Margaret Pilgrim

Watch out, Bux. You are beginning to sound a lot like me. Seriously, I am ceaselessly amazed at the number of people we encounter who can't navigate a serious menu in French. Moreover, I wonder why they have so inconvenienced themselves by coming to a neighborhood place that probably has a simple ardoise, which, granted, is better than the old purple mimeographed sheets that no one, French included, could decode. There is a very simple machon in the 6th that we have used for over a decade, Machon d'Henri. It is tiny; really, really, "whose hand is that on my knee" tiny. The food is classic Lyonnaise of an very ordinary quality. The service is competent but not really service by any purist definition. We like weeknights better than weekends, but they are open on Sundays, which is a failsafe for us. My husband goes for the 7-hour lamb, I for andouillette. We use this place as a comfort address when we are tired and overfed and just want to be someplace familiar. Last time we were there, a couple of weeks ago, two different couples left after trying to read the chalkboard. When a third settled in and started showing signs of stress, my husband told me to give them a hand. I suggested that because of the peculiar angle of their table to the board perhaps they could use some help reading the board. They accepted with gusto, then begged us to translate as well as read to them. When we were finishing dessert, the husband leaned toward us and asked what we had had for dessert. I told him strawberry tart. He said, "No, in French". How do you get to France and not be able to figure out which of 4 or 5 dessert items might be the strawberry tart you are drooling over? This little machon is frequented mostly by regulars from the neighborhood. I have questioned how this is possible in the middle of the touristy 6th. My husband' answer: They don't make it easy for people who don't speak French. Interesting.

With all of this good input, I look forward to your report, Freckles. When your group visits the 20th, do consider Chez Raymonde. As I remember, there are several rooms or alcoves that would seat a group nicely. Edited to add that you shouldn't be put off by my choice of Andouillette. There were many other choices such as carre d'agneau, faux-filet, entrecote, boudin, sole meuniere as well as the house profiteroles for tamer diners.

Hoping that you took John T's good advice, I hope that you will let us know if you did try L'Ourcine and how you found it.

I hope that you were able to sample enough of your companion's dessert to have made up for your caloric economy. I have a gut feeling that you really have no concerns re overeating, and that when in France you should just "have at it". I'm glad you enjoyed L'Entredgeu.

Here is just one source on the net. Click here I'm sure there are dozens more, and that if you look in the spice section of your supermarket or fancyfood store you will find it in both/either powdered and pureed form. It used to be difficult to find, but is increasingly available as it is featured in recipes in the popular press.

Risking sounding like an evangilical, I repeat, "Amen, brother!" Bux, I jealously guard names of several back-street neighborhood dining rooms. But I need to explain that it is not only because blending into these anachronistic treasures is one of the major reasons we go to France, but because praise for many of these can be so easily misconstrued. What brings us delight can easily be a small, crowded, smoky, dingy room with sketchy service, no flowers or candles. Perhaps to us the food is ethereal; perhaps to those who follow our endorsement, the food is unremarkable, or, quel horreur, worse, eg, andouillette! I would love all of us to share all of our finds all of the time, but this is simply not practical nor is it wise. I read the French press religiously, and try to visit likely prospects as soon as I locate them. And as soon as they hit the American press, I feel that they are free game. In the meantime, I can only say, enjoy your finds. Share them with kindred souls who can blend into the woodwork and not alter the ambience, and publish when the end is apparent.

Amen, brother!

Forgive my lack of control, Robert. It was the cry of a devotee mourning that this tiny gem will soon be pressured well beyond its capacity. The sad part is that many people will flock there only to be disappointed by the postage-stamp size, well-meant but barely adequate service, single nightly service which will pressure reservations to the absurd. The food is not mannered nor haute, just very, very good neo-bistro plates currently enjoyed almost exclusively by locals. With the delivery of October Gourmet, "there goes the neighborhood". This little room can't weather the popularity of a multiple-seating operation like La Regalade.

We tried Couleurs de Vigne for a light dinner a couple of weeks ago. It is as Freckles and Lou describe it. The owner is tremendously charming; his welcome is generous. You will find much more "from the heart" food at other more food-oriented wine bars, but our dinner was nicely presented, delicious, plenty. My husband opted for a cold plate of gaspacho, 4 rounds of a good goat cheese, probably 3 slices of Basque ham; I had a fine pot of cassoulet. Surprisingly there is no corkage charged; you pay shelf price for whatever you drink. Our total tab for food and wine was...29.5 euros! We were amply stuffed and well cossetted by the owner, who urged our return when he saw us out. I should add that while we were having dinner, probably several dozen people from the neighborhood wandered in for conversation and a glass or purchase for an evening at home. Sweet place.

AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh! Please stop mentioning L'Ourcine!

and.......?

Where are you? Outside of France? 33.1.40.54.97.24 Inside France? 01.40.54.97.24 Is the operator telling you that the major trunk line is busy, or that your specific number is not working?

