I have tasted black
Posted on January 11, 2008 - Filed Under Food and Drink |
Writers are oftentimes faced with the difficult challenge of trying to describe what cannot be seen, heard, touched or felt, using only black little letters on a white canvas. With my lunch companions, this exercise becomes more difficult because of the language barriers which exist. But I struggled all the same. And when asked “Comment tu trouves le sanglier?” (How do you like the boar?) My response was “C’est comme le noir.”
It tastes like black.
At the restaurant Chez Pierre D’Agos, locked away in the Pyrenne’s Mountains, the menu was made of those classic french dishes. Including the tete de veau. I guess it’s a good thing the French take hours for lunch.
This time, I was presented with a menu which was filled with plates which I had never tried let alone heard of. My three course luncheon included: filet of pigeon salad, boar heart, and deer steak. While I’m not going to speak of the gratification of eating pigeon, for depositing tons of poop on my car, I will state for the record seeing “pigeon salad” on the menu was a pleasant surprise.
Boar, or wild pig, is one of those animals people avoid while in the forest. If this type of pig were to have a spider-biographer, like Charlotte, the spider would weave “Dead Meat” before the Boar would crush the gapping tourist senseless.
The meat itself did not have much flavor. At first, it was rather bland. But then the sauce screamed “Surprise!” and the taste beat in my mouth like the boar heart once beat in its chest. Dark. At first I was taken aback by the complete lack of harmony or the natural balance which is oftentimes associated with food.
No, this cuisine represented the other-side of the cuisine spectrum. Not the “goody two shoes” version of Iron Chef America (which I hate) but rather the “I know this is bad for me but I’m going to do it anyways.”
Instinctively, my hand went for the red wine. Forget the taste of blackberries, wrapped around “la goute de terre” and all that extended-pinky wine-talk. No, this boar demanded real, intense wine; the only thing which could tame the savage taste which lingered uncontrollably in my mouth.
The next bite was anticipated. My taste buds winced, as if something extremely bitter was about to land full-force on my tongue. A little more sauce this time. After the third wash with red wine the taste buds started to come around. Instead of saying in that refined “Yes, I would like a little more please” it was a savage “GIMME!”
I complied.
The end of the meal brought a satisfaction. Not in the sense of "Oh, I’m full" but rather to have enjoyed, truly enjoyed something at its most primal level.
If you liked that post, then try these...
No rehab for me on October 30th, 2007
Elbow was aching; knee was shot.
Yes, it's that time again on November 16th, 2006
The moment you've been waiting for all year has finally arrived.
Comments
Leave a Reply
