth cold drink side, 100% oyster in the nose, 100% celery ball in the mouth gathers no nothing like that. But this is my son who bears the final blow: "it is not gargouillou. St. Michael pray for us!

Lobster Swedish carefully roasted, raw and cooked beets, cocoa, dried berries and hibiscus in a brown butter shellfish



Now I'm more objective, raw beetroot, but at a pinch there, and cooked for the second consecutive flat, tired ... it
The tail of the baby-fried lobster, claws boiled or steamed and peeled. Cocoa powder, hibiscus powder I do not know what she said (different title) and coral powder St Jacques are still figuration homeopathic, one begins to think they could have s express surface lobster, lukewarm in the end. For small hard berries, cranberries? not rehydrated as lobster, why when the acidity is already provided by the oxalys,? Far too many people in this base where everyone dances alone in his corner.
But I wanted to love the powder as a pollen Coral Sea but we've played less than a mandolin ...


Chevreu it based baked, poached cabbage and crusty bread and green squash




excellent fillet served pink as a piece of boiled cabbage and a piece of fried fat-calvo nero lamb, it works. Given a cube of squash but no bread, neither green nor white. Surrounded by a thin layer of translucent Colonnata, another piece, cooked him, who said better ? (Drumroll ...) two days! At what temperature, please, we would like to know because it might be a culture broth. We've all been sick the next day but of course we have blamed the Thai lunch, and if the offense is not a dirty mouth, that!

Zucchini creamy sorbet almond
olive oil and fleur de sel



Today, the pumpkin replaced the zucchini cold soup version, actually a kind of custard slightly potironnée and ice cream with almonds complex. But the whole is just barely sweet. The leader does not yield anything, it persists and signs in the flower of salt.


cherry tomatoes preserved in hibiscus juice
blackcurrant, ice milk and raw honey





Another dessert that is a bit redundant (you must amortize the Pacojet ?), yet sweet lip ...
With coffee filter warm completely bland (but snoring pedigree), a spoonful of chocolate mousse emulsified in water with more olive oil served with the same foam version of dehydrated chips hiding small pucks for almost sugarless chocolate praline.
to tarnish the whole was moderately liked the forced sale of the second bottle of sparkling water ten minutes after our arrival: the glasses filled to the brim begins as soon as they are in the best American diner and the bottle that uncorked arrives at the table immediately. At dessert time, Rebelote, filling glasses to the brim, we assume the 3rd bottle and we are required by telling us it is offered. At the time of the addition, the three are duly charged ...


Ultimately many technical but with one third of bof, one third of rambling and a third acceptable for me is a loser Mistral country stars ...

Ideas For Saree Blouses

Castêtus Botanicus

child I was biberonnée to Latin botanical; I confess that I spent a little over his head: my father was talking forest of Quercus and Cedrus, and when my mother opened a jar of dried under Crataegus soothing, sweetish smell my rose
heart ... More Later, I made the Peterson guide wild plants in North America my bedside book. Long, I am driven in the morning, then I drank my coffee barefoot in my garden of Yvelines name my perennials in Latin, French and English vernacular, blocking pitifully at each return of spring after months off before throwing in the towel and diagnose MYSELF Early Alzheimer ... (I must say that over 400 perennials, it started to jam!)
When it leans a little botanical nomenclature is fascinating.
The rigor of this sometimes giving poetry, a plant or fungus can be defined by:
-habitat "pratensis (grass)
-properties: Amanita" muscaria "kills flies and makes people very sick without killing them is his girlfriend "phalloides," it far more treacherous because of its resemblance to harmless fungus, which gets stuck


