A rather bullish acquaintance of my grandmother’s once lectured me on the quality of French food. I had expressed my personal preference to the French cuisine over the English and she had told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was wrong. Indeed this overbearing soul spent a good half an hour telling me that the French just had good sauces to cover up the poor quality of their meat. As a young and impressionable girl, I assumed that this aged female must be right – the older the wiser and all.
Now, however, I must finally take a stand. A decade on, I must take the bull by the horns (and I don’t mean the animal) and tell her, that it is she, not me, that is wrong. Why now? you ask. Because last night I had the most exceptionally delicious dish of French meat, far superior to anything that I have manged in England, and it had, wait for it, NO sauce. Indeed, it was perfectly sauceless…
As you can probably tell, it was in the words of Pete S “ruddy good”, and placed us firmly in the realms of foodie ecstasy. So good, indeed, it was, that I had no choice but to write, in true English style, a firmly worded letter to make my point. Well in my head, I don’t think I could send one? The elder may not be the wiser, but they still deserve respect.
So with my hypothetical letter penned, and my thoughts firmly on the high quality of French food, I thought I’d share with you some snaps of some of my favourite dishes over the last fortnight. Dishes which, far supersede, the average meal out back over the channel. So without further ado, I present to you, French Food – the album.
And one more, just for good measure, of the bovine ambrosia: