June 2nd--recalling our meal in Port Dorée

Dear Mother,

Sunday was Mothers Day in France, so in the evening, Neal and Janie invited us out for a multiple celebration:  (1) Mothers Day, (2) their wedding anniversary, which will come up in about a week and (3) to thank us for our work at the Centre.

The four of us set off a 45-minute walk through the Bois de Vincennes, similar to the route our family used to take 21 years ago when returning from the Centre to our home Sunday after church.  Porte Dorée is one of many former 'gates' into the formerly walled city.  We used to live very close to Porte de Vincennes, which was one or so gates to the north.  The Bistrot de la Porte Dorée is likely our favourite restaurant in Paris, mostly because it is both affordable and celebratory, and has been our destination restaurant with the Bloughs every time we have come to Paris, starting back 1988-9.  They have a fixed-price menu that provides absolutely everything associated with a good meal in France, three courses, café at the end, the works. The owner knows the Bloughs well by now, and has been there for as long as I can remember.  He now even adds that he looks forward to seeing us again next year, which is nice. 

We were among the first to arrive, going at the very early hours of 7:30, so we got a lovely table by the front window.  I keep forgetting that the French and Italians prefer to arrive at 8:00, which is not quite your typical Greencroft meal schedule, but the Swiss and I like to eat a bit sooner.

The meal here always begins with freshly toasted slices of whole wheat bread (with crunchy grains), on which you spread a textured pork pâté.

Our entrées were selected from a full page of offerings.  Since it is a fixed-price establishment, you don't worry about one item costing a bit more than others.  After much changing of mind, we settled on things like smoked salmon and avacado salad,

or the restaurant's composed salad which changes regularly.  This time it featured chicken rolled around foie gras, a slice of their duck terrine, artichokes (alas, not the kind diners in Rome will soon be consuming) and cold veggies.

Then the plats, again selected after much musing aloud, a bit of whistful negotiating, and finally whittling it down to three choices, hoping the gods would decide for us by the time we had to order.  This year I finally remembered that waiters will not come to take your order until each of us has closed the menu, signalling that you no longer need to study the offerings and are ready; never mind that I need multiple fingers as bookmarks to help me remember what I decided upon.  Neal decided with the most ease of the us all, settling on the duck confit with what I would call rostis (new potatoes boiled and then sliced and finished in butter and oil, quite likely in the oven).

Janie ordered the scallops St-Jacques, I think they're called; anyway, scallops done just right in butter, with a fruit sauce, some prawns and veggies.

Janice and I both opted for duck breast with peach, roasted stuffed tomato, and a nice peach sauce.  I was so pleased that nothing was over-salted.

Desserts were next, after an appropriate pause.  I liked Janice's colourful plate which offered a selection of goodies, fruit (for the conscience), two kinds of chocolate (for comfort), and a rich creme anglaise (oh, why not).

I got what I always get here, their crepes flambées au grand Marnier and sugar, drenched with melted butter.  My back was turned, so I did not get the camera in time to catch the flambée bit, but the flames I saw went about four feet high--impressive.

I'll spare you a picture of our four tiny espressos, served with little chocolates.

Well, all of this reminds me of Dad's letters telling in some detail about yet another of your delicious meals, course by course.  He enjoyed eating, as do you and your descendants.  I was actually anticipating this meal even before purchasing our plane tickets, and I'm already looking forward to the one next year.

With love from us both, Evan