-its taste, sometimes subjective or overestimated Lactarius deliciosus (while the "edulis" from Boletus edulis only means edible!), besides Roger Phillips, a native of perfidious Albion, does not he write with a touch Irony?, about the delicious milk caps: "Much esteemed and edible On The Continent"
-color: "Alba", "albissima," "albicans" (white, very white, white) and why make it simple, as in Greek with all versions of "leucobases"
-style "reptens" (creepy)
-shape "bifidus" (two branches) or "phalloides (phallus-shaped with the same register all star categories, one which many mistake for a bad joke mycologist schoolboy, the Phallus impudicus, we mark off because of its stench and nearly at its fly-Pilot )
- its "inventor" Inocybe Patouillardii, not very credible for a deadly fungus, Theodore Patouillard, yet it had the cool air as the name of mycologist. At the same time that Mr. Fuchs gave its name to the fuchsia should save you once and for all the recurring fault on the spelling of that color.
Snob, Latin, botany, you say?
Not at all, because take a look at Courson or Saint Jean de Beauregard (Sunday) and see the nursery hair pulling in discussions with clients surreal because of all the vernacular or regional names given to plants ( when you come out of Latin Frenchified): the "finger thing", "horns of stuff," "the fountains of thing," is like the "snowball" and other "Negro heads" (they say chocolate meringues, what should we say now?) When talking about mushrooms.
Because of my gargantuan last harvest, I had neglected yet another fungus that is dear to me: agaric or pink meadow, or rather pink meadow: Arvensis pratensis, campestris (with source) or sylvestris (or near the woods), or bisporus, this band of wild cousins, which was domesticated in Paris mushrooms. I have a soft spot for Snowball, (that's probably accurate !!!), Agaricus macrosporus, anise-scented and sometimes I pick up in the Cevennes around the house, his hat can reach a diameter of 8 to 10 cm before opening.
But it must still be vigilant, I had a few years ago a false joy in discovering a trail of agarics extraordinary, she was still there last week at All Saints:



actually Agaricus xanthodermus (hell, but of course xanthos as yellow as ... dermus dermis) or Agaricus yellowing, easy to identify when we know hardly touched because it is tinged with yellow.
Strangely, it can make you sick ... some people only.
In France, swears by the Paris mushrooms perfectly closed and they are discarded or sold off as soon as their plates pink brown. Yet, in Britain and the United States, it sells and fully mature adult subjects with their almost black strips under the name of Portobello. The heads are often placed under the grill with garlic and herbs or fried in slices to garnish the most snobbish hamburgers.



My dilemma, eating or not eating these agarics pushed flush with the exhaust?

In fact, mature blades provide a very powerful perfume, which returns the mushroom-button to the rank of small player.
If you are interested in mushrooms, buy a serious book that really helps to identify the return of the collection. Many books I have fallen in the hands and it is remarkable because it has mushrooms young, old, twisted and cut.


Book translated from English by Solar:
http://www.solar.fr/site/les_champignons_&100&9782263034589.html

I have already mentioned, but I insist, the books by Roger Phillips ( sometimes in association with Martyn Rix) would be among the first that I would choose if my house was on fire ... What

purists forgive me, next time I will take care to check the botanical writing conventions: capitalization, parentheses, italics (I suddenly Blogger mysteriously deprived of these subtleties and tools hitherto usual layout, fonts, sizes !) and in a second step we will cultivars ...

My Knuckle Is Bruised And Sore To Touch ?

Cocagne

Alleluia
Gods answered me when I no longer believed.
October 22, the woods were yet friendly, small foam invigorated by the first rains, but no trace of fungus, a mushroom unless incongruous, beautiful and fresh, unique sentinel. While I was
down in the south, a friend calls me and says he "made" in the forest of 4.5 kilos X (somewhere in the Ile de France, I do not want to expose myself to his retaliation ...) I prances and n 'I constantly go back to Paris although it has announced an exit in the Cevennes. I could mount Lozère eyes closed but I will not take the risk to puncture the tires of the Kangoo father just because she wears a plate of Gard ... Monday, returning to Paris, I left standing after the wood gatherers Sunday (with the philistines who collect plastic bags). When I arrive with a friend Tuesday at 10 am 30, I am furious : Already 4 cars and a cold rain that began to fall. I met a collector who is leaving the forest, it is at the very least 6 kilos of beautiful specimens in the arms, the paper bag exploded under the weight and the rain ...
Three or four guys marauding, heavy bags in hand, but I do not know, I'm off to my corner, 10 minute walk. The gap in the fence of the game reserve has been closed since the week after, we must remove the barbed wire and very quickly it is a festival is known as one every ten years



My friend was beginners luck, she uncovers porcini mushroom on and discovers the thrill of the hunt, I remember when his incredulous amusement when I was describing to him what it took when another of my fads.


