I’m an old hand at the crepe/galette thing now (tooth sucking noise). After my first attempt at galettes which did not fold like they do in Bretagne I tried another option which is to roll them like cannelloni which suits my more Italian style of cooking (not to mention being). Basically I made the same filling (different dinner guests). It worked. While it was good and looked good, it really does lack that je ne sais quoi that the folded Bretagnese galette with the fried egg had.
But now that I’ve got that mastered I can put the pan away for good. Basta!
God, I don’t know, I can never remember what the hell these are. Cannelloni. Little filled pasta tubes. The Royal Indian Mounted Food Control Police made the pasta just like his nona did back in Italy. Italy, India, whatever, he is very adept at this sort of thing. I made the fillings, beef and spinach, and squash and ricotta. I’ve made this before, well, the beef kind, and it is always a knock out. We had the pizza night people over for dinner and it has to be sorta nice since I am always feeding at their trough and I don’t get that many occasions to reciprocate.
I didn’t really have a butternut cannelloni recipe, but I had a butternut squash so I just winged it. Butternut and Mushroom Cannelloni with Sage Brown Butter Béchamel. Oh. My. God. It was exquisite. The beef was good too, with tomato sauce under it and béchamel on top of it. But that squash. . .
I should write a recipe or better yet, open a restaurant. Oh wait. . .
I have no idea what the name of this place is. It’s just some hotel in Hyéres, off the Place Masillion. A dinky little hotel in a cruddy neighborhood that has a dining room. I have no idea how it survives. I have no idea how we happened to go in there the first time. I have no idea what kind of people would stay there and I can’t imagine what the rooms might be like. The bathroom (for men and women) in the bar is one of the kind that is just a hole in the floor with ceramic foot places. Some people like these and I suppose there is a sort of charm to it.
There are rarely many people eating here, although occasionally there are a few. But they have a nice menu and lovely food. The husband, probably my age but looks 85 serves, and his wife, ditto on the age thing, does everything else. There are a few old drunks at the bar who seem happy to see us in the way drunk people are happy to see other people they hope might sit and drink at the bar with them.
I had the cannelloni as I always do and so did Ashish. It comes with fries. The wife makes it. The ravioli which I had intended on ordering, is from a can, the husband confided in us. Loralyn had the fish.
The wine was awful which is good, it lowers my alcohol consumption. My doctor will be pleased.