Spring Break! WOOOOO

Time flies, doesn't it?

This Saturday, I will fly back to the sunny climes of Southern California, to absorb sun and companionship. Never fear, however, dear readers: I have these exciting items on my itinerary!
Restaurants:
-Excellent dim sum place
-Excellent HK style cafe
-Sushi!
-Fish taco place!
-Chez Panisse (WOO WOO)

And also, less we forget that I also love to cook, I will be working on the following culinary projects:
-Building my own smoker
-Making a paella on the beach (twice!)
-Grilling outdoors! Like a man!

Some thoughts on dining and companionship

Overall, I would say I approve of Europe. It was a lot of fun; I saw incredible places, tasted excellent food, but most importantly I shared incredible experiences with two good friends. That is what I wanted to talk about in this post: not what was the best part of Europe culinarily, but rather some thoughts on what makes food good.

All the best food in the world means nothing if you do not enjoy the people with whom you are eating. In Europe, I had the fortune of dining with two old friends with whom I have shared many meals. Even with them though, I always felt myself wishing that (and still do, when eating a great meal) some other people could join me- my friends from home, my parents or others. I would always prefer to have a take-out burger with a good friend than Alinea alone.

That is why I am looking forward to Spring Break- catching up with old friends. The rest, as they say, is gravy.

Europe: Denmark

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NOTE: This is part of an ongoing series of articles concerning my Europe trip. See below for links to the previous articles:

Overview

Barcelona

More Barcelona

Zaragoza: Part 1

Zaragoza: Part 2 (Tapas!)

Zaragoza: Videos

San Sebastian (Pinxtos)

Pays Basque: Part 1

Pays Basque: Part 2

Bordeaux

Berlin

Denmark

****************

And thus we left the Germanic confines of Berlin and hit the rails for the 7 hour ride over to Copenhagen, for the last stop on our pan European tour. It was a bit bittersweet, getting onto my last European train, knowing that my Eurail pass had served its purpose. However, I was defintely ready to go home; I was tired, smelly and pretty full.

However, the poignancy of the moment was shoved aside when I opened up sack containing the bagel I had bought before I departed in Berlin. I know what you may be thinking. That bagel? In a food blog? Was it really that good?

Yes.

Let me explain about this bagel sandwich. It was a wheat bagel with brie, arugula and cherry jam. Was it amazingly good? Yes. Yes it was. The brie was really good brie, the bagel had great chew, it was everything I wanted.

Dinner wasn't bad either. I do love a good lamb shank, and the one above, while unbelievably expensive, was what I wanted after a long day of travel. It was served in a sauce that was really, quite good. Probably better than the shank, honestly. I was a tidge disappointed when I pulled some of the meat off and the bone popped right out: I prefer to gnaw on them, much like a cavemen. It gets me in touch with my primitive, ape-like self.

Never one to pass up desert, I could not resist ordering the desert tapas platter. I think it was meant to be shared. I did not share. I wrote down everything, so here is a bulleted list:

• Panna cotta
• Chocolate fudge cake
• Creme caramel
• Chocolate Mousse
• "chocolate ball"
  
• Cookie (I kid you not; this is what it said under the description)
• Passion fruit sorbet
• A selection of mousses (in the middle)

Honestly, most of the stuff was emminently forgettable. The standouts were the passion fruit sorbet, which was perfect. It was incredibly fruity and smooth, and just had the tiniest ice granules that gave it character.

Above, you can see the selection of mousses which inhabited the center of the plate. They were OK.

All in all, I will be honest: Copenhagen's restaurants did not thrill me. I thought the food was overpriced and the quality mediocre at best. The same, however, could not be said for their bakeries. While expensive, the gooey, creamy and chocolately pastries they served up are among the best I have ever had.

Also, the bakeries are adorned with golden pretzels.

This was a custard croissant. Nothing special, but really good. It was merely a decoy for the real star..

...The cranberry muffin. Oh. My. God. Best muffin I have EVER had. Ever ever. The cranberries were tart, the top crispy and the middle was SO gooey. I think you can see it a little bit in the photo above. This muffin was an epiphany.

That day, we took a 15 minute rail trip to a small, typically Danish town called Roskilde, which holds the distinction of being the burial site of the Danish royal family as well as having one of the best museums I have ever been to: the Viking Ship Museum.

