La Cocotte

Le Cocotte a restaurant, by the apartment is exactly what I thought of when I imagined a local Parisian restaurant. On nice days they have four tables set up outside and inside it is always the same two guys running the show. So, today Brandon and I decided to have an actual "lunch". In Paris, lunch is an ordeal. It takes much more time the Taco Bueno drive through that I am used to. So, the one legged man and I headed out...across the street.
I got us through the formalities of ordering the wine and asking about the Plate du jour. I knew I would not understand the answer, but I had always wanted to order a "plate of the day". Realizing that my French skills had now stoped our waiter ever so politely switches to English. He said they had made black pudding and something else with eggs and sweet peppers for a first course. So, without actually knowing what we ordered we settled in to our bottle of wine.
Our first course was wonderful and it was something I would have never ordered. Equivalent to an egg over easy served with roasted sweet peppers and ketchup. Very good. Always good to try something new.
Our main course came to the table in a great Le Creuset pot and it was a beautiful presentation. Perfect dark little sausages on a bed of mashed potatoes. However, when I cut into the sausage I knew something might be a miss. The consistency was that of liver...raw liver. How do I know what raw liver looks like?
Well I lived in Costa Rica for a bit in college and it was my host mothers signature meal. Along with some fabulous chicken she used to boil with vegetables and cream. I contribute my 20 pound weight gain in Costa Rice to this chicken and a little dish called Gallo Pinto drowning in Manteca (the Crisco of CR).
So, back to France. As we are eating I ask Brandon what he thinks it is we might be eating. His reply, "don't ask I really don't want to know." Well, you know I had to find out. So I ask.
Our very nice waiter says, "you call this blood sausage". Really. "Pig blood." O even better. He smiles and makes a scrunched up face as to say yuck. Then says, "but you liked it no? It is very good." True. So he says the magic words of "would you like dessert". "Today we have made a chocolate cake." Well, I don't mind if I do, seeing as I have just eaten pigs blood wrapped in lord knows what. Then we top off our cake with a great little espresso.
Voila. Our first official Parisian lunch.
The moral is try something new. It might not be what you expected, but it always turns out alright.

1 comment:

Patricia said...

Ahh, blood sausage. The cuisine of Argentina, Chile and Scotland. They serve that up for breakfast in skirt wearing Scotland! No wonder they have the second highest obesity rate next to the 'ol U.S.of A.!!!
Bon Apetit!