[Pink Pig Time Machine: April 16, 2012]
Turning these pages from ten years ago certainly gives a sense of the arc of time when it comes to dining. Only last month, I review La Quenelle, the restaurant at which chef Cyril Renaud is re-creating some signature dishes from his Fleur De Sel menu.
Is it really ten years ago this week that I was eating those dishes at the original venue?
Over here a suckling pig and foie terrine; over there, seared scallops in a sweet balsamic dressing. Over here, pompano with mushrooms; over there, sea bass in a Boulud-ish potato crust. Over here, the rack of lamb; over there, the veal tenderloin with black truffles. A warm chocolate cake was shared for dessert.
Trimbach Gewürtztraminer and an 1988 Chateau Simard accompanied the meal.
And then, the same night, my bronchii started acting up. Medical science remains puzzled, but for many years I've greeted the changing seasons with a form of bronchial inflammation which seems best treated as an allergy. Not every year -- not this year, touch wood -- but often enough.
It laid me up for the next couple of days, although I did manage a little supper of Polish black sausage, fried apples and truffled potatoes the night after Fleur de Sel. A couple of day later, I was well enough to cook the French country classic of chicken stuffed with garlic cloves (although I'm sure I fell short of the traditional forty cloves).
Some new paintings by Jane Freilicher at Tibor de Nagy -- another thing I still look out, for ten years on. And some spaghetti with a shad roe sauce to finish the week.
Next time: Alison on Dominick, and back to London.
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