ReallyGoodWriter | Food • Writing • Poetry Iambic Cafe

food & poetry, but mostly the poetry of food

Food • Writing • Poetry

Yesterday netted me two excellent meals in a row: a great welcome back to London. Lunch was at the Royal Court Theatre Cafe where we lucked into three delightful dishes, for me a fabulous warm salad of Jerusalem artichokes, mushrooms and baby spinach, with a Parmesan crisp to nibble on…

and reportedly delicious others: a pumpkin and goat’s cheese tart crusted with almonds; and a Lancashire hotpot in its own little basin:

We weakened when faced with the dessert menu, and luckily so: the Sticky Toffee Pudding was ethereal

while the almond and fig tart was exquisite, a study in texture and colour:

Later that same day, at Carvosso’s, I struck gold again with the duck leg confit, with roasted figs, green beans and mashed potato

while my companion fell upon her swordfish with glee and said it was absolutely perfect.

A lovely weekend in Paris. We travelled up by TGV, which was a swift and smooth ride, and as soon as humanly possible after disembarking we found ourselves a pleasant lunch. For me, some lamb chops

followed by some delightfully crunchy creme brulee.

Supper on Saturday night was prefixed by a trying stroll to the restaurant. Apparently there was a techno-parade heading our way and the streets of the Marais were thronged with Parisian youth seemingly attempting to out-drink and generally out-yob their British counterparts, and we had to pick our way carefully through what had become an open pissoir and vomitorium.

Putting all that thankfully behind us we settled in for a happy return to le Bistrot de L’Oulette where we embarked on a series of unusual delights. My starter was one of the best I’ve tasted: escargots with artichokes; tender and perfect:

followed by oxtail with foie gras wrapped in a cabbage leaf

and finishing with icecream – prunes with armagnac.

Sunday we visited the newly opened Musée de la Chasse et de la Nature, which was excellent, stylish and unusual, from the courtyard

to the ceiling;

and even the toilettes were suitably attired:

We hastened then to fortify ourselves with a splendid salad

and then joined many, many Parisians in the Luxembourg gardens

where we found ourselves in a queue to see the greenhouses, which are normally closed to the public (it was a holiday though, so they were open for two days only) and which have a stunning collection of orchids

They have one or two dahlias too…

and lots of fruit:

Even more interestingly, they have bees

in many hives. They were selling the honey the day we were there, but had sold out within an hour; I gather it’s an extremely popular annual event.

We stopped to refresh ourselves with an Italian-style gelato from Amorino:

Foot-weary we managed to limp to a supper engagement at Chez Janou which is seemingly always heaving with custom, and rightly so.

My starter was a many-splendoured salad incorporating avocado, crayfish and pink grapefruit…

After some concentrated walking and shopping on Monday morning, our last lunch was upon us before we knew it. We settled into a cafe near Place des Vosges.

Tarte tatin, a fitting finale:

And finally boarded the Eurostar for the trip back to London. We were lucky to have no trouble getting ourselves back, since one of the tunnels is still closed and there are delays and cancellations which will go on for a while yet.

Last week at Chateau Ventenac sped by. Having made note of the interesting (to travellers) fact that it takes about 2 hours door-to-door to reach Stansted from Turnham Green, I have little else of comfort or interest to report about that journey.

There was that traveller’s moment when I learned, at Victoria Station, that there was no underground service on the Victoria line the day I travelled, and so I had to make one of those Londoner rolling-gear changes, where you must always expect the unexpected whenever making a journey, and I got there in the end.

Can I just say what an appalling place Stansted is for anyone who cares about food, comfort, manners or convenience? And to mention that you can pay stupid amounts for just about anything there… speaking as one who forgot to pick up that essential item (for the borderline flu-sufferer, namely Twinings Ginger & Lemon tea) at my local groceteria and was forced to hand over the extortionate price of forgetfulness.

Seeking literary consolation, I visited the book concession and – in a vain quest to find any section called “Poetry” – stumbled upon a promising new tome by Felicity Lawrence (Eat Your Heart Out) to keep me company on my journey. I have already learned more than I wanted to know about the evils of cereal and some scary things about milk, meat and vegetables. Happy landings…

Here was our view from the chateau:

and another, of the many surrounding windmills at sunset:

Here’s a view of our first evening’s supper, first and last course: some grilled goat’s cheese on bread on salad:

and a bit of apricot tart with ice cream:

Each day’s lunch included a decorative platter of sliced beets garnished with creme fraiche, as well as a good selection of salads, sausages and and cheese.

Happy tutor packs his pencils at the end of the week:

We had a trip to the market in St Nazaire d’Aude this morning, where there was a bit of everything on offer:

This little pig was there to raise money for an animal rescue charity, although I thought positioned rather dangerously near a sausage stand.

Just came across this sweet story about a heritage breed of chicken that has been revived in India, to help counter the trade in industrial egg and poultry production.

And while we’re in a positive mood, another happy story, about the rise of garden-sharing by urban gardeners.

On my eternal quest for food poems, I found this one by Helen Dunmore, called Wild Strawberries.