I think that Halland's quote is quite true. As a whole, Parisians do seem to be trim. Perhaps we assume that the overweight people we see on the streets are tourists. But get into the country a bit and you will find grossly overweight people as a matter of course. We spent several weeks in Burgandy this summer and a couple later in the Charente, and were appalled at the number of middle-aged and very young people who were clinically obese (like 40 to 75 pounds overweight). The percentage of overweight people we see seems to be climbing yearly. It is interesting that we see almost no overweight seniors. Perhaps they adhere to the habits of war rationing, of eating more natural foods, of not eating on the run, of doing more manual labor. In addition, we are noticing increasing warnings in the French press about the urgency of addressing diet, weight, nutrition, excercize.

231 is one of my favorite places to meet friends in the San Mateo/Hillsborough area. I used to like the old incarnation a lot. Food from the new group has blown both hot and cold, some plates have sung, others just sat there. The service (at lunch) is always adorable; the food is decent even when not inspired. The prices (at lunch: $18 for 2 courses, $24 for 3) are quite reasonable considering the venue, civilized service and plates. This sounds like lukewarm praise, but I have frequently eaten poorer food with abominable service in a much less hospitable dining room. As I mentioned to start, it remains an address that is convenient and comfortable for me compared to the alternatives in the immediate area.

I think maybe they want them that way! I am reminded of an attempt, early in my marriage, to duplicate my husband's grandmother's "Poteca" (pronounced Poh-teet-za), an Austrian walnut-filled sweetbread. I thought mine was perfect, but he said that it wasn't like his grandmothers. So after many, many tries, I finally asked, "What is so bloody better about hers?" He answered that she made hers in a wood-burning oven, and it was burned on top. Sigh. It's all about tradition.

First, I want to tell you how jealous I am that your trip will include the 'Foire Internationale Gastronomique' in Dijon! I really feel that you need little of our counsel if you are already so attuned. That said, I would recommend that you email or fax the local tourist offices of regional centers, and even villages, along your planned route (you can find the addresses under the village name in Michelin). These most dedicated people will send you, both electronically and through the post, extraordinarily detailed information of food-oriented venues in their departments. Bon appetit! (Wish I were there!)

A delicious proposal!

Read everything you can get your hands on by or about A.J. Liebling. He would probably be considered a gourmand. He did not have pretentions that qualify him as a gourmet by today's standards. He loved good food, preferably in ample quantities, especially when paid for by friends and probably enjoyed levels of quality that we, sadly, envy today.

We have just returned from 10 days in L'Yonne during which time I ordered Andouillette five times. I kept trying to order something else, but in the last event something made me choose it. I was sorry only once: in a pretentious canal-side terrase restaurant where the chef tableside pimped his tub of summer truffles and early cepes, and where I should have known better, I was served 5 slices of andouillette, set on a bed of creamed leeks, encased in (rather soggy) puff-pastry. The other four times were excellent, from straightforeward grilled to Chablisienne seeded mustard-chablis-cream sauce. Frites or potato cakes accompanied most. I don't know why andouillette is one food that I almost fantasize about away from France. Perhaps it is because while I live in a food lovers' paradise, I can't buy fresh andouillette here at home. So, to my husband's chagrin, I order it day after day after day whenever I find it on the menu. "You can dress her up, but you can't take her anywhere."

I have never eaten here (because I never go out to breakfast at home), but many surveys put Dottie's True Blue Cafe522 Jones St, San Francisco, at a par or better than Ella's. From what I understand, the line is the same for both.

I like to think of them as intuitively concieved froths, comforting gellies, refreshing sorbets...Well, you get it. They are summer confections: sheer, delightful and perfectly balanced. Should you call this hubris, let me add that I need to pack tomorrow, and, trust me, wraps, shawls and gossimer scarves are my biggest inigmas!

Once again, Bux, well said. I was confounded by our reaction to our single dinner at MVA. It was not a bad meal; it was, simply, by our standards, an ordinary meal. Once Marlena compared it to a San Francisco dinner, light bulbs flashed! Of course. It was a dinner we could have found at home someplace around the corner, ergo, not a meal we travel to France to experience. In reflection, I can trace most of our disappointing meals in France to what I can best describe as international food in quintescentially provincial venues. As I wrote to an eGullet friend, perhaps success in food and life depends on "knowing yourself".

So true; perhaps the subject of another thread? As soon as we place our orders for such non-American foods as frogs, andouillette, tripe, kidneys, squid, we are embraced by the staff. In several out-of-the-way places (Bugey, Haute-Loire) we have been the first Americans to visit. They are much more interested in our eating habits than our dress.

My husband and I once enjoyed a magical evening over a very simple dinner with a very simple wine in a very simple restaurant. He proclaimed that he had never enjoyed a wine so much. So I tracked down the precise wine, vintage et al, and bought him a case as a surprise. It took us a long, long, long time to get through this quite ordinary wine, day, by day, by ordinary day! You can't buy magic by the case.

Supposedly the stamens are bitter. I cook squash blossoms both ways, depending on how compusive I am at the time. I suppose that it depends on the variety, age of blossom both at time of harvest and how long it has been kept before cooking, etc, etc. If you are happy with the finished product when you have not bothered removing the stamen, I guess you have answered your own question. It's no longer a problem for me this season; I got so tired of thinking up blossom presentations three or four times a week that I told my husband he could uproot said prolific plants and put them in the compost! Gone.