Un buon pranzo

Or, as my former colleague Paul Tissandier would say in his inimitable French accent, A good dinner where dinner rhymes with thin air.

Kim and I continued our punctuated wedding anniversary celebrations with a fancy Italian dinner at Il Casale in Belmont,  highly recommended by the Boston Globe and, more importantly, by our gourmand friend Gloria.

My one deviation from a pure Italian experience was a draft Blue Hills IPA which was the best beer I've had in more than a year.  While, I've not been drinking much beer lately (since the fateful Reno trip), I haven't yet taken beer off the list of topics this blog supposedly covers.  The insalata semplice was really good, though not exactly simple.

From i primi I chose gnocchi, something I nearly always choose if it's available.  They were very tasty, if somewhat tired looking.  But I know how hard it is to get gnocchi both to look alert and also to taste good.  From among i secondi I decided on the trout, a big hit with the reviewers.  It was really excellent.

Fortunately, we had left a smidgeon of room for i dolci.  I ordered something called bűnet which I admit I've never heard of before.  It was a thick kind of custard (or a very thick blancmange), known over here as flan, with a robust chocolate flavor with caramel sauce.

Their menu is a strange mix of Italian and English, I must say.  I detect a certain degree of Harvard MBA influence here.  It must be a tough choice: use all English words and lose the sense of authenticity; use all Italian words and have the waiters playing translator all evening.  But occasionally there are odd combinations such as tomato sugo instead of sugo di pomodoro or simply tomato juice.

But the evening was very enjoyable and I would definitely recommend Il Casale to anyone who doesn't mind spending well north of $50 per head (or should that be pro capite?).

And while I'm on a culinary theme, I should also note that there was one restaurant in Saratoga Springs that I especially liked: Tiznow.  The fairly large dining room was entirely empty while the four of us were there, so we get pretty good service.  The food was very good too.

Cornish Pasties

There are many good things which come from Cornwall, that part of England that looks like the bus driver's feet and lower legs. The beam engine, originally developed for the tin mines was its greatest contribution to the industrial revolution.  Devonian wits would probably mention "the road to Devon".  But foodies would might rave about such delicacies as Cornish Game Hen, Cornish Ice Cream and of course the Cornish Pasty.

But seriously, Cornwall is a wonderful place, although it can get a bit crowded for sure.  The coastline is magnificent and can be hiked relatively easily, if you have a lot of time on your hands. And it has great historical interest, especially if you're into Camelot, King Arthur and all that.

It's one of the Celtic parts of Britain or, to be more precise, Brythonic parts. And there has long been an independence movement, as they definitely do not consider themselves English.  Kernowek (Cornish) struggles to exist, although there are lots of efforts to keep it going.  For all intents and purposes, it went extinct over a hundred years ago but has been "revived". There are six languages that are generally thought of as the (extant) Celtic languages -- in two groups: Goidelic: Scots, Irish and Manx and Brythonic: Welsh, Cornish and Breton.  Given that for much of our human history, travel was easier by boat than over land, it is perhaps not too surprising that Cornwall and Brittany (Bretagne in French) are related culturally and linguistically.  It's not too far in a boat, as we're reminded by the sea shanty Spanish Ladies: From Ushant to Scilly is Thirty-five leagues.  [A league can have various meanings but here probably 3 (nautical?) miles.  In fact, the open-water distance is about 97 nm or 112 miles, not 105 -- perhaps it's no surprise that ships were constantly running aground at one of these spots].  I'm reminded that one day I want to read Barry Cunliffe's book Facing the Ocean.

But I digress.  On Wednesday, Will was coming over for dinner and I wanted to do something British.  I decided on Cornish Pasties, always one of my favorites growing up.  They actually came out remarkably well, although it took over three hours from start to finish (!).  Next time, I need to get the beef ground (rather than cutting it up myself as in the recipe) and I need to make the pieces of potato and rutabaga just a little smaller.  The pastry was remarkably edible, given that I haven't had much experience with pastry.  Not up to my mother's (or mother-in-law's) standards though.  Being in a hurry, I made four huge pasties instead of 8 or 9 more reasonably sized ones.  I couldn't get the pasty to knit together as well as I might, given that the filling was bursting at the seams.  See photo of one of the larger and messier ones (no, it isn't a Cornish game hen, or any other kind of bird).

But my vict.. er. guests enjoyed them, or so they said.  Too bad I can't serve them Steak and Kidney pie!

La Belle France

France really is a wonderful country. They do so many things well there: food, roads, railways, and many more. Even the beer is better than I remembered. And - best of all - their mosquito population all seems to be en vacances up at Kezar lake, in Maine.

Kim and I just returned from eleven days in the department of Indre, in the region Centre, visiting with my mother, brother, sister-in-law and niece Mia. Mia is seven and a real joy. More on her in a future post. Their village has a marvellous medieval feudal layout with the castle on the top of the hill and the serfs' houses spread out between château and river. The weather was wonderful, starting just a little too hot (mid 90s/30s) but becoming very comfortable in the following days.

We went with a list of activities and we managed all of them with the exception of visiting a vineyard. Oh dear -- next time. We played bridge (see Le Bridge), we attended a service at a Benedictine Abbey to hear the plain song (Gregorian chant), we visited two castles, walked some of the GR3 (one of France's wonderful Grand Randonnee routes), rode a narrow gauge railroad (see future blog), had some great food (and some that was not-so-great), did some bird-watching with Paul in La Brenne (where we first went 40 years ago!) and just hung out.

We finished up at a fantastic bed-and-breakfast (Château de Jonvilliers) near Chartres, but unfortunately tropical storm Danny threatened a problematic return today and so we flew home yesterday instead, thus missing our second night at the chateau and our visit to Chartres itself.

So what's so great about their roads? Apart from excellent paving of the meanest, narrowest country roads, their signage is really excellent (contrast with Massachusetts for example). Their speed limits are clearly marked and are reasonable (contrast with the U.S. in general). Their trains are probably the best and fastest in the world (Japan notwithstanding).

There are a few things which aren't so wonderful. There's apparently a law which prevents them from having English language options for telephone messages or web sites (well, if it's not a law, it's a moral imperative). Their menus are works of art in the obfuscatory sense. Would you expect Salade à la Maison not to have a sprig of greenery but instead be a plate of nameless fleshy objects, for example? But these are minor irritations.

Next blog: Le Bridge