The Grand Tour, phase 1a, Prune

If you haven’t read Bones. Blood and Butter you should. Better yet listen to it. It is narrated by the writer Gabrielle Hamilton and is wonderfully lovely in every way. And if you haven’t eaten at Prune, no biggie. I say, read the book, eat in Chinatown.

Not that it was bad. It was pretty good but not as good as the hype. It was nice when Gabrielle Hamilton herself drifted through. I hadn’t expected to see her but I was engaged in a conversation with our waitress and unable to waylay Gabrielle and force her into a conversation about her book and perhaps our, you know, common experience as restaurant owners.

In any event, the appetizer, a vaguely asianish celery salad with a lot of sliced green onions accompanied by a piece to toast with a slab of Cambozola on it was good. The veal breast…meh.

But at least I can say I ate there. Then I was up most of the night trying to get the taste of the onions out of my mouth. Short of eating a tube of toothpaste there appears to be nothing to be done about it.

St Marcellin

This cheese comes from somewhere down near Hyeres. They serve it as dessert cheese in every restaurant in Provence. It comes in a cute little ceramic pot. Last Sunday afternoon, Loralyn and I got several kinds of cheese and slam dunked the St Marcellin and most of the cambozola. 

I nearly passed out from the smell of the St Marcellin, but it was utterly delicious.

To be honest. I ate most of the St Marcellin. She eats like a bird.

Morning crepes

This morning Ashish made crepes. One can imagine that a man who has (just guessing here) upwards of 20 copper pots and pans would also have a batter bowl (actually 2), an actual crepe pan and one of those little wooden crepe flattenizers and one would imagine correctly. The crepes were perfectly made (and I should know because last spring Karen and I took an utterly boring crepe-making class) and he filled them with nectarines that he sauteed with a very little sugar. I had mine with the leftover cambozola cheese and a glass of the gazpacho juice, it was an amazing breakfast. Three Zs in that sentence even if I had to make it a run-on sentence to accommodate that idea.

Oh, and there’s a shot of his copper pots in case you didn’t believe me.