I had to laugh. We were invited to watch France play Brasil for the 1/8 finals of the world cup, and both Pat and I felt a burning desire to get chips and salsa and cold beer. Why? not because we eat that all the time here, in fact we can't find chips and salsa (not good salsa) at all, and Pat drinks wine now, not beer, yet there we were - looking for beer at the last minute.
So, with 6 cans of 1664 (French or maybe it's German beer) in hand, off Pat went to the neighbor's house to watch the game. Me, I showed up later, but without chips and salsa. We met some new people and were delighted to watch France win the game. (Sorry Matt) Anyway, while there, we were served ... prunes. Yep. In the big bowl, in the middle of the table, where the chips would have been, were pruneaux d'agen. There was also a bowl of gummy bears. No chips. They had already eaten dinner and all the food was put away. (imagine that!)
The prunes were fabulous. Everyone would have a one or two, pull the flesh off the seed with your teeth and tongue, and then throw the seeds in the little bowl on the table. Just like eating olives. The taste is sweet and fleshy and great. The texture is not dry and tough like a dried fruit. These were moister than raisins, like a very ripe fruit, but not grainy. Very good. Humorous, but good.
And then, today, when I was out running errands, I stopped for lunch in a little casual place in La Varenne, but nearer to Champigny. Anyway, I ordered a tomato and basil and mozzerella appetizer, and a salad with very thinly sliced ham, a dry cheese and tomatoes on a bed of lettuce, and also, to my surprise a soft boiled egg on top. They do that a lot here, soft boiled eggs on pizza, sandwiches, quiches, and apparently salads. Anyway, my lunch was good, but the guy next to me ordered - STEAK TARTAR. I guess I never thought about it, but when it came, a mound of ground beef in the center of the plate surrounded by little piles of onions, garlic, and chopped fresh herbs, and oh yes, the egg on the top, all I could think of was...meatloaf. See when I was a kid, Dad used to make meatloaf from scratch, and would let me eat the raw meat before it went in the pan. Kind of like licking the beaters. Sounds gross, I know, but at the time, I loved it. I don't think I could eat a plate of steak tartar though.
So, I had un café, s'il vous plait, and took off for the rest of my day. But thought you would get a kick out of these two very different tastes of France.