Attention mimicry, three fungi are hidden in this picture

Indifferent to the cold rain pierces us and laughing at our ridiculous Kway, one comes to wonder if the mushrooms do not broadcast any substance hallucinogenic or at least hilarious. It is only hunger and the arms that take under 15 kg that we are out of the woods.



time to dry vaguely hair swallowing a panini at the counter of a bakery and buy tennis socks to try to wipe the inside of my Doc Marteens, we leave for another timber for further 5kg in one hour until that the combined effect of the light down and have a meniscus fragile because of our euphoria
Before the rain, I have not had the courage to clean there. Sort, clean, slice and bake at once large and ill fucking then slice and freeze in strength enough to fill a drawer full freezer will take us until 10 pm.



I have never in my life seen such a concentration of beautiful subjects, not a worm and very little slugs, but nothing except to throw the big foam, a miracle. With
caps:
Peel and dry the mushrooms if they are dirty wash under running cold water with a soft brush or Scotch Brite nine. Dry well.
Slice thinly and arrange in a circle on individual plates.
Place a fillet of your best olive oil, a little sea salt and a few drops of lemon juice.
were first printing of a mushroom of Paris behind for a second then it explodes in bursts of humus and forest ... sublime ...

I like mushrooms in cream but when they are as good, I cook just flat loosely nor bullied, into slices to skillet with olive oil or duck fat.
In Barcelona, in the tapas bars, they serve them like that, gilt-edged with olive oil with a raw egg yolk to burst in the middle of the plate, completely decadent.
Yesterday I removed the nets of a guinea, (I confit the legs and wings in duck fat with garlic and thyme for another day) and have them stuffed with butter mixed thyme of my land, sage and savory (picked last week in the dark in the valley near Argensol Sant'Ambrogio) and surrounded by bacon.



This small canyon of dry scrubland 11 months on 12 may collect devastating and deadly floods


I also milled and chopped green cabbage quarter. Broth with the carcass, I had a very small risotto classico while all the threads gently braising. Cabbage juice sauce bronze while I was skipping a few mushrooms in duck fat and I finished the risotto a dollop of mascarpone and parmesan with a turn of pepper ...
Guineafowl, savory, bacon, risotto, porcini mushrooms and cabbage ... it works very nicely ...

How To Capture Xbox Pc Capture Card

atavism or tribute?



To better understand what we are, we can not ignore those who have preceded us. I do not know why I find myself today in Paris, far from my ancestors was feeling stronger than ever and despite me calling the seasons.
Something in the air, and here I am in the woods, despairing of finding any mushroom this year ... not reassured the prospect of being the target of a hunter, (is it my fault that the most beautiful chestnut Yvelines is fenced hunting preserve?).



I tell myself every time it would be prudent to put a red parka and ostensibly whistling 'Biche oh my lamb! "Not to be mistaken for.
But I so love me melt silently to flush out a whole herd, as this magical day on the edge of the Desert de Retz.
Not the tail of a mushroom, Amanita let alone a poor or Russule.
But chestnuts superb, the chestnut is surely derived from grafted trees:




Chestnuts Cevennes saved my ancestors from starvation but now in the Paris region will pick them up, peel, cook and peel the second skin (by burning the fingers when they cool it becomes impossible) then patiently while cranking just move from Picard?
Why me? I do not know, something pushes me, or so my mother and inspires fun up there ...
And yet it is far from over, and this mash, I patiently cooking with brown sugar and vanilla, but much less sweet than the chestnut.
Then, small formality: a house sanded and salted butter and lemon peel, a layer of velvet rose hip jam (see post from last year), a bit of unsweetened whipped cream ...
... and finally, more pig, a little dark chocolate melted with a small shot of cream ...
says it all ...

