Poivrot Farci

Rôti de boeuf en panoufle et ses legumes d’automne. Top round barded in slices of "panoufle", the awesome fatty deposit under a Limousin beef sirloin. Roasted with carrot, leeks and cauliflower. Potatoes boiled with herbes de provence and olive oil. Genuine carnal fragrance.

A school fundraiser (ostensibly to benefit children) at a cheeseburger franchise that celebrates gluttony and heart disease with dad’s greasy picture on the wall, validates masculine reason with a “serious” 8/10oz sandwich (2270 calories with compulsory soda & fries) and whose unlimited-toppings war cry is “BIG IS BETTER”. That’s awesome. Oktoberfest would be an even better venue.

In my browser the alleged rant does not demand a sophisticated palate, nor does it recommend eating offal, sea urchin, goose liver, caviar, sushi or other prejudiced items. It suggests promoting exposure to variety and healthy alternatives to repeatedly eating overly abundant servings of high calorie, higher fat and highly processed foodstuffs. Tolerating and accepting (complacency) unhealthy overweight children and their associated health/social liabilities is irresponsible, particularly for parents who condemning nefarious grown-up vices, drugs, booze, porn, cigarettes, Huffington Post, crime, gambling, violence; insist on peripheral security measures such as helmets, seatbelts, locks, cell phones, warm coats, hats, baby sitters, etc…; encourage betterment that comes from education, reading, art, athletics, culture, discipline, manners and patience while what fuels them physically is too much of a hassle and not worth the tantrum. As for the economics of lean coffers and limited time associated with the apparent burden of raising children; grains, frozen vegetables, necessity inspired curiosity, refrigeration, access to a food forum and boiling water will stretch the dollar. Anyone who feels they are enabling a child’s health decline by perpetuating a regimen that a trusted medical professional, proven science and/or Rev. Michael Pollan would not recommend should feel offended.

20lbs of wholesale cêpes from Corrèze. Early in the season, not quite fragrant, but a remarkable start.

(From airplanefood.net) Luftahnsa 1st class lunch: Medium Rare Saddle of Lamb crusted with Gorgonzola Cheese and Herbs, Vegetables au gratin and Potato Blini.

150 homes’ worth of veritable charcuturie (Gilles Verot; Paris, France). Fromage de tête. The big cheese’s (1997 French head cheese champion) head cheese. 270lbs of it. Hure de porc. Brined pork tongues studded with pistachios. Pressed, cooked in a pork stock, then packed in a spring loaded mold lined with sheets of lard and simmered once more. Beaucoup de boudin noir. Blood sausage. 1st of 2 batches. Blood is much, much thicker than water once supplemented with fatback and onions. 75,000% RDA of iron.

There is a horrible indignity with flying steerage class. Somewhere between being grudgingly coddled with hallow, calloused, court-ordered hands at an institutional daycare and herded with cattle-shaped meat bags at an industrial feedlot, all for just under an insulting price of $1000. No amount of television/movie selections can distract from or relieve the humiliation of feeding time. Paltry, vapid rations befitting and possibly inspired by a refugee camp jail’s infirmary. Sinister airline numbers (space & price) are moving in opposite directions than passengers’ numbers (weight & salary) and we might all benefit from being anesthetized before takeoff and stored like lumber over bedpans. Airline hostesses will then have earned their “flight attendant” re-branding. I crossed Don’s path going the other direction on US Air and when presented the choice of pasta or chicken with rice the decision was swift and deliberate: avoid any protein from the most soulless, mistreated, inferior, environmentally offending animal and any simple starch that even a revered Top Chef contestant can’t get right. The only immediate regret however was not to have followed mother’s enlightened fuga modus operandi and ordered a special kosher/hindu/vegawhatever meal prior; some lesser of all evils sustenance that generally demands an underpaid laborer’s modest amount of special attention and perhaps respite from the drool inducing tedium of feeding us suckers. The hopelessly naïve neighbor was appropriately and predictably disgusted by her choice of “chicken”, though also confused by underwater cities named “Egypt”, “Bismark” and “Lusitania” on the interactive in-flight map. The pasta (cheap penne with some tomato sauce or salsa spilled on it, no cheese) was slightly better than the creepy manicotti imposter at Washington Medical Center. The accompanying salad with it’s single slice of cucumber and two currant sized tomatoes could have been squeezed into a thimble. The chewy (possibly undercooked) cookie bar with Lilliputian chocolate chip was alleged to have been “hand made” and the ingredients list went a step further by indicating that said 1oz. slice of dough was “made with love” as well. Cute. $7 for a shitty beer or plonk however is not. I sincerely hope the executive fat cats from airlines who sanction such airway robbery get syphilis and that their internet stops working when they need it most. “Breakfast” was an affront to the morning ritual, my Danish heritage and Saint Honorius. A limp, doughy something with some shitty pastry cream inside, sealed in a cellophane bag and tossed to me on a napkin like I was some fucking seal with opposable thumbs, manners and a sweet tooth. Coffee would come much, much later. I sincerely hope the executive fat cats from airlines who sanction such food practices get staph infections on their genitals and that their houses burn down. I seem to recall a time when being a passenger commanded respect and dressing up to fly didn’t mean dressing down to something with an elastic waistband and flip-flops. I remember getting starched on free wine and booze, a suitable portion of stuffed breaded chicken breast for dinner, metal utensils, a less austere salad and a bona fide breakfast in the morning. On a tray. With simple bread. And butter. Or jam! With a cup of orange juice. And a small cup for my coffee. Now I suffer the shame of paying much more for much less. As for smuggling sundries back, leave with roomy collapsible luggage and check it like any other civilized passenger (1st bag is free on international flights). The extra 20 minutes spent at the carousel will not be in vain and others’ flight doesn’t start and end with an ass in their face while impatient rubes struggle to cram “object A” into smaller “space B”.

