A diverse offering twixt the interesting, the unusual, and the amusing.
Friday, 7 June 2013
Certain French Restaurants; THE SAD TRUTH.
Yesterday evening I visited a nearby restaurant after a much heralded (and welcomed) change of ownership. Let me describe to you what I ate.
I chose from the more expensive €28 menu, and was served packet soup, frozen fish fillets, badly cooked duck, a tiny slice of goat cheese, and a bizarre version of a tarte tatin.
The soup was brought to the table in soup bowls rather than a tureen, and was without question directly out of a Knorr dried soup packet. I have no idea what flavour it was supposed to be, but it was gloopy and dreadful.
For my entrée I went for the rouget; three tiny fillets of de-frosted red mullet served on a bed of unidentifiable nonsense.
I chose the magret de canard for my main course. I love all things 'duck', but what on earth this 'chef' had done to it, I cannot imagine. It was dry, tasteless, and chewy.
Then came a tiny sliver of goat's cheese surrounded by 3 dots of honey (need I say more!).
And finally the tarte tatin (I happen to be a tarte tatin aficionado). This was so unlike a tarte tatin that they could almost have been sued under the 'trade's description act' (had they been in the UK). It was served with some pale brown sugary sauce; truly bizarre.
So what WAS good about the meal? Well, the bread was excellent (the restaurant is in the small village where I buy my own bread), our 3 bottles of wine were good, and the waitress was cheery.
If French restaurateurs think they can get away with such poor quality cooking (and an awful lot do) then they've got a big shock coming. Locals would certainly never eat there, and they should be made to understand that foreign tourists are not fools.
40 years ago, when I first came to live in France, wonderful restaurants were simply EVERYWHERE. Now I struggle to find more than one or two. Sitting back on past laurels is no longer an option for the French.
We went with friends to the Scallop festival in Whitianga; a charming
seaside town in the Coromandal District.
Had a great time...5000 people, lots of wine...
3 years ago
The difference between an optimist and a pessimist, is that the optimist enjoys himself whilst waiting for the inevitable! I AM that optimist!
This is a daily, optimistic, 'photos and comments' blog. I make no judgements (only occasionally), just notes. If you wish to comment in any way at all, please feel free. Everything and everyone is very welcome.
I was born just south of London, but for the past 44 years I've lived in S W France. I am a painter by profession, and writer by desire. Lady Magnon and I live in an ancient cottage, in a tiny village, in perfectly tranquil countryside. We have a vegetable garden called 'Haddock's' (this may crop up from time to time), a Border Collie/Black Lab' cross called Bok, a cat called Freddie, plenty of fruit trees, and a view that takes the breath away. I try to treat our planet with respect, and encourage others to do likewise (without preaching).
Contentment is a glass of red, a plate of charcuterie, and a slice of good country bread. Perfect!