Amadine was a female version of Gerard Depardieu: tall and portly. She was full of bon vivant and often utilized the French nonverbal saying, "pffft" which is a substitute for anything that doesn't require further explanation. The onions are burning, pfft, oh well. She added more butter and broth. While we waited for the duck liver to soften in the milk (yes, I did learn how to make foie gras today--I'm sorry vegetarians), she gave us a tour around her auberge. She gave a running monologue about the poor season she's had so far withe very reservations plus a grand wedding that canceled three days before the big day. She was "furious", insert hand gesturing and "pfft" at the same time.
I must say going into this, I was petrified. I had visions of Chef Ramsay yelling at me and throwing out my burning sauces spewing swear words constantly, but Amadine rarely corrected us and when she did, she was kind and civil. Just a "oh no, not like that" and then a "pfft" what does it matter anyway. She made cooking in her professional kitchen (Michelin star even) a comfortable and amusing experience.
With flies buzzing around us, we carefully prepared our Breton stew (Kig Ha Farz) which is a lot easier than it sounds. In fact, I'd be happy to prepare it for you someday. And, once we completed our promenade and coffee, we went to work on the duck liver. Now, foie gras is not something I enjoy that often. I don't really like the taste of liver. Again, I'm sorry vegetarians for what I'm about to say...but making my own foie gras has changed my mind. It was kind of fun digging around to remove the vein structure...a lot like playing with play dough. Yes, it is also completely disgusting, but I've never been that intimate with an animal's innards before and really there was a scientific curiosity satisfied by creating this French specialty. Yes, it is also completely cruel that they stuff these birds full of food to create their abnormally sized livers, but really, I guess you have to dig your own hands into a liver to understand what I mean. Unfortunately, we don't get to eat the foie gras we prepared, because it need to set for 48 hours before eating once it had been cooked. Amadine joked that if her customers liked it, she'd take all the credit, but if they didn't, she would know it was our fault. I was silently mortified to think that she'd serve what we made to her customers...It's a good thing I washed my hands!
When we returned to our cottage, we sat down to dinner with our hosts to partake in our Breton meal. It was delicious and heart attack inducing. There had to be at least a pound of butter in the dish not to mention the salted pork that simmered with the vegetables. I could literally feel my valves clogging up and my cholesterol soaring. I didn't mind though, because it was a small sacrifice I was willing to take for this wonderful experience. I felt like Anthony Bourdain except without the cigarettes and skinny jeans...well, and the camera crew, but close enough. Maybe one day, I could have my own Travel Channel show in which I traversed the globe eating local foods and conversing with local chefs. And, boy did I converse. Our hosts now know all that I grow in my garden, that I'm getting married in September, and the horrible economic situation of education in the US. From them, I learned that there daughter is also getting married soon, and Jo's parents are celebrating their 65th wedding anniversary on September 25th. He joked that it will bring me good luck and perhaps we will one day celebrate our 65th anniversary...I did the math quickly in my head and decided I'd be lucky to live another 65 years! Pffft!
Our Lady of Disappointment was indeed a no-show today, and I am so grateful for this way-out-of-my-comfort-zone-but-I-enjoyed-it-thoroughly-anyhow experience.
Tomorrow, we leave our peaceful cottage for the coast of Quimper and a night in a chateau. Yes - I get to be a princess for a night!
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