Beef Tartare: Or How I Was Humbled in the South of France

Does your reach ever exceed your grasp?

I love to eat - if I am not allergic to it, I will give it a try..  I note the second part as I am deathly allergic to fish and nuts.  Don't cry for me, Argentina - have never had either so I don't miss them.  But for the rest of the food items - I will give them a go! 

When I was in France, if it was on a plate, I ate it; if it was in a bottle I drank it.  Every meal was the best meal ever, every bottle of wine was glorious!

Remember the scene in "Julie and Julia" when Paul Child asks Julia what it is she really likes to do and she says "Eat!" - well I could relate!  I tend not to overeat, but I start thinking about dinner at breakfast.

And of course France is the perfect place to go if you love to eat.  Each meal seemed better than the last and I thanked every waiter and chef profusely for every great experience and had a grand time!

 There was the best bruschetta ever near the Eiffel Tower...

The best tomato salads and frites which were everywhere and amazing!  And the rose!  Oh my!  This is a lunch at the Tuileries, en route to the L'Orangerie musee.  We were planning to make the pilgrimage back to Dani's patron saint, but it started to pour buckets just as we finished lunch so we hot-footed it for the musee and did not have time to get to say hello!  Ah - another excuse to go back!

How about the best chicken ever, eaten on a terrace in Nyons?  Hey - is that more wine?  How did that get there???

And then, dear friends, I met my Waterloo at the little hotel in the village near our gite:

Yes, that is raw beef. We had eaten twice at this restaurant before (it was the only one in the village!)  I knew the chef by then and I knew the food was all made with local produce and local animals.  They took great pride in their food and I took great delight in eating it and it was a match made in heaven.

And then I got cocky.  I eat my steak quite rare; 2 minutes a side for a tenderloin and then onto the plate and into my belly.  I am not the person to sit closely beside if you like your steak well done and i always warn folks of such.

So I told the chef I wanted to try beef tartare.  This was a source of great rejoicing.  "Certainement, Vous etes une gourmet, Madame!" which loosely translated means "Ah, you crazy Canadian Woman, you love to eat, let's see if you can eat THIS!

And then it arrived at the table. Not only was it raw beef, but there was a big old raw egg yolk on top.  Oh dear!  My 20 year old daughter had ordered the same thing (she is the poster child for the meat eater's society of the world - I apologize profusely to any vegetarians who are reading this, though I suspect you didn't even click on the blog today when you saw the title...) and she was excited.  My husband was horrified and could not look at either of us.

And so, I dug in.  You could add shallots and scallions and tabasco, and i added them all.  Oh dear. 

It was horrible.  My daughter was raving about how unique it was.  I ate on.  The wait staff kept coming by: "Aimez-vous, Madame?"  "oui" I responded, weakly.

I drank wine.  A lot of wine.  Two or three mouthfuls for every forkfull. 5 or 6 frites per mouthful.  More wine.  I made it through half of this.  My daughter ate all of hers.  I admitted defeat to all and got a round of applause by the chef and staff.  I had to have the chocolate mousse to get the taste out of my nouth and drink some more wine to wash away the memory.  I walked back up the steep hill to the gite half-drunk and with a horrible feeling in my belly.  I have not eaten steak since.

Well, I can say I have done it, and that is worth something, isn't it? 

Here's to culinary adventures in beautiful places!  And as a lovely parting "shot", this was the sunset off the terrace of our gite that evening before we went down to the village for dinner...

Ah - I feel calmer already!  Have a lovely Saturday!