[Pink Pig Time Machine: September 20, 2016]
Dinner that first night? One of the veteran regional restaurants which allow Parisians to take a virtual journey to one of the country's many bread baskets: L'Ambassade d'Auvergne. Forty years old then, fifty this year, and still going strong.
There is no serious alternative to ordering the classic dishes on the menu. Here's my take on it from 2006:
I had always wanted to visit L'Ambassade d'Auvergne, as much for the kitschy name as anything. It's located in a large terrace house at the top of the Marais - the exterior reminded me slightly of Babbo. It is indeed something of a theme restaurant, with theatrical service, even though the clientele comprises many locals. The menu was disappointingly short. It was easy enough to order the cochonailles to start, but then I wanted something vaguely regional, and didn't much fancy duck with aligot. So I ended up ordering another sausage.
A few complimentary bites arrive, and I liked a thin-sliced savory gateau with lardons - very like the bacon biscuit sold at the Hungarian deli on the Upper East Side. The pork plate featured good saucisse seche, very avergae jambon cru, and boudin noir in the French style, which I've never seen in the States: a smooth, cold, sliced sausage, about three or four inches in diameter, brown/black in color, with chunks of white fat. The waiter swung by to offer me more jambon, but I asked for boudin instead, and received another plateful from the kitchen.
The hot sausage was sort of irrelevant after that: a large, ordinary, hot pork sausage. The aligot, spooned from copper pots with unnecessary glee, was garlicky and perfectly okay, although I didn't need second helpings. Cheese to follow, all taken with an inexpensive Cahors.
The main memory at this distance is indeed the aligot, absurdly stringy and delicious--even if I needed more room for it. Where tomorrow?
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