Wednesday, 9 February 2011

Carcassonne by day and night

There's been rather a lot of frivolity here of late.  A more puritan sort of person might purse their lips in disapproval but sadness is like a slow creeping insidious fog that wraps itself around you so you can't pass by any opportunity to be jolly and enjoy what life has to offer.  Well that's my opinion.

Take the other day for example where a party evolved quite by chance around the purchase of a handful of lambs testicles which had been brazenly challenging His Lordship for some while on the butchers counter inside the splendid Les Halles market. The fact that they were being touted as white kidneys, rognons blanc fooled no-one and I was rather sceptical of the culinary feast ahead.  We all trouped back, I with trepidation His Lordship with anticipation.  First of all we kicked off with some plump fresh glistening moulés but instead of grilling them with breadcrumbs, garlic and butter we ate them raw as instructed by our French friends, conversant with all things gourmet.  A bottle of Reine Claude eau de vie covered in a fine coating of dust was pulled from the cellar.  Icy cold and served in small delicate glasses it slid down our throats like slithering silk.

We then converged into the kitchen were our next dish was prepared

1 testicle per person (as a small starter)
1 clove of garlic, crushed
salt and pepper
seasoned flour for dusting
a knob of butter
a handful of fresh parsley, chopped

Drop your testicles in a pan of boiling water and blanch them for 2 minutes, before running them under a tap and skinning them to remove any membranes. Slice them in half (come on – be brave). Season them with salt and pepper and crushed garlic. Dip them in a little seasoned flour and fry them in butter until they are nicely browned. Serve with sourdough toast and a sprinkle of chopped parsley.

I noticed that there was a rather fetching moon lying comfortably on its back staring into the black void, something which seemed rather appealing at the time.  I grabbed my camera and rushed down the road to get my night shot of Carcassonne. 

When I returned the plate of sizzling lamb testicles had disappeared, gobbled down by a guest of a rather vulgar nature.

I can't say I was entirely sad.





5 comments:

Milla said...

Jeez, I feel yr relief. Was weakened by the raw moules and destroyed by the testicle membrane. We're talking scrotum innards here. Shudder. Beautifully told, though, Sally!

Frances said...

Thank you, Milla, for saying it perfectly.

Sally, that moon would have taken over my attention, too. But,what's next on the menu?

xo

Pondside said...

I've never understood the delight in lamb testicles. Of course out here they're called Rocky Mountain Oysters. No matter the name, I call them revolting.

Posie said...

Think I will pass on the lamb's testicles...eek what a thought, we certainly have a surplus here, following lambing, but ugh, the thought of guzzling them doesn't appeal, think I would have been taking photos of the moon too, lovely picture

Anonymous said...

they were delicious ladies!

JR