Comforting, hearty food. Good good stuff that makes one want to snooze satisfyingly.
Minced mix of scallops and egg whites quiver tenderly on the plate as a scallop sausage, just that tiny waft of scallop sweetness, backed by soft cabbage and chopped lardons, enjoyable textural complemantarity. Lemony borth comes on a bit too strong, a loud voice when a sigh would have sufficed.
Rosy firm pork chops, brontosaurous sized, a plate of Normandy, from sweet cider broth to snappy roasted apple to camembert, baked, melted, parsley flaked over the the chop, rich whiffy cheesey pungence over pork and apples, a natural trinity. Spinach sops up juices and all, admirably, ending with hard crispy potato.
Bread pudding is custard; slightly stiff, gorgeously thick, seeping vanillia dotted moisture, and topped with intense dried cranberries. A picture of tart and sweet and sour and buttery egginess.
A glass of berry laden rhone with a spicy tail.
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