Monday, June 23, 2003

It is six thirty on a Monday morning, and I am eating my first helping of Terrine de Porc, Veau et Jambon, while listening to a message from Eric on the machine.  I don’t know how I missed it.  I was up until nearly eleven, pretty late for a girl just recovered from a massive hangover, and certainly too late for the husband in England to be calling.  But call he did, from a stone circle in Amesbury.  The town clock chimed 4 in the morning.  He was waiting for the pagans to show up.  It breaks my heart a little that I missed him. The Terrine is quite good.  Not as smooth and spreadable as most store-bought pates I’ve had.  That is in part because of the strips of ham and veal, but not entirely.  It also doesn’t have quite the funky taste.  It is rich, the many forms of pig fat guarantee that, but lacks that back-of-the-mouth whiff.  I believe that liver is the answer here, or rather the lack thereof.  Still, it is very good, and interesting sort of breakfast food.  I really ought to take some in to work, but the thing is that sheets of pig fat, which are probably too thick and a little ratty looking, give a sort of feral feeling to the dish, and I’m afraid all my Republicans would run for the hills.  Which, of course, is an excellent plan. Last night I was an absolute boil on the butt of the Julie/Julia Project.  I couldn’t even manage to go out and get some butter so I could make Beurre a l’Ail to throw on some potatoes or something.  Instead I ate leftover ham with mushroom foie gras filling and spinach, and watched the first season of episode two Buffy.  But laziness abates, ham continues.  I’ve moved through the whole hams, on to ham steaks, which should be an easier ride.  Then it’s on to cassoulet, hopefully next weekend, and then it’s nothin’ but innards and tarts, folks, innards and tarts….   7:02:43 AM    comment []