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Veal Scallops, stuffed with white mushrooms and onions, in a
green olive-beef broth reduction, served with tomato Quinoa
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This is what we ate for lunch on Sunday. We tend to indulge on Sundays when we have
more time to spend together. Even after
a terribly satisfying meal like this, we often ask each other, “What dessert
would you serve after this?” Or, to take
the rather French approach, “What cheese should follow?”
It’s not that we walk away from the table hungry; in fact,
the contrary. We tend to eat light or
very little for Sunday dinner because of the copious lunch we consumed. The questions are hypothetical; there is no
next course, but we ask them each Sunday all the same.
We laugh at ourselves with these questions, and Christophe
thinks it’s a very French thing. He
claims if the French aren’t cooking or eating, they’re talking about food. Nothing is more exciting than the next meal nor
more nostalgic than the last one, well prepared that is. He believed talking about food was just a French
thing; that is, until he meet my family.
We might not discuss the values of a medium aged goat cheese, but we
know that a piece of chocolate chip pie just might put the topper on that
dinner we just had. And, who can forget
that awesome roast we had for someone’s birthday or how good the pizza was at
the Wii bowling party last year? Talking
about food, even when sitting in front of well-licked plate, is not unique to a
singular culture; everyone does it. (Elsewhere,
I image someone suggesting churros after those tacos or a good gelato after the
pasta meal.) Maybe it’s because we dream of that perfect dinner, or secretly want
to be a 4 star rated chef who simply oozes with good taste and knowhow, but
talking about food or “what’s next” seems to be as natural as putting shoes on
in the morning. We do it because, that’s all.
So, to answer this week’s questions, I replied, “a young Cantal
and for dessert a poached Bosc pear with dark chocolate sauce”. Christophe smiled. Apparently, he agreed.
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