Fotos De Patricia Monterola

I liked Regal


Once is not custom, I will discuss today's latest book which I participated.
If the mood, tone and image you vaguely remember something, do not be surprised.
Anyone who knows me knows how much I loved work for the magazine Regal, with Julian and Nicolas, passionate and demanding ...
is left as a joke and the pleasure we work together again soon resumed.
The idea was simple, not a scientific poll of all those dishes that delight some and disgust others. At the head, offal, foot to the language with the brain as a champion out of category.
And also all the products unjustly massacred in the canteen or the followers of Mr. Apert: Brussels sprouts, endive, rabbit ... do not forget everything that is ugly, smelly, which glue or squirms: octopus, frog , stinky cheese.
few stars of the mob Kitchen us have also entrusted their basest instincts in terms of food-yuck. Jun Kanra shot the kitchen area with greed while the superb black and white photos of Tomasso Sartori sublimate blood in superb graphics (here I speak as Philippe Couderc!)
The book comes out in early November by Editions du Rouergue
You will miss it, here's the cover:
Also I put a little recipe, the donuts brains than did my mother, I made them somewhat more likely with a gremolata, hmmm, the traumatized brains boiled tell me thank you ...

Fried veal brains, citrus gremolata

a calf brains
150 grams of flour
15 cl beer
1 egg
a small orange & lemon and untreated
2 cloves garlic
½ bunch fresh parsley
1 tsp tablespoon olive oil
frying oil
salt, pepper


Sift flour into a bowl. Separate the white from the yolk and add it to flour. Add salt and whisk gradually incorporating beer until dough is smooth. Let stand at least 2 hours.
Peel the garlic and chop finely. Rinse and pat dry the parsley, chop it and pluck the knife. Grate the zest of lemon. Mix the garlic with the lemon zest and parsley.
Put the brain in cool water with a glass of vinegar and let drain ¼ hour. Carefully remove the membrane and the blood then nets to separate the two lobes of the brain and cut into cubes of approximately 3 cm square. Put it in a bowl with half the mince and olive oil, salt and pepper.
At the last moment, beat egg whites until stiff and gently fold into batter. Heat the frying oil. Dip the pieces of brains in batter and cook until golden. Drain on paper towels and serve immediately with remaining gremolata and slices of orange and lemon.

Tip: Like all offal, brains are fragile and can not stand to wait. Cook it the same day.

PS: For some strange stories of conflict and file formats, I could see the original photos. The book was photographed Iphone without light, Iphoto sent via my mail box, crudely retouched photos ...

The original photos sont superbes car il y a des gens dont c'est le métier, heureusement...

Waffle Iron With Custom

fame is 15 minutes of celebrity and related

What is fantastic about the USA is that whatever you buy or eat happens to be “the best of the world”, nationally acclaimed" or “world famous”.
Yesterday morning, as I just stepped out of the Austin Chicago plane, I was starving -I woke up at 4:30, it was 9:45 and they had only offered us a drink (did I mention I bought my ticket on Cheapoair?)- so I grabbed a few pecan caramel cinnamon baby buns on the terminal G. I could hardly believe my eyes, they were “famous all over the world”! Wow!


Obviously the world must be reduced to USA, or Illinois maybe, or even Chicago airport terminal G?
BTW, the baby buns dough had not risen, the caramel goo with pecans was nicely sticky and it had more cinnamon than even a German bakery could use in a year (but I kind of expected that).
Where was I? Fame! The French believe Sylvie Vartan is famous in LA, that Alain Delon and Sophie Marceau are stars in Japan, are they really or is it an urban legend?
We all heard about these French chefs being famous abroad. I remember a pastry chef bragging of to me about opening a shop in Shanghaï, and me answering naively : “How funny, I am leaving next week to Shanghaï, is it somewhere near the Bundt?”,then he mumbled :” actually this is some kind of a project…”
I can tell I am really famous in my village. When I went to the bakery and the grocery after my mother’s funeral, everybody paid respect to me saying : “Oh, you must be Mimi’s daughter, the one writing cook books in Paris ? Your mother spoke so highly of you! She lent me a book of yours, I should buy it for my sister (my mother-my daughter), where can I find it?” Then the next day, when I sorted her belongings, in her sewing machine table drawers, I found every single magazine I had been published in for years, some as old as 20 years (she had them put aside at the local news stand, they receive only one of each decoration or food magazine), with written all across the page in large red block letters: “Blandine, page 26, ne pas jeter”
Of course my parents don't have a computer, even less Internet. My brother used to print my blog for her to read. I found a whole stack with notes from her hand, she had spotted and highlighted with a fluorescent pen every reference to my childhood, every wink and homage I was sending her…
Yes, I was famous in her heart, and for much more than 15 minutes…

