Today I had andouillettes grillee in a sauce made from apple cider made from locally grown apples, herring, salmon, coquille St. Jacques, and some really excellent coffee. The andouillettes were made with real chitterlings. I grew up in a state that celebrates two major (don't laugh at my use of the word 'major', 50,000 to 100,000 people constitutes a major event anywhere) chitlin festivals, and have never had chitlins before, had to go to France to have them. MB took a picture of me standing in front of a "Tracteur Pulling" sign. Swear to God. I've put on airs and run from my redneck heritage all my life and it has asserted itself bigtime in the birthplace of High Culture. What a life. The way things are going for me I may get a chance to give some furriner a country style ass-kickin before I leave. But I will NOT drink Pabst Blue Ribbon. Gotta draw the line somewhere.
OH, and I have had the best oysters anywhere. I can no longer claim with integrity that Bull's Bay oysters are the best in the world. Between Brittany and Normandy I have found transcendent oysters. If I'd been thinking I'd have asked for Guiness to have with them.
I'm not completely roont yet. When I'm having a good day I still write like Steinbeck. Problem is, I hate Steinbeck. It's always something, innit?