Also, they had a penchant for filling chocolate balls with creme.

See? I said they did!

After walking to the museum, we were awed by the ships. Not only do they have the remains of 5 ancient ships which sunk off the coast, they also have an ACTIVE VIKING SHIPYARD. They made a ship which they sailed around Ireland. In addition to that one, they have a large variety of smaller ships on which they take school children for daylong jaunts.

Kyle had been raving about the street hot dogs of Denmark for a long time; in Roskilde we sampled one for lunch. It was good, but the lack of a table made eating it, with its variety of toppings, quite challenging. However, it was a very good hot dog. Not the best, but good. It had a really great casing, which just "popped" with every bite.

This was a pastry. I honestly don't remember anything about it.

The next day we went to Carlsberg breweries for a tour. At the end, we found a completely empty tasting room. The two extremely kind bartenders plied with an amazing array of beers- my two companions sampled at least 10 types each. I was saving room for lunch, which we thought would be smorbrod; the open faced sandwiches which are Denmark's main culinary distinction.

Unfortunately, the place where we wanted to go was competely booked, and we had to settle for another place. I got a meatball smorsbrod and a beef tartar smorsbrod; they were OK. Honestly, I wasn't thrilled.

However, it was all worth it for that night. I had long been craving a "street waffle"- my term for a waffle from the street vendors of Europe. Something about their batter made these waffles unlike anything I have had in the states. The batter produced thick, meaty waffles. And the outsides almost tasted like there was caramelized sugar there.

So on my last night, Kyle and I walked up to a waffle vendor. I ordered a nutella and banana waffle. He started to prepare one that was already made. I interrrupted him, and asked for him to make one special. He hesitated, but under my insistent eyes made one.

Delicious.

And thus, I left Europe.

Europe: Berlin, Germany

I was a little sad to leave Bordeaux. Germany would have a distinctive new culture, new langugage and all the trouble asociated with going to a new country.

It was so totally worth it however. Berlin is still comparatively cheap, and has some of the best food in Europe.

Yes, that's right: Berlin had the best food, on the whole, of anywhere I went in Europe.

Anyway, on to my trip:

After a very long train trip we arrived in Berlin. We disembarked on the Waschaerstrasse, which is one of the main streets in Berlin and the location of our Hostel, which was one of the bet in which we stayed on the trip. It is a testament to Berlin that the pastries which I bought at a street stand outside the train station were some of the best I have ever had.

We walked to our Hostel, dropped of our stuff, and decided we really weren't quite ready to go to bed, even though it was about midnight. So, considerably lightened, we left the hostel and pursued that whily temptress know as adventure.

We walked around our neighborhood and then stopped at a Pizza place.Pizza and beer? What better. I knew Germany had the best bier, but I didn't know about the pizza. I had good feelings though.

Tyrone and Kyle helped themselves to two icy cold beers from the cooler, which they cracked open on the bottle opener on the bar. They then slouched, happy and flushed with warmth and the promise of a good beer, towards the table, where I had seated myself after ordering two pizzas.

Our first was a pizza with arugula, prosciutto and fresh tomatoes. It was a really good tavern style pizza- stiff and crunchy crust, with good flavor. Even though it was a random pizza place in Berlin at midnight, it was one of the best pies I have ever had.

You can see from the second one (mushroom and pepperoni) that the crust was spectacular. Also, it was in a good hot oven, so the cheese and other toppings got good and crisp. Together it was a superb meal, an incredible welcome to the wonders of Berlin.

This was a rumkogel; I bought it on a bakery cart one the way out of the train station. It was about 2 inches in diameter, and squishy and dense. It tasted of rum and wonderfulness. It was a wonderful nightcap.

We woke up to face a day full of promise. We left our hostel, the sign for which you can see above, to wander into town. Our plan for the day was to walk the 1.5 miles into town, and from there tour the beauty of Berlin. But first, sustenance!

We walked into a delightful bakery, with, as you can see, a...plentiful selection of Ritter bars.

While I pondered my breakfast, I ordered a latte.

In Berlin, to my delight, they served all the lattes in tall clear glasses, which showcases the beautiful layering of a latte. I am also very happy to report that the barristas of the town could pull a very proper shot of espresso, as could every city in Europe.