Dis-advantages Of A Water Cooled Engine

NeoTexNippo kitchen, "slump" and Other Thoughts on Texas

I am leaving Austin today. I will spare you all the whining I have been unloading on my friends compassionate ears through the Internet all the week : the scorching heat, the dreadful jetlag,the windows you can’t open even at midnight because you still feel like you just opened the oven in a kitchen restaurant, tada, tada…

After we toured all the genuine tacos joints, walked every alley of Whole foods, raised my cholesterol level to an alarming rate in “Salt lick” (and tested my tolerance to Nashville meets Jimmy Hendrix solo guitar-cowboy. Besides, I can’t just believe my jeans shrunk in my friend’s stupid American drier), we went for the ultimate Bobo experience. In Mexico bobo means stupid, in Paris, well, you know…

A purist sushi worshiper would never enter such a place as UCHI, they would call it a sacrilege, a sin against Japanese sacred temple cuisine.

As I can tell by the numerous press exerts posted on the walls including Zagat’s, Tyson Cole is rated among top chefs in USA nowadays. The dishwashing student turned neotexnippo chef really had to carve his way through Holly Sushiland where Caucasian cooks are really frowned upon.

The place is jammed packed every day with a loud yuppy crowd.

We went for “omakaze”, the chef’s choice which happened to be the extensive list of “today specials”. Much to my liking, I was lucky enough to find the menu on the website http://www.uchiaustin.com/ and copy it, the waiter couldn’t wait, he described the dishes much too fast for us to even catch half of the ingredients.

And good it was, sometimes amazing, it reminded me in some ways the great menu I had in HongKong at the fanciest chef (I still have the pictures and have been procrastinating the posting for nearly 2 years now! Will be a great challenge to my memory)

UCHI TODAY

nightly specials

july 29, 2009

tsukiji sushi selection

two pieces each: isaki٠madai٠shima aji $35

Directly flown from Tsukiji market in Tokyo (see my entries on Japan) 3 kinds of what I would rate as the best sushi of my life, 3 white fishes, one of which lightly smoked, paired with the most delicate jewel like shaving of citrus, leek?, ginger, wasabi and an even more delicately touched with a feather like addition of infused oils or vinegar.

I now regret I didn’t try popping into the kitchen and ask the chef what kind of rice he used for the sushi. This one was long grained, soft but not mushy ; unlike most of the rice sushi I had, it served the fish rightly, not overwhelming but not disappearing either

uomaaru ebi

maine lobster٠fried egg٠lobster mushrooms٠herbs $24

A mildly disapointing salad, in fact a corean bibimbap style : warm beansprouts, lobster, mushroom, fried egg??, with tasteless lobster, in spite of a tangy citrus and basil dressing

hirame usuzukuri

thinly-sliced flounder٠smoked sea salt٠yuzu zest٠daikon٠quinoa candy $18

WOW! Fresh and cristal clear

shun no kaki

norumbega oysters٠wasabi٠ponzu $4/24

My friend loved them, I had only two oysters in my life, one raw, one cooked with leek, nearly forcefed by my friend Julien, editor at Regal, needless to say it was a big token of my affection

wagyu yaki

wagyu shortrib٠cucumber٠shiso٠shrimp $25

C habada, I am going to replicate that one : juicy marbled brown seared outside and tender inside boneless beef shortrib (slowcooked then barbecued?) paired with translucent marinated cuke, great heirloom beefsteak tomato with a hint of truffle oil, minced shiso and a gravy made from : (for this one the waitress was patient enough), pork belly, tomatoe, shrimp (crushed shells, I can feel it), much alike a concentrated version of a creamless Nantua sauce base waken uo with jalapeno, I am still drooling writing this…

