Been trying to get together with them for over a year ... it took a trip to Paris to make dinner plans. Harry was my neurosurgeon (set up my Cyberknife treatments and told me recently on my annual visit: "Just as I suspected ... you have nothing up there.") and Jeffrie (his wife) works with Debbie in real estate.
The restaurant was called Au Petite Sud Ouest. It sits right behind the Eiffel Tower and serves nothing but duck and goose.
She looked at me as if I was from a different planet.
Harry hit a home run with her when he asked for tobasco sauce for his foie gras and his duck cassoulet. "No Monsieur! No tobasco ... no ketchup and no mayonnaise either!"
By the way ... foie gras is not the celebration where you watch parades and throw beads to women who raise up their blouses. It's actually duck's liver. People pay big bucks for just a teaspoon. Fancy names make stuff that you would never dream of eating sound fantastic ... like mountain oysters (Look that one up).
We all had duck, duck, duck, duck. And washed it down with wine, wine wine wine .... and it was good, good, good, good.
The owners were fantastic and check this out ... every table has its own toaster.
When the bread is served for your foie gras, you toast them at the table and cut ... NOT SPREAD ... the liver. Why you don't spread ... I'm not sure but who am I to ask such a foolish question?
Anything that costs $200 a spoonful should be worshipped first.
I thought about it later. Leave it to the French. They had to copy the original one ... you know, the one in Las Vegas, huh?
No comments:
Post a Comment