For my breakfast, I selected a delightful spinach burek. A burek is an open-faced pastry, generally fried or baked, which can contain any number of things. Mine contained spinach and cheese. It was OK- not the best burek I have ever had, but it was fine. It lacked an overall flavor; the filling lacked a decisive punch that really makes or breaks ones burek experience.

Kyle and Tyrone went off together, walking quickly, while I opted for a more sedate walk into the center of town. As is my wont, I stopped by a small bakery and got some butter cake. It was everything I wanted from a German pastry and more. It was large and hearty; covered with delicious crumbly morsels of pastry and butter, which had soaked into the top. Down below the pastry was hearty and tough. This pastry was of the kind that make men large and blond; it sets you up for a serious day, during which you will invade Poland and, eh, why the hell not, continue into Russia.

One of the most endearing thing about Berlin- besides its prices, that is- are the colored bears that ornament the fronts of the larger stores. I am not really sure about the origin of this. A search on the internet shows it has something to do with "buddy bears"? I will let my intrepid and more interested readers delve into the mysteries.

Another endearing thing-you know, besides the huge beer bottles everywhere- was that they had lots of small "smart cars" advertising stuff. Mostly beer.

Tyrone liked to sit on the laps of statues. I have a picture of him riding a large iron turtle in Bordeaux. I hope he one days runs for public office so I can flood the internets with these pictures.

As teenage boys, we deeply appreciate cheap, large bottles of beer. Here, Tyrone and Kyle show their gratitude, as well as the overall sense of goodwill towards men that Berlin inspires.

It is an infectious feeling. The food is cheap, good and ample. There is tons to do and see. Our hostel was comfortable, and we had not killed each other yet. Berlin was by far my favorite city.

For lunch, had decided to go to a certain restaurant. We searched and searched and search, to no avail. We decided to go to the above: The Berliner Republic. We later found out this was the restaurant, but it had changed its name.

Despite other, more delicious sounding options, I went for the blood and liver sausage with potatoes and saurkraut. It was just fine- the only problem was that the sausages lacked that "OOMPH" that I do love. Their were definitely more subtle than I had been expecting, let me say that. I guess it is less that they were bad than that they let me down. The same could not be said for the entree chosen by Kyle and Tyrone: the Honorable Goering.

A thick length of delicious, smoky heart sausage laid on top of a bed of potatoes and saurkraut; the entirety covered in a beer sauce. It was really flavorful, and it just said, "Welcome to Berlin. We do not mess around with wurst." The sauce was rich, the saurkraut flavorful, and the sausage as big as a man.

However, no meal in Berlin could match that of Pasternak, a Russian restaurant in the Northern sector of Berlin. On a dark and snowy night, we trudged through the snow to the restaurant.

From the outside, it looked neat and tidy. On on side, the name of the retaurant was in Cyrillic lettering.

I walked in to find a beautiful relic of 1950's Russian Berlin. Vested waiters walked around, carrying towels over arms, while ladies and gentleman in furs talked quietly. Over the entirety, a live piano player traced out twinkling melodies. The overall sensual experience of the restaurant seduced me before I had even seated myself.

Upon seating, we were immediately served a small amuse bouche of salmon with creme, with a small dollop of persimmon chutney.

I perused the menu, and the decided on three delicious courses. Little did I know that they would be some of the best of the Europe trip.

I started out by sharing a blini platter with Kyle. It had, as you can see, four types: spinach, chicken, pork and smoked salmon. In every case, Pasternak's commitment to quality showed. The blini was fresh and hot; the filling had obviously been wrapped in the blini to order. The entire platter (which was at least 18 inches to a side) was strewn with persimmons and cloud berries. In the middle there was some creme fraiche, and another sauce that tasted strongly of ginger.

The salmon was a favorite of mine- it was really high quality salmon, and I added a dollop of creme fraiche to just make it perfect. In the other blini they used a heartier dough, but in this one they used a more subtle one, probably to allow the smoky flavor of the salmon to stand out.

The spinach blini were really good as well. Creamy, delicious spinach. I topped it with the ginger chutney.

For the next course, the process of ordering was as enjoyable as the dish. After I ordered the blini, I asked the waiter which he would reccomend of two dishes. "Well", he asked, "Do you HUNGER?", while clenching his fist and moving it upward. I answered that I was quite hungry. "The Skaroje" he answered, "It will fill the belly of even the most ravenous". I took his word, and was not disappointed.

