A conversation at lunchtime
Last night Laurie and I had dinner at Crémant, a new French bistro in Madrona. It was a great meal of classic bistro dishes. As one of our friends said, “I don’t want to order roasted marrow bones, but it’s nice to know they’re on the menu.”
I had grilled sardines and French onion soup. French onion soup has got to be one of the most difficult things in all of cooking to make well, judging by its tragic win/loss record, but this one was perfect. Laurie had a charcuterie plate that included a delicate thin-sliced blood and tongue sausage, and a salade toulousienne with beans, Toulouse sausage, and duck confit. We didn’t really have room for dessert, so we ordered crème brûlée, which was as archetypal as the soup.
Today we were telling Iris about our dinner, especially the dessert. “What is crème brûlée?” she asked. Laurie explained that it’s like pudding with crunchy sugar on top.
“Do I like crunchy pudding?” asked Iris.
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