Like a true goose I have migrated.
This year has brought me off to many far away lands on so many improvised journeys that I started to feel like Odysseus: Tossed about more or less around the Mediterranean, from France to mainland Italy and to Sicily; meeting new friends (but no foes); and of course dining and wining splendidly.
But something about spring gets my feathers itchy to return to the lands of the greener pastures at the foothills of the Pyrenees. I know there, at this time of the year, I will find flowers in bloom; the last bit of snow melting off the tips of the high pyrenees; baby goats, chicks, and lambs; and the richest rounds of goat cheese. I am ready for a lungful of this air.
And I'm ready for some fat. And fat I will find in the Pyrenees. It will be coated on the beans and plumped in the sausages and sizzling on the duck skin in a bowl of cassoulet. It will be baked into the curves of a fugasse bread. It will be melting in my mouth and radiating in giggles of pleasure contained in the bite of fois gras enterier. It will be crunching in the crackling of pork skin. It will be in the beautiful ripples of cream filling a baba rhum.
Ah, the Pyrenees and their foods.
In just a few days I will lead a tour from the Pyrenees Mountains, to the markets of Toulouse, and into the grandest estates of the Bordeaux region. From May 7th - 17th I will be pleased to be in the company of fourteen members of Yale University's Epicurean Society. Our itinerary, designed by me and Lucas, the impressively capable and prepared President of their club, is jam-packed with all the culinary wonders of the southwest. My plan is to spoil silly these kids who have just come off of finals week, with 9 days of the world's best cheeses, glasses of ridiculously good wines, nightly feasts, and more!
If your appetite can handle it, keep checking in for updates throughout the week.
This year has brought me off to many far away lands on so many improvised journeys that I started to feel like Odysseus: Tossed about more or less around the Mediterranean, from France to mainland Italy and to Sicily; meeting new friends (but no foes); and of course dining and wining splendidly.
But something about spring gets my feathers itchy to return to the lands of the greener pastures at the foothills of the Pyrenees. I know there, at this time of the year, I will find flowers in bloom; the last bit of snow melting off the tips of the high pyrenees; baby goats, chicks, and lambs; and the richest rounds of goat cheese. I am ready for a lungful of this air.
And I'm ready for some fat. And fat I will find in the Pyrenees. It will be coated on the beans and plumped in the sausages and sizzling on the duck skin in a bowl of cassoulet. It will be baked into the curves of a fugasse bread. It will be melting in my mouth and radiating in giggles of pleasure contained in the bite of fois gras enterier. It will be crunching in the crackling of pork skin. It will be in the beautiful ripples of cream filling a baba rhum.
Ah, the Pyrenees and their foods.
In just a few days I will lead a tour from the Pyrenees Mountains, to the markets of Toulouse, and into the grandest estates of the Bordeaux region. From May 7th - 17th I will be pleased to be in the company of fourteen members of Yale University's Epicurean Society. Our itinerary, designed by me and Lucas, the impressively capable and prepared President of their club, is jam-packed with all the culinary wonders of the southwest. My plan is to spoil silly these kids who have just come off of finals week, with 9 days of the world's best cheeses, glasses of ridiculously good wines, nightly feasts, and more!
If your appetite can handle it, keep checking in for updates throughout the week.
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