Mother-in-Law Sunday lunches

Sunday lunch is a tradition. Going home to the parents. Bringing chocolates or flowers. Eating a blanquette de veau. Drinking oneself silly. (ok so that one is just me and my miniscule alcohol tolerance.)

I really shouldn't complain. I really couldn't be any more spoiled as I sit on my behind in the formal dining room at b's parent's house in the countryside eating course after course of excellent food prepared by his mother's skilled hands.

Here is what it looks like:


Puff pastry with garlic and parsley escargot (yea, snails)

Mille feuille pastry rolled with chorizo sausage

Mini red bell pepper and basil loaves

Champagne

Smoked salmon and muscles on a stick with fresh dill

marinated yellow, red and green bell peppers

À table!

Mache lettuce, mushrooms, sugar beats, tomatoes, toasted pine nuts, croutons and duck breast

Hungarian royal wine and white burgundy wine

Slow roasted garlic and rosemary leg of lamb with gratin dauphinois (thinly sliced potatoes cream and cheese)

St Emilion red wine

Epoisse

The oh-so-skilled hands

Chocolate cake with whipped cream and fruit salad (strawberry, mango, apple, pear)

Followed by coffee, chocolates and nougats.

half hour nap

1 hour walk 30 minute train ride, 25 minute bus, 1 small salad, 1 big recovery sleep

And today's inappropriate French joke:

"a man who has a cheating wife need only be concerned that someone else knows what he has settled for" - classy huh.