kai jiru

maine mussels٠tomato water٠celery٠basil blossoms $16

A little disappointing, nice but far from being as sophisticated as the other dishes

isaki crudo

baby japanese bass٠fennel٠lemon zest٠olive oil $20

Yeeees, I am going to buy a Japanese mandoline, nowww…

usagi nuta

countryside farms rabbit٠pistachio٠brown butter $24

We didn’t get this one, I love rabbit but this is definitely neither Nippo neither Tex, but would have loved to try

foie nigiri

seared foie gras sushi٠peach٠basil٠jalapeno٠bacon $8

RESPECT RESPECT RESPECT

Brown seared foie gras, tied to rice with a strip of basil instead of the traditional seaweed, with the lightest touch of a paintbrush of a peach jalapeno sauce

Anxiously looking around to see if nobody from PETA was lurking around I rudely and “peasantly” wiped the last drop of fat that remained on the empty plate just as the waiter was grabbing it away from me.

shun no sakana

wild char٠shiitake٠corn٠lemongrass٠thai chili٠cilantro $21

A WOW again, the flesh is firm and not too cooked inside, the skin looks deepfried, so yummy, the creamed corn with miso sweet as baby cheeks, a discreet citrus gastrique giving the right zing to it.

We also orderedfrom the regular menu, 2 kinds of maki, definitely fusion :

Yellowfin, avocado, cilantro and Cie with an hoisin sauce laced with chili oil and toasted sesame, I could hear purists yell in my ear but I loved it

We also had an other Tuna based maki, served with a mayo ketchupy relishy sauce, yum, yum

okashi

chocolate : crunchy٠frozen٠powder٠soft $9

I am not much of a chocoholic, the “9 ways” association of mousses, ganaches, powders were more an inventory of technics. I wish we had the fruit and sherbet plate our neighbours got. We would have asked extra dessert and an espresso had the impatient waiter not braught the bill along with the dessert, which was kind of gross. The crowd was trepping for next service, the high pitched voice of girl parties getting loose on 100$ sake bottles was getting louder and louder, it was time for us to leave and have our espresso next door, on 1 ^st avenue famous Joe’s Café.

I am quite familiar with waiting manners in USA but that night the service was really a caricature. Yes, French waiters are arrogant, yes they treat tourists badly, yes they scare/cruise sensitive foreign female customers, telling them they are "charmantes", yes, asking for tap water makes you feel like you are the cheapest person on earth, BUT it is very difficult for me to feel compassion because waiters in North America are 5 times more numerous than in France for a similar amount of work.

As a teenager and a student I worked for years as a waitress in a very touristic southern France-turned hell tourist city in summer-village, Vallon Pont d’Arc, 2000 people lost souls in winter (including goats and straydogs) and 100 000 in summer. In the 70s, the village exploded, every peach grove and vineyard was erased to start campings and canoe rentals. Every garage or goat shed was turned into a “hand made local pottery” from a English factory, original local craft from Bali, pizzeria, salad bar or icecream parlour. They catered for throngs of German, Dutch, Swiss and Belgian tourists 3 ^rd degree burning on scorching sun and canoeing at day then getting drunk at night and indulging on pizza Ardéchoise (topped with industrial pasteurized goat cheese from a Normandy milkplant). All of us college students went to work there, mostly as waiters.Each of us waited up to 100+ sittings each at night (a little bit less at lunch), I remember going through the haze of pain and exhaustion, the excruciating leg pain at night when we slept on camping beds in the storage room. I remember a young cook, arriving each year early July chubby and loosing 40 pounds during the season, hysterically working and melting by the hell pizza stove then spending nights on all kinds of drugs (light and not so high) and boose, exactly what Anthony Bourdain described in Kitchen Confidential. I remember being fired once for stealing a popsicle with an other waitress. For weeks, we had being working 14 hours a day and fed 2 weeks old postdue stew forgotten in the bottom of the fridge while the owner and his family were eating fresh food at the same table. I was also nearly fired when I refused to give a gross 200FF fake bank note to the next innocent German who would pay with a 500FF as I was asked. All this for the miserable minimum salary, the filthy food being charged away from your paycheck, and the tips so miserable because we are asked to kick people out because others were standing in line.This is where I learned on the spot the “no passage à vide” rule, you don't have to got to Ecole Hotelière to learn that, noooo, you learn it the hard way on the spot :