The skaroje was essentially a hunters stew with winter vegetables; eggplants and potaotes mingled in a hearty stew with lamb, potatoes and eggplant, all baked under a dough "cap". When the dish came, the waiter popped it off expertly and served the stew inside, much like a bread bowl.

You can see above how the top of the stew served as a bread bowl for the steaming hot and hearty stew.

For desert, I had a delectable blini with almond paste inside and hot cherries on top. As you can see, it was also served with an ample assortment of persimmon and kiwi.

This was one of the best blini I have ever had- the blini itself was hot and crisp, while the inside was delectably flavorful. The entire mess was topped with great cherries, which just cemented the desert together.

You can see its innate deliciousness above. That is almond paste coming out of the inside.

Pasternak was, I think, my favorite restaurant of the trip. The ambiance, of the elegantly dressed waiters, cyrillic lettering and delicious food transported me back in time and place, to the Russian sector in the Cold War. It was amazing. So amazing, in fact, that we came back the next morning for breakfast.

We were glad we did.

I ordered the "assorted cheese platter" and a latte. As was standard in Berlin, the latte came in a clear glass, so one could see the beautiful dichotomy between the esperesso and the steamed milk. My platter came with a bread basket, which included croissant, dark and light bread and butter and honey. The meal itself hadn't even arrived!

The bread was all delicious; I got a refill because Kyle and Tyrone kept stealing it!

Then my main course came. Starting closest, we have some creme fraiche. Working counter-clockwise, we have sirniki (fried cheese curds), munester cheese (sliced) which is concealing some cheese blintzs. Off to the right is the ubiquitous persimmon, kiwi and cloudberries which seem to accompoany all entrees at Pasternak. The fruit was delicious. In the middle of the platter are some of the creamiest, lightest most delicious scrambled eggs I have ever had.

This entire platter was incredible. The most delicious part was the eggs, once I had folded in some of the muenster. However, the fried cheese curds (at the 3 o'clock position above) were a novel new sensation. Topped with some of Pasternak's home made jam, they were superb.

However, Pasternak had some formidable competition from the next nights dinner, at Marjellchen: a silesian restaurant. I must say, with all honesty, Berlin had some of the best food of the trip. Both of these restaurants were extremely affordable and incredibly delicious.

At Marjellchen, we plopped ourselves down in an elaborately old world dining room, presided over by the formidable owner. When I asked for help between two entrees, she unhesitantly recomended the above: Masurain jugged game. It was another hunters stew, this time containing hearty cuts of stag and boar. It was also served with potato dumplings, cabbage (on a seperate plate) and a cranberry sauce. It really stuck to my ribs, but I managed to finish it..and desert!

For desert, I got the dumpling platter. As you can see, it was the best part of ridiculous. Starting at the bottom and working clockwise, we have an apple dumpling, chocolate cake with whipped cream, blancmange, a poppyseed dumpling and home made vanilla ice cream. In the center was cherries.

And with that wonderful desert, I boarded the train to Denmark. Stay tuned, avid reader!

Musings from my brainpan: Dumplings

A few weeks ago, while on a jog, I was contemplating dumplings. That's not an unusual occurrence for me- I frequently listen to NPR's fantastic show "The Splendid Table" while jogging, which naturally makes me think about all things culinary. However, this was a topic that had weighed on my mind since Spring Break.

It all probably started at Dim Sum with my friends in December; won ton soup, it must be said, is awfully similar to ravioli. And the more I thought of it, the more I realized the universality of the "dumpling": boiled dough, sometimes wrapped around meat. In Europe, especially in Berlin, I noticed, more then ever, the variety of Eastern European adaptations of dumplings.

All of this simmered on the back burner of my mind until last week, when I went to get a pork tenderloin sandwich at the Made Rite before seeing Milk, a superb movie. Anyway, I asked what they had for desert that was home made. The apple dumplings, the girl responded. And as I ate my dumpling, I got fed up that I didn't know why I could get this same preparation Italy, Eastern Europe and China. So I decided today to do some research.

