Pas plus. (That's French for no more.)
My ravishing daughter-in-law, Jeni, and I celebrated Bastille Day (neither one of us is French, but we didn't care) with a traditional French cooking class at Tanglewood Berry Farm in Fort Wayne.
Chef Christian Frappier prepared stuffed mushrooms with snail butter. The butter didn't contain snails; it gets its name because it's used to flavor cooked snails. Quel soulagement! (Basically translated as, Whew!)
The main course was chicken in a savory, decadent sauce...
...and Crepes Suzettes, which I discovered aren't thin layers of eggs but the thinnest of pancakes flavored with orange zest...
The casually arranged bouquets exuded a simple elegance.
Free-range chickens and a rooster -- who'd just discovered his cock-a-doodle-doo and had his days and nights confused -- roamed the farm, including the edges of the tent where we ate.
And then there was Leonardo, the 135-pound Maremma. He began the evening guarding the entrance to the farm, but crept closer and closer to the tent once Chef Christian began the meat course.
Then, after dessert, dove into full mingle-with-the-guests mode.
Leo made a bee-line for Chef Christian after dinner because Chef always saves a piece of meat for him! |
Me and Margy Hooker |
Alors faites-le (So do it!)
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