Posts Tagged ‘brasserie’

I Want to Vomit

Tuesday, November 29th, 2011

I thought I had experienced the worst possible restaurant meal of my life when I had “Mont St Michel” inspired fish at a tourist restaurant on the aforementioned island. However, it turns out I was wrong, and the worst meal that I would have in my life would, in fact, be today.

Allow me to explain. It is Tuesday which means we have a lady come and change the sheets and towels and do a quick once over with the vacuum. Yes, we are spoilt rich kids. This means we have to leave the apartment when she arrives because 1. there isn’t enough room for all of us and 2. I hate the fact that someone cleans my apartment (although I do enjoy not having to deal with washing my own sheets.) So today she came at lunch time so Tom and I decided to go out for lunch. We went with our friend, Sonia, and headed to a local brasserie that Tom had eaten at before and that he assured me was AWESOME.

Tom had tried to get me to go to this brasserie on numerous previous occasions but my warning lights for “IT’S A BRASSERIE! DO NOT EAT THERE!” had flashed and I had suggested we go somewhere else. Unfortunately the cold weather had gotten to my brain today and I said we could go to this brasserie just as long as Tom swore it was really that good. Yes. Ok, fine.

When we told Sonia (a local Frenchie) that we were going to a brasserie she had a worried look on her face but came along with us like a good sport. From the outside it didn’t look too bad – there were people in there eating and the food looked relatively edible. And so we sat down. There was a set menu of entree/main or main/dessert with a glass of wine or a coffee for 11.50Euros. We ordered and, not really thinking clearly, I ordered ‘La tête de veau’ focussing more on the ‘veau’ (veal) than the ‘tête’. I mainly selected this because the other options were duck (too fatty), or fish with caper sauce (too caper-y.) As we waited for the food, Sonia commented that she had never dared order ‘La tête de veau’, to which I asked why. Because it is the head. Right. Of course it is seeing as ‘tête’ means head and I know that. I’ve known that for years but I presumed it was like many cuts of meat in French – it isn’t what it sounds like. You can also order ‘nuts of veal’ and ‘mouse of lamb’ and they aren’t what you think they are.

Tête de veau

Tête de veau

My dish arrived and I was a little bit concerned by the fact that the entire thing appeared to be fat. Fat with some sort of grey skin attached. Writing this is proving difficult because the more I remember, the more I wish to regurgitate it. I tried to eat as much as I could but it was all fat. As a person who cuts ALL fat off meat before eating it, this wasn’t the wisest choice. The veal was then covered in a ‘sauce’ that was hard boiled egg and onion with some sort of mayonnaise. It was so strong. Thankfully there were two boiled potatoes on the plate so my lunch was reduced to two boiled potatoes.

Tête de veau

The left overs – that's fat. Fat fat fat.

It’s ok, I thought. I’m having dessert. Sonia and I had both ordered the apricot tart and I declared to Tom that apricot tart can never be done wrong. WELL! Apparently it can! To make an apricot tart inedible, all you have to do is cook it for far too long so that the base burns and the insides curdle. It was seriously disgusting.

We then had to wait for our coffees to arrive because they were part of the deal. Sonia gave hers to Tom and I just didn’t drink mine. The only upside was the Valrhona chocolate on the side of the coffee. So for my 11.50 Euros I had two boiled potatoes and a little piece of Valrhona chocolate. And Tom got a lot of dirty looks from two unimpressed girls. Poor Tom.

Je Suis Français!

Tuesday, November 1st, 2011

Meet Adrian.

Adrian the Frenchman

Bonjour.

What can we say about Adrian…? He is French. He is 56 years old. He owns a brasserie in Paris that he works at day and night. He hates anything that isn’t French. He has a moustache.

Adrian

What a moustache!

Adrian is very proud of his nationality and rightly so – France has many good features including good food, good wine, lots of holidays. He took over the brasserie from his father, Jean, who also hated anything that wasn’t French. The brasserie is mostly frequented by old French men who have been going there all their lives, tagging along with their fathers back when they were children. Adrian spends most of his day talking to his clientele, smoking, and wiping the counter.

Whenever tourists accidentally enter his café in search of refreshment, Adrian sighs, rolls his eyes and marches over to the unsuspecting guests. “Eeye do not speek Eenglish,” he will say, hoping they leave. But some will insist on staying, so he will slam a menu down on the table and storm off behind the bar. Adrian’s problem with tourists is that they always want to change something in their order – they are never happy with how a dish is served. They want chips instead of potatoes, or even worse they ask for their steak tartare to be cooked. Cooked! Imagine that! No one understands steak tartare like the French.

Adrian spends a lot of time looking at himself in the reflection on the beer taps. Over the years he has grown an impressive moustache which he likes to keep well defined. Grooming is an important part of the Parisian lifestyle and Adrian always want to look his best. He also likes to wear a beret, highlighting his love for his country. Despite his moustache, Adrian has never married, despite proposing to at least three women and hitting on many more. Perhaps it is his slight lack of height – at just 140cm Adrian is not tall. However, he doesn’t let that get to him. Whenever he sees an attractive female, he makes sure she knows it.

Adrian

He's a short man.

Adrian closes his brasserie for the entire month of August every year and heads south to Nice. He enjoys spending his time by the seaside, looking at the beautiful women and floating lazily in the ocean. Usually his entire family joins him in Nice – he has three brothers, two sisters and nine nieces and nephews. He is the grumpy uncle and the children usually stay away from, avoiding long discussions about the importance of school and how great France is.

Adrian is on sale at my Etsy Store. Take him far, far away from France! He needs to see the world.