Flying is always stressful, and flying to France is more so only because Milady does not yet speak the language. I, on the other wing, can still, after all these centuries, order an edible repas with a respectable wine, even if I sometimes make amateur faux pas. The flapping of my wings on landing at Meringnac apparently caused the local weather to deteriorate into the low to middle 50’s with intermittent rain. While rain just runs right off my scales, the humans apparently require things called “raincoats” to avoid becoming soaked and cranky. (Why any creature would actually want a coating of raindrops is beyond my ken, but humans are strange!) Fortunately we were able to hide in a local eating spot, L’Ombragerie, which had delicious mussels and chèvre roti, and wait out the liquid sunshine…But that’s not the subject of this musing.
Tonight we dined at the brasserie in our hotel rather than brave the beastly weather. As they say locally, “Wow!” Milady began with the white asparagus. These are not your mother’s white asparagus; they are plump, flavorful and pushed through a neo-potato chip, like an arrow. The silky and crunchy textures made my mouth very happy and reminded me that menu descriptions sometimes lose something in the translation. The menu clearly hinted, at least to Milady, that the John Dory (which for unfathomable reasons the French insist on calling “St. Peter’s fish”) was likely to need filleting at the table. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Served in an herbed broth redolent with an exotic spice, baby carrots, celery, potato and other delights, this absolutely perfect filet of tender white fish was a joy. The human male, having gorged himself earlier in the room with four kinds of local cheese, freshly baked bread, dried figs and apricots, walnuts and homemade strawberry jam decided to forego an appetizer. (Me too, having sworn not to once again endanger my FAA certification through overindulgence.) He did dine on a beautiful small lamb sirloin, accompanied by artichoke hearts sautéed in butter and minced lamb with vegetables and mint served in a egg roll-like pastry shell.
The wine was a 2010 Chateau Mouton Rothschild, a local offering that provided a flavorful support to the meal. Desserts were a glace du chocolate, glace du pistache and glace du menthe-chocolate. They were delicious without needing a full recitation of their virtues – flavors that coat your palate and trickle happily down to the tummy really don’t improve with description, they demand tasting!
A delightful meal, professionally presented, and memorable for its harmonious perfection.
Tomorrow, a Michelian “star” experience to be shared.