There is nothing exciting about generic, grain finished beef. Every commercial steer at some point in their life has eaten some form of grass and what matters most (flavor, nutrition, environment, consciousness) is the manner in which it was finished during the months prior to slaughter. The industry feed-lot standard is to artificially fatten up cattle on grain which quickens the finishing process making the meat tender faster, thereupon cheaper to bring to market while lowering the nutritional content and mutating a luxury splurge into a cheap commodity. Ruminants are not designed to eat corn or other grains. Fully pastured (grass finished), humanely slaughtered beef is worth whatever excitement and premium copious amounts of meat can elicit.

Childhood acquaintance of mine (7 or 8 yrs old at the time) had half her scalp torn off when inexplicably attacked by an otherwise, up until then, friendly, family dog at a neighborhood picnic. Perhaps the dog never saw a child with such vibrant, curly red hair or she had inadvertently startled the food focused creature. No one knows, but the consensus was that she did nothing to intentionally provoke it. If she ever comes to visit and has not come to terms with her unfortunate, unpredictable accident, I’ll look for a restaurant that caters to her decidedly irrational and exceptional anxiety (one which prohibits contemporary misanthropes who consciously bring dogs capable of biting to dining venues) or one where the outdoor tables are firmly secured to the sidewalk so that a dog doesn’t suddenly disturb a table when surging happily towards another dog on the patio, breaking glasses and plates, like at a restaurant patio in Cleveland Park a month ago. According to dog bite statistics, tethered dogs are 2.8 times more likely to bite than unchained dogs, though adults only make up 40% of the 4.8 million people bitten by dogs each year. Curiously, muzzles have not been mentioned in this thread and would likely be a reasonable compromise. CDC doesn’t have hyperbolic corkage or substitution statistics readily available.

“Melon style” lamb shoulder. Deboned, barded, trussed and gently roasted. A square meal deal. Fatback fever. Sheeping Beauty’s bed was never so comfortable. Roast boast.

Cucmber relative cucumis anguria (anguria = watermelon) as opposed to cucumis sativa. Fresh pickle with white wine vinegar, water, salt, black pepper, mustard seed, coriander, dill flowers, contact lense, chili, garlic.

Sour Mexican gherkins from the community sharecropping garden . Not exactly a cucumber, but pickled as a diminutive one. Planet of the Grapes. Itty bitty pickle tickle.

In the spirit of accountability and satisfaction I generally recommend a Pepsi taste test of said products or an endorsed gustatory reference before committing, though as long as prospecting demand does not exceed the modest supply I am pleased to accommodate with confidence. Pâté en croûte is limited to one 2lb piece for this exploratory occasion and wild salmon prices are quite dear this year; anything more than 1lb may necessitate a thriftier sockeye, lest I be burdened with a personal bagel deficit. However, additional green sausage, boudin and agnolotti can be fabricated with enough generous notice (2-3 days).

The 3rd DC Grey Farmers Market will be held on Sunday, July 17th from 1pm-5pm at the North Liberty Community Market (5th & I NW, near Kushi and Busboys & Poets). There is a $2 entrance fee and a waiver to sign since some of the vendors are not exactly licensed. Mostly prepared foods (pastries) and some raw meats from White House Meats, but not much in the way of produce. I will be selling my traditional wares under the nom de plume Worthwhile Meat & Provisions: Leafy Greens Sausage $8/lb (8 oz 16 oz portions; raw, vacuum sealed) Fresh pork sausage with kale, turnip and mustard greens. Boudin Blanc d’Avranches $8/lb (8 oz and 16 oz portions; cooked, vacuum sealed) Cooked, emulsified sausage made from poultry, onions, butter and bread. Pâté en Croûte $16/lb (4 or 6 oz portions, vacuum sealed) Pork, pork tongue, ham, fatback, currant and pistachio pâté in a savory pastry crust. Smoked Salmon $12/lb (4 oz portions; vacuum sealed) King salmon cured with fennel seed, dill, lemon, salt and turbinado. Smoked then handsomely sliced. Cauliflower Agnolotti$12/lb (1/2 oz each; fresh pasta) Cauliflower-Mornay filled egg pasta.