I was all ready to do a long project here in Grinnell's Burling Library, consulting dusty old manuscripts with yellowing pages. However, a quick Google search showed me a website had already done most of the research for me (with much more depth). Let me summarize their results here.

NOTE: Unless otherwise cited, everything below is from the website linked above. None of this is original research, and I fully admit that this is in no way original, just a summation.

"Dumpling. A term of uncertain origin which first appeared in print at the beginning of the 17th century, athough the object it denotes--a small and usually globular mass of boiled or steamed dough--no doubt existed long before that. A dumpling is a food with few, indeed no, social pretentions, and of such simplicity that it may plausibly be supposed to have evoloved independently in the peasant cuisines of various parts of Europe and probably in other parts of the world too.

There are quite a few types of dumpling, starting with the Ancient Roman Isicium, which I assume to be the starting point for most European "dumpling", including Eastern European varieties. In Europe, one sees Russian Pelmeni, Jewish Matzoh balls and Italian Ravioli (and later Gnocchi). They also moved East to China, where one sees Wontons.

According to the site, Isicium (literally: minced meat) could refer to multiple types of dumplings. Apicius apparently offered 2 varieties: meat filled and simple. His pheasant dumplings were phesant meat, roasted, and then chopped and shaped with seasonings and trimmings from the bird. The "spoon dumplings" were then boiled in salted water. His simple dumplings were just that: simple. Any meat could be minced, shaped with fat, and then boiled in a liquid. Sometimes tis liquid would be more like what we might consider a glaze.

This Roman dumpling branched out to create the classic European dumplings: your traditional yeasty dough, filled with a regional favorite and boiled. However, the dumpling landscape dramatically changed with the addition of the potato to agriculture.

You see, the potato is not native to Europe; it was imported from the new world. However, with its introduction dumplings were able to expand to their full glory, with the introduction of gnocchi, by those enterprising Italians, and the subsequent adaptation of potatoes into most dumpling doughs. This practice reached even the Eastern most reaches of Europe, to Poland, where potato dumplings remain very popular.

"That's all very well and good", you may ask, "But what about Chinese dumplings? Those are delicious! And they don't taste like gnocchi at all!"

Ah, my dear reader, you are correct. However, this issue is much more tangled.

There are multiple asian versions of filled dumplings, which may more correctly be called ravioli if we wish to apply the western name: the meat is wrapped in noodle, rather than being incorporated into the dough itself.

However, whatever Western name you may wish to use, dumplings can be traced as far back as the Sung dynasty, which ruled from 960-1279. They can be seen today as mantou, which refers to essentially leavened bread which is steamed. A similar preparation is seen in Tibet, where it is called "momo", but is essentially the same dish.





















Above: Mantou (Image from Wikipedia)

So did all these dumpling spring from a common origin; perhaps the Roman Isicium, discussed above?

While it is possible, the explanation need not be that simple. Dumplings, at their most fundamental level, are simply boiled carbohydrates. It could simply be that dough, boiled, it an extremely fast and cheap way to get some carbohydrates.

Whatever the explanation, I hope you have enjoyed this short history of one of my favorite foods: the dumpling, either Eastern or Western.

Europe: Bordeaux

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NOTE: This is part of an ongoing series of articles concerning my Europe trip. See below for links to the previous articles:

Overview

Barcelona

More Barcelona

Zaragoza: Part 1

Zaragoza: Part 2 (Tapas!)

Zaragoza: Videos

San Sebastian (Pinxtos)

Pays Basque: Part 1

Pays Basque: Part 2

Bordeaux

Berlin

Denmark

****************

And thus, we were dropped off at the TGV (high speed rail station) by Jean-Michelle and Sylvie. As Sylvie, as always, most diligently ensured that we were ensconced safely, I made some last minute purchases of pastries and then hoped on. As I watched Jean-Michelle and Sylvie dwindle in the background, I felt a little sad: I could have stayed happily with them, exploring quaint French towns forever.

However, Bordeaux was not bad.

Bordeaux is an ideal wine city. It is on a navigable river, ensuring its wines can be shipped easily to all the ports of the world. However, the soil is what makes it really special. Its rocky soil drains water easily, so the grape vines are perpetually deprived of water; leading to a more concentrated grape, which makes the hearty reds which take their name from this region.

Bordeaux is a handsome town: we didn't ever take pulic transit here; it was too small. However if we had, the tram runs entire along the waterfront.

