The French are Roman. Civilized and yet barbaric.
Take for example our choice for a New Year's Eve meal. Quite by chance we ended up buying a last-minute "poularde" for which I looked up recipes and discovered one for which we could finally use the morilles my husband's uncle and aunt had collected for us from the forests near their home in the Jura. Poularde aux morilles, creme et Vin Jura--an earthy white wine which has taken my taste buds some time to get used to. (While I adore peaty whiskey, peaty wine has really been a slowly acquired taste...) Yum. As my husband considers mushrooms anathema, I was astonished tonight to get literal thumbs up after this meal from my son especially as the 'no mushroom' idea is one they hold vehemently in common. "Refined" my husband declared, scraping his plate clean.
Where does the barbaric come in? Sorry. It's been a late night (my son is not yet in bed) and I am busily picking away at the carcass--sorry vegetarians!!--of this poularde for tomorrow's proposed 'bouche a la reine'....hmm... Picking at the carcass of my "last-minute purchase" is not the barbaric I mean for I like to think I've raised her level of offering to the religious: her death was not in vain and, if she could attest to this as my husband can, I've thanked her nearly 10 times for her sacrifice throughout the cooking process.
Barbaric....back to the subject: Look up poularde. The French 'do' the same thing to the female chicken as they do the male rooster which they call a 'chapon' (capon?) and ADORE....it brings to my mind chubby eunuchs guarding the doors to harems in Turkey. Turkey, Turkey. The country. Castrati tenors....you get the picture?
Anyway....the bird was fatty, fatty, fatty. Poor thing. Makes me think of adolescents and acne...I'll let you connect the dots! sorry, bad pun. Raised "plein air" for 120 days, it had had a 'good life' as far as chickens' lives go.. (Sorry, again non-meat eaters) it was delicious. The Romans were right about a lot of things, especially about what tastes nice. They were able to overlook the barbarism of calves raised in tiny spaces, force-fed geese...all for taste. I guess it comes from having had an unclouded view from on top of the food chain.
Hmm... all this said, I still sure am looking forward to puff pastry and creamy chicken tomorrow.
But it does get one thinking....
On to dessert! and, oh the most civilized and incomparable of all drinks, CHAMPAGNE!!!!
Happy New Year to all, and to all a good night!
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