Galantine de Volaille: Edition Spéciale “ma sœur me manque; diagrammes de Venn par l'intermédiaire de « Joie de Vivre », de Robert Delaunay”. Chicken Galantine: Special “I miss my sister; Venn diagrams channeled through Robert Delaunay’s “Joie de Vivre” edition”. Chicken opus stuffed with fig, pistachio, fatback and foie & truffle mousse. Coated in chaud-froid, covered with peppers and shellacked with clear aspic. Golden booties. Garnish of fluted mushrooms, whittled turnips, carrots and glazed radishes. Stanley Kubrick's Bird-Day Afternoon. Gestation study. Fowl bondage. Dr. Pepper will see you now. Its what's inside that counts.

Saucisses vertes Mustard greens sausages. Pâté en croûte, special anniversary edition. Extended family (cured shoulder, pistachios, fat back, currants, tongue). Rehearsal. Cutting the cake.

Pâté en Croûte Richelieu Special At-Large 2.0 DC Heraldry Edition. The donated endeavor (no internal footage, though with a pork tenderloin inlay) failed to sway enough votes but allegedly swooned attentive eyes and registered palates. In hindsight, sort of looks like Stewie, or Johnny #5. ...or a district boom-box. Flavor candidates: Stately savory. Red #40 alive.

Soirée Germinal Germinal evening. Dinner for 7 celebrating spring and friends' fertility. An elegant commissioned menu, (typos cheerfully overlooked). Gravlax-oology Zen sliced panela cured sockeye salmon, some spears of manicured asparagus and eggs “Evelyn”. Aïgo sau d’iou A clearly spring garlic soup with bits of chicken and a nicely poached egg. Crown rack of lamb “Mazarine” Nestled among artichokes stuffed with spring flavors, fragrant brown rice and a few handsomely fluted mushrooms. Cheese Mt. Tam, Red Hawk, Ossau-Iraty. Frangipane tart With a smattering of pistachios and turbinado sugar. Manicured asparagus. Egg pageantry. Gravlax-oology. Mind the bones. Crowning achievement. Crown jewels. Frangipane.

Pâté en croûte pendaison de crémaillère, Édition spéciale imposte. Housewarming pâté en croûte, special transom edition. Definitive "home made". Pistachios, pig's tongue, dried figs, pork shoulder, fatback, pig's heart. New house party coordinates. . Feng Shwine interior.

5 scented ham. Shrimp stuffed bream "Bellevue" à la mode de Crècy. Pâté en croûte special mini edition. Poultry pâté pantin, special District of Columbia heraldry edition. Peach & rosemary frangipane tarts. Pâté en croûte special picnic edition. Mt Pleasant habanero & serano sambal, special 2.0 edition.

Nordic Opus. Salute to the original seafaring pilgrims. Pear-wine glögg, salt cured salmon, pickled herring, liver & anchovy pâté, pickles, rye bread, akvavit, cod’s head soup, Jansson’s Temptation, turkey frikadeller with Brussels sprouts, golden beets and cranberries, roasted breast with prunes and apples, barley stuffing, cheese, æbleskiver and rice pudding. Heritage Bird Pickled radishes, pickled herring, aquavit, liver & anchovy pâté, 1 and 2 day salt cured sockeye salmon Higher latitude study of getting pickled: Purple cauliflower, cheddar broccoli, romanesco, Krogstad Aquavit (Portland, Oregon) in ice with clippings of neighbor’s shrubbery. Turkey leg frikadeller with golden beets and cranberries. B-sprouts to follow. Roasted breast with prunes and apples Æbleskiver (to be dipped in chestnut honey and/or quince jelly)

Timbale de poussin aux saveurs de fin d’été. Cornish hen timbale (essentially a husky, savory Rolo) with a summer’s swan song of sweet corn and tomato ragout filling; from the crumpled files of hopelessly dated French cookery. In lieu of elusive metal timbales, small canning jars were used. Up yours, Ruhlman. Hot tub time machine. Cubist hen breasts. Journey to the center of the girth.

Gosling's Rumpkin. Mulled rum cider from the tap. Heraldry lantern Gourd Marnier. Mulled Grand Marnier cider in there.

Labor Day fig pâte de fruit en croûte How I roll Sweet Sarcophagus Port holes Wedding dinner's caboose.

In the flavor of "Ciel mon mari! Sky, my husband!" Restaurant Chanteclerc proposes a deliciously romantic marvel of distinctively literal menu wordsmith failure. Restaurant Chanteclerc menu. -half way down (demi chemin en bas) Salade de crottin de chévre chaud lardée Salad of dung of warm goat larded Carpaccio de saumon fumé aux billes roses Carpaccio of salmon smoked in the pink balls Tartare de boeuf et frites maison Tartar of beef and fried house Côe de boeuf grilleé Grilled official list of ox... Crème Brulée Brulée cream