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eG Foodblog: Abra and Chufi in SW France - Tantalizing Tales of Tripe


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eGulleters meet in the strangest of places. So how did it happen that Chufi from Amsterdam and Abra from Seattle find themselves in a charming little winebar in a charming little town in the South West of France, where the bill is scrawled in marker on the zinc counter top? Because, well, can you think of any better place to meet?

Chufi to Abra: "So, here we are together in a wine bar in France, just you and me and a Spanish ham. "

Abra to Chufi: "Hey, what about my husband? Are you calling him a ham? Ok, yeah, he is a ham, but he's an American ham."

Chufi: "Well, I'm kind of nervous that just being in France and cooking with you and going to cool French towns and tasting all the wine in sight will be kind of, well, you know, boring."

Abra: "Hey, I know, maybe we should do an eG food blog about your visit."

Chufi: "But we've both already done lots of food blogs, would anyone even want to read another one?"

Abra: "Hmmm, you might be right. Just to liven things up we could invite bleudauvergne down to cook with us, and by the way that would be a great excuse to make her bring us some of that gorgeous cheese she's always posting pictures of."

Chufi: "Maybe we could cook something totally weird that I'd never make at home, like how about some......"

Abra: "There's this recipe for a stew of pigs feet and tripe that I've been dying to make."

Chufi: "Uh....."

Abra "Come on, we'll stay up late drinking tons of wine and then have tripe and pigs feet at 2:00 a.m."

Chufi:"Can we drink a lot of wine BEFORE we have to eat the pigs feet?"

Abra:"Come on, you'll love it, it's gelatinous."

Chufi: "My husband will never believe this!!"

Abra: "And there's no way my husband will even eat a bite of it, we'll have to cook a whole separate meal for him. I have a freshly killed chicken in the fridge with its head still on, we could cook him that."

Chufi:"Let's be nice to him. What would he really like?"

Abra:"Cheese enchiladas and something chocolate!"

So that's what we had tonight. For your first meal in France with us, we bring you, ta da, cheese enchiladas, which is actually quite an exotic dish, in France.

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And mini buchettes de Nöel, just to prove that we really are in France.

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And to further prove that we're in France, we're going to bed right now, even though most of you are barely waking up. Rest assured that as soon as we get up in the morning we're going to rub those pigs feet. At least one of us is. We'll let you guess which one will be doing the rubbing and which one will be hiding behind her camera. And a trip to a gigantic French supermarket will be necessary, and if they don't throw us out for taking pictures, we'll show you how many different kinds of yogurt will tempt Chufi into buying them. There's a LOT of yogurt in France.

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Looking forward to this one, and it will be nice to see Lucy again too! You go, ladies!

Edited by Marlene (log)

Marlene

cookskorner

Practice. Do it over. Get it right.

Mostly, I want people to be as happy eating my food as I am cooking it.

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Hmmm. I'm seeing a Canon camera, a lot of wine, and a very wonderful impromtu Tag Team blog (although not really, since our bloggers are in the same location). Sometimes the best is the stuff that isn't planned.

Drink wine for us, ladies, and cook all sorts of things our husbands wouldn't eat!

Susan Fahning aka "snowangel"
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How spontaneous and exciting . . . spare no delicious details!

No teasers, no problem but I'm still going to guess. Are you near Carcassonne?

Peter Gamble aka "Peter the eater"

I just made a cornish game hen with chestnut stuffing. . .

Would you believe a pigeon stuffed with spam? . . .

Would you believe a rat filled with cough drops?

Moe Sizlack

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So, Abra, you've packed it up (and either let go of or rented out your house in Washington) and moved to France for a year. Let us in on how you made your decision, and how different life is in France, please!

Susan Fahning aka "snowangel"
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Although I'm officially sleeping, actually the excitement of having Chufi here and a fridge full of animal parts is keeping me awake. But not awake enough to retell the whole story of how I came to be in France, alas. Despair not, however, those of you who want to chase that rainbow can read all about it here.

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Good morning all! Thank you for the warm welcome. Well, I thought I'd never blog again but here I am, drinking coffee while typing away on Abra's computer.

As some of you may remember from my trip report about our vacation in British Columbia and the Pacific Northwest last year, I met Abra and her husband before. The one thing that was missing from that wonderful visit was lots of time in the kitchen together, cooking and talking about recipes and groceryshopping together. So when Abra decided to pack up and go and live in France for a while, I was booking my plane ticket as soon as possible!

We have been cooking together, the giant French hypermarché is waiting for me, and more cooking (involving animal parts that I would never dare to handle all by myself) will start soon. For now I leave you with a little view of the countryside just outside the village, and ofcourse the obligatory pet shot:

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We just got back from our pigs feet, tripe and freshly killed chicken photoshoot. There are some glamourshots for you to look forward to. But before we get to that (and before we get into pressing questions such as "shall we put the chickenhead into the soup or not?") let me give you an impression of our trip to the hypermarché.

Now you have to understand one thing: Dutch supermarkets suck. They are terrible, tiny, awful stores with very limited selections of anything. So anytime I go to a country with large supermarkets I want to visit them like I would visit a museum, just wandering around and feasting my eyes. Today's Carrefour visit did not disappoint.

This is just a portion of the buttersection:

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And then we got to the yoghurt. I love yoghurt. There is no shortage of yoghurt here:

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Besides yoghurt, we got a bunch of other stuff for tomorrow's dinner. And here I am after my visist, as happy as a Kylie:

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