In restaurant hell, you can never afford to walk a single step with empty hands, and I mean not even one. On you way to the kitchen you always grab an empty bread basket, take an order or two, pick up dirty dishes. On the way back you run and skate on the greasy floor with 2 Coke on your left hand, 2 Ardéchoises and a Complète (salad, pizza, pancake, whatever) swinging on your right forearm, yell “chaud devant” and find time to bitch back at the sweating lunatic chef who just told you to tell the client who had a special request just to go and “fuck off and introduce all kind of od objects up his ass”.

All this long digression to say that, noooo, I am not the French chauvinist,”we are soo good on the other side of the pond”, but yesterday we had as I wrote earlier the most blatant example of the other side of waiting manners :

First we were greeted by 3 cute chicks side by side, chearing at the top of their lungs : “Hi, guys, how are you, great to have you tonight!!” I felt like a long time no see cousin, they nearly jumped to my neck, I was embarrassed. Answering “fine, thank you” without showing all my gums made me feel like I was the lonely girl in the schoolyard who didn’t want to play the uncredibly funny game everybody was having so much fun with.

Then it didn’t stop, the waiter was so proud to unwrap for us the marvels of the menu, shrieked with happiness when we ordered what happened to be “his favorite food”, what a coincidence! Every time he took an empty plate away, he raved about “how fantastic” and “uncredible” it must have been, therefore turning us out from even starting saying so. He even shed a few tears when I admitted (after he asked where I came from, I still didn’t figure yet why all waiters mistake me for an Irish?) owning a country house 30 minutes from Avignon. Usually, when I am abroad I refrain from bragging about Provence being my home land, to be more accurate Languedoc, l’Isle sur Sorgue is so overrated, let’s talk Uzes, guys! To dry their tears, I usually tell them I don’t know Peter Mayle and that the high unemployement rate in south of France forced me to expatriate from paradise ages ago.

There is a legend that every waiter in Hollywood is actually an actor wannabe, this one really needed acting lessons and Clooney has not much to worry aboutcompetition yet!

Thirteen waiters were traffic jamming all over the restaurant, most of the time with empty hands, each of them in charge of 3 tables max, about 10-12 customers every 2 hours. With a minimum of 100$ each and 15+% tip, we are talking a 150-180$ every 2 hours, let’s say a rough 500$ for a 6 hours shift, more than a week wages for the average french waiter. Not bad …And I guess the Philippino cook at Uchi threw a pretty decent curry for the staff lunch. And, last but not least, I could hear no one yelling in the kitchen.

Now, next time you complain about french waiters, would you consider that : outside of Paris, where a few of them make a decent living, they are yelled at, are charged for food you wouldn’t give to a dog, and get misery wages. The good side is they don’t wait tables to pay for their Uni*, in France education is still free most of the time, thank God…

*This is a special wink for Akiko.

How To Power An Unpowered Subwoofer

miscellaneous An other day in Austin or how to survive it 109 ° F * 42, 8 ° C

First of all let’s pay a tribute to the homeland of Whole Foods (this paradigm of Boboland turned paradise that will be the subject of a full next post soon) by starting the day with an organic blueberry-pineapple-keffir-valencia-shake with the last fad : hemp powder to protect our stomach lining from what is to come later.

The green stuff on the side of the glass is not henna but hemp, (free of cannabinol, this is no space drink!).

