And there were actually movies seen this time.
French movie night, part deux. During which we watch no movies (although we did have La Boum, which is only like the best paean to teenage romantic angst ever, on in the background), and actually, didn't really talk about our upcoming trip to Paris that much (aside from me whipping out my photo album from when I studied abroad there like SO many years ago [read: fine, only 4 years ago, and I have been back since then] to reminisce a little.)
But there was food. There is always food.
See, three different kinds of cheeses: brie, St. Andre, and Laguiole. And look, there were even olives in martini glasses (sadly, without vodka, but I had been so hungover the entire day that the only alcohol I could even think of imbibing was wine), and cornichons as well, although those are unpictured.
And my hungover ass even made dinner, because even though you cover two of your major food groups with just cheese and wine (cheese = dairy, wine = [fermented] fruit), I like meat. Meat is another major food group. So I made this dish from the Balthazar cookbook, which I've owned for several years now yet from which I've never cooked for whatever reason.
After how scrumptiously this recipe turned out, you bet your ass I'll be referring to this particular cookbook often. Pictured above is champvallon, and while I actually don't know what this means, it's basically braising lamb, onions, and other spices on the stove, and then baking it in the oven between a crust composed of nothing more than sliced potatoes. It was ridiculously easy, yet oh-so-tasty, if I do say so myself.
I mean, just, yum. I'm so ready to be a French housewife.
And so we talked, and we watched a little of the French movie, and then we decided to put on another classic (or it will be a classic someday, at least in my house): The Prince and Me, which I love so much because 1) Hi. Prince. Hot prince. Hot prince who speaks multiple languages and looks mighty fine on horseback; and 2) IT FEATURES TRACTOR RACING (and you have no idea how obsessed I am with this - to the point where I've gotten other friends addicted so that we throw themed parties that feature quasi-tractor racing).
Unfortunately, I cannot find tractor racing (or modified lawn mower racing, as it's also known) organisations in California, otherwise you bet your ass I'd be there watching. There is just something so amusingly charming about it all, although I don't think charming is the word I'm looking for.
What? Sometimes I like me my tractors.
It's an interesting dichotomy I present here, isn't it. France and tractor racing. Make of that what you will.
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