One of the things on my list was to visit some vineyards. The second day, I got my wish and we boarded the bus, where we went to explore two winemakers of the region.

The Chateau Kirwan, the first stop, had a beatiful French villa. Once we stepped off the bus, the owner gave us a short but comprehensive tour of the operations, from the grape fields, to the juice extraction, to the lines of oak barrels in which the wine ages.

At the end, we tasted some of his wines. I enjoyed learning the process of tasting. First, you smell. Then you swirl then smell, and then finally you sip. Informally, I noticed that while sipping you swirl the wine while looking contemplatively into its depths, as if trying to find some deeper mystery. However, I believe that was our guides Gallic nature, rather than official protocol.

I didn't take many pictures of the city. However, Kyle, Tyrone and I were really getting into the swing of meals. I could identify restaurants like no other, and led us to our first stop, which we visited right off the train.
Note: the above trip was in the middle of the trip: now I am once again starting from the beginning.

I located this restaurant on the way to our hostel. Tyrone and Kyle seemed uneasy as to its quality, but I triumphed. Later, Kyle mentioned that he had been uneasy due to the fact that it was next to a strip club. I am sure it says something about me that I noticed only the menu of the day: saute de porc a la creme aux herbes (pork saute with a herb cream sauce).

I was not wrong at all for dinner. The saute de porc was mouth wateringly tender, and in a fantastically rich and complementary cream sauce. Notably, it also had one of the most delectable baked potatoes I have ever had. It was an incredible meal for 8.50 euros.

We stopped by a grocery store on the way to the hostel to pick up some wine and cheese for later. While there, we noticed the multiple varieties of nutella: a whole shelf's worth.

When I asked Sylvie for food reccomendations in Bordeaux, she gave me two things. I must have a canele, a traditional Bordeaux speciality, and I had to try La Tupina. I tackled the first one while walking around one day, and saw a baker selling the small, domed snacks.

The outside has an almost burnt, very caramelly flavor and a crisp texture. It yields readily to your teeth however, and betrays a chewy and gooey interior. I quick visit to wikipedia gave me the whole history, but basically confirms: it is a custardy pastry, baked in a way so as to make the outside crispy and leave the interior gooey.

The other thing I had to do was visit La Tupina, one of the best bistros in France. I was ready to plunk down some serious Euro money for this.

We walked in to see a roaring wood fire in a hearth. Apparently, almost all of their food is cooked over this hearth. I saw a variety of grates and carbon-coated cast iron pans, within which sizzled beautiful ingredients.

I ordered the six course tasting menu.

The meal started off with a little sample platter of radishes, sauccison and fried pork cracklings. It was a good way to cleanse the palate and get ready for the meal.

We also invested in a bottle of good bordeaux. It made the meal quite a bit better.

Also, some sweet breads also hit the table, another Amuse bouche. I love sweetbreads, a trait not shared by my companions (in life as well), so I had these perfectly cook babies all to myself.

My meal started off with a block of foie gras, garnished with some salt and pepper around the side and a piece of toast.

My favorite thing about French cooking is the simplicity. They only supply what is needed for the dish. In this case, all I needed was some toast to cleanse my palate after each creamy, complex bite of foie.

The main course was a "seven hour leg of lamb" served with a bordelaise-garlic sauce. The sauce was a thick reduction of the jus from the lamb leg, thickened and heartily enriched with good red wine and garlic. The lamb was amazingly tender; the entire construct fell apart with the lightest application of pressure from my fork. Needless to say, no knife was required (however, the meat knives at La Tupina were impressive affairs- razor sharp and quite large).

The incrdibly rich, decadent sauce went well with the tender lamb. If the lamb had been any less flavorful, the sauce would have overpowered it; however, this was not the case.

Kyle and Tyrone ordered some cassoulet, at my insistence. It is a perennial favorite of mine, and Bordeaux had the weather for it: cold, windy and damp. Nothing better than a casserole of white beans, duck confit and sausage to take the chill off.

After my lamb came a small round of amazingly good goat cheese, served with a very garlicky toast and some delicious cherry jam. Not much to say here, except everything was superb.

The last course of the night was the standout. An amazing apple tart. The apples had been carefully sliced and layered in the pan, so as to create an immensely dense and flavorful tart.