Then, let’s follow the French motto : « Comment ne pas bronzer idiot » , (how to tan without looking stupid). Before getting into the idea that we are going to commit a crime against the planet, i.e. eating more animal proteins than an indian family in a week (or rather a year ? or a life for vegetarians, of course) therefore hastening deforestation and ozone émissions, we stopped by Fritz Henle exhibition in University of Texas. You might not know him (I didn’t) but as early as in the 30s this versatile photographer pionnered most of what we take for granted now in terms of fashion, ads and landscape photography aesthetics.

Mexican Henle's muse called Nieves 1935

Coming in and out of any air conditioned building is like getting a blow right in the face as you gasp for air. The scorching heat forces you to pace down and resign to producing the slow irritating flip-flop of sandals one can hear all over every hot place on the planet, from Caracas to Bali and Miami to Bangkok…
Then we headed for « Salt Lick » (named after the block of salt Texans give their horses to lick), which is rated among top 5 barbecues in USA. It is nestled in an oak wood, a 30 minutes drive away from Austin among huges ranches. Don’t expect to see anything like cattle or cowboys, all you can spot are wood fences, some properties can be as big as several thousands acres and you can drive hours without meeting anybody or a single cow.
« Salt lick » is an institution, catering for thousand customers every day, in you want digits, just look at the website : http://www.saltlickbbq.com/, it is BIG.
Crowds of locals wait patiently for their numbers to be called or rather « flashed »,( you are given that little device in many US restaurants now), quietly drinking at picnic tables beers they are retrieving from their own coolers (this county is « dry », selling alcohol is forbidden in restaurants premises but you can bring your own, call it hypocrisy ?)
For 90 minutes we waited on the shade, sipping on fresh lemonade while listening to a guitar playing cowboy. At first, acoustical Jimmy Hendrix was not bad at all but after an hour, the happy medley started taking a toll on my european ears and my rumbling stomach. Like every weekend, at 5pm more and more patrons were gathering, with the local sheriff and his boys directing the non stop traffic of hundreds of very expensive cars into the parking.


I had plenty time to « jaw drop » at the gargantuan pit, cheerfully invited by the staff to come backstage in the kitchen to shoot as much as I wished as I was starting to drool with anticipation.

The origins of grilling meat on a pit if the object of much controversy but we know for sure the smoking and the pork (hence the sausages) is due to turn of the century German immigration.
Here beef brisket is served, sometimes ribs also but pork spare ribs and sausages are very popular. Every barbecue has its secret dry rub spiced mix and/or special basting sauce. Sauces are mostly ketchup based, with different proportion of sweet and sour and chili addition.
We went for « family style », all-you-can eat barbecue with Tex Mex sides : coleslaw, potato salad, beans, brioche like bread with sesame seads, differents sauces, raw onion and tear inducing jalapenos.


The pork ribs melted in the mouth, the sausage was addictive, the brisket rightly smoked and not too fat. The coleslaw and potatoes were very mildly sweet, which can be considered a miracle in the South.
I tried to follow a friend’s advice (thank you P.) : « Put down your fork between two bites », « bring food to you mouth and not the opposite », « chew and enjoy »
I only had meat and coleslaw and when I bravely pushed away my plate I could still move (I was actually very proud of myself, maybe it also had something to do with seing throngs of customers three times my size gulping down a whole herd of Texan cattle).
We were wise enough not to have dessert and had a pecan pie wrapped to go for breakfast next morning.


Don't expect anybody to cook with butter here, Crisco is the King of shortening, it gives a pale and crumbling dough which leaves that margarine feeling on the tongue. The filling happened to be not too sweet or fat, a rather good surprise.
On the way back, we stopped by a huge indian temple and ashram just a mile away from the temple of carnivores.
We silently removed our shoes and tiptoed into a very kitchy praying room. Surrounded by posters of the guru taking dozens of dramatic poses in a flashy coloured indian studio (was he mimicking Mahabharata ?), a few devotees were uhmmmmpaduhhmming in the cool room. Was it some kind of ceremony on the remembrance of the holy Texan slaughtered cows that were so nicely filling our stomachs with bliss ?
I wouldn’t tell…

And, to paraphrase a dear friend of mine who will recognize himself :
"Now, where did I put that PeptoBismol?"