It was served with some of the richest vanilla ice cream I have ever had. Tyrone and Kyle looked at it with envious gazes. It was covered in a caramel sauce which enhanced, but didn't overpower, the apples and their flavor. Everything about the tart was calculated to enhance the natural "goodness" of the apples, not to hide it in sweetness.

That is the thing I love most about French cooking. It can be simple, because they use a small amount of high quality ingredients, and then they try to enhance them. Sometimes these enhancements take a long time and are expensive: pastry dough, for example. However, its flaky complexity betrays that it is in fact quite simple, but time consuming.

This meal was a hallmark of French culinary simplicity. In each course, there was, what we would term in English or Art History, a "single effect": the entire course was there to reinforce one effect, and give you the strongest feeling of that. For example, in the tart, you were to understand what an apple is. Each course had a ingredient that was front and center: foie gras, lamb or goat cheese.

The next day, while wandering around, we stopped at a nice little bistro on the Rue St Catherine, the main pedestrian only shopping street in Bordeaux. We had a nice little meal. Nothing spectacular, but just the sort of meal that Frenchmen take for granted, and that I will remember UNTIL MY GRAVE.

The meal started off with a nice little goat cheese salad; garnished well with two crostini of cheese, and well dressed. It had a walnut vinegarette which went very well.

My main course was simply entrecote with pommes frites. The steak was superb; tender, flavorful, accompanied by a simple pan sauce.

As you can see, the French know how to cook their meat. It was just cooked enough to bring out the full flavor and get a good char on the outside, but never were the juices hampered by the cooking.

The pommes frites here were OK; great by american standards, but they did not live up to the Gallic ideal I applied to meals in France.

Desert

For our final meal, we ditehred in a little square surrounded by restaurants. In the end, I chose Chez Edouard, based on its amazing menu. It wasn't until the next day I learned it was the 2nd bes bistro in the city, after La Tupina- the restaurant from the night before.

I got the 22 euro tasting menu, and started off with the (decevingly) simply named "Warm Scallop Salad"

This salad, as you can see above and below, it was far more than just scallops. It was a hearty collection of chrimp, mussels, clams and caviar, with some big divers scallops thrown on there as well. I think there was at least 22E of seafood on this dish alone.

Everything in this salad was excellent. Nothing was overcooked, or potentially questionable. All the shellfish were beauties, both by sight and by taste, and the overall effect was one of decadence, tempered by the discrete nature of everything: you ate it one piece at a time, savoring the variety overall, and the simple flavor of each piece individually.

For my main course, I got the duck magret with a honey sauce. I was excited for this, as I love duck, but I was also worried: would it be good?

Yes.

Moving from left to righ on the photo below: tomato filled with a brown sugar something, scalloped potatoes, a huge quantity of duck in one of the most delicate honey sauces I have ever had.

Above, the tomato and scalloped potatoes. The tomato was amazing; I would give up fingers to find out with what it was filled. The potatoes were also perfectly cooked and had texture while not being overly crunchy. However, both paled when compared with the duck.

As you can see, it was both a large quantity of duck, and perfectly cooked.

The outside had great sear, and the interior was perfectly rare. But really what knocked me out on this dish was the honey sauce. I was afraid it would overpower, but it did anything but. Both my companions were amazed at its subtle complexity; the sweetness had been tempered by the pan juice from the duck, and they combined to add another layer of depth to this dish.

The desert was very much in keeping with my ideas of a proper desert: dense, chocolate cake, covered in a heavy, heavy fudge sauce. The cake was dense and gooey, permeated with sauce.

This cake was the perfect end to a near unforgettable meal.

Chez Edouard, I think, was even better than La Tupina. At only 1/3rd the price, it delivered an experience that wasn't as complex, but in my mind more enjoyable. I think I enjoyed the main dish of duck more than the lamb the previous night.

On the way back, I was peckish and got a overpriced banana and nutella crepe. In retrospect, it was OK.

The next morning I had some quiche lorraine and coffee, as I prepared to leave Bordeaux for the long slog to Berlin, by way of paris.

I had a berry tart on the train in midmorning.

Alas, the trip to Berlin took forever, and were stopped in the wilderness for a few hours. However, we had sandwiches and money, which we converted into beer. It could have been a lot worse.