En retard Jour de Valentines

When one travels to a different city, or country even, there are expectations, like the kind of cuisine, the types of people, the landmarks, and so on. There is inevitability that there will be things that no one can expect, my favorite includes smells. The smell or combination of smells of a place is not only related to what's going on in the city (construction, landscaping) but also to the food that is cooking on the street corners, in bakeries or chocolate shops, BBQ and chicken shacks.

France to me has one of the greatest smells, of course, depending on where you are you get different facets. You get stinky cheese, and sweet grapes, the smell of fresh bread (which is not easy to make - entry to follow regarding), olives, meat roasting, fish being sold. These are things I miss when I walk around Chicago - unless, however, you find yourself walking downtown on a day when the wind has strewn about the smell of baking chocolate confections from near by candy and cookie emporiums.

The husband told me the other day, said he, "We live in the Paris of the US."

I had to think about it for a second. I mean, yes, I live within a large pool of minorities, just like where I would be able to afford to live in Paris. There are frequent street vendors. The mid-eastern cuisine in this town is amazing, just like the gaye-olde. And the Trump town is just like dear Eiffel... well maybe not quite.

On valentine's day the husband and I went to one of our favorite French spots in town. Bistro Campagne to me is so French it hurts. Not only does it smell great both inside and outside, but I ache to be back in la belle F. after sitting in this place for 10 minutes. My favorite time to go is in the winter - when the seasonal menu includes Cassoulet, a spanker to make (3 Days), but well worth the effort I'm sure. I'd rather just get it from these chefs, it's so much easier and you get a whole duck confit leg on top too! What's not to love?

We started out with a great bottle of vin rouge, their Chinon 2005, yummy. Then we ordered something I now know cannot live without.

Roasted bone marrow.

This stuff is like beef butter, scooped out of the bones, spread on toast with a little sea salt shavings. So good, so rich. I know some of you might be like, "dear baby jesus, no, she can't be serious." This dish is other-worldly. I love now that where Anthony Bourdain talks about it I can say to myself "Preach it, Tony. Amen."

Then I did something unorthodox (because the marrow wasn't enough). I ordered the chicken.

A good friend of our always gets the chicken here. He's a chef and foodie, and makes a great one himself. But he says B.C. has the best in the city. I am inclined to agree. The husband, who in the past has only ordered the chicken here, requests my beloved Cassoulet and though I was ethereally happy with my chicken...I was jealous. Beaucoup.

We ended the night ordering dessert, I a lush 4 tablespoons of Chocolate sabayon and cookies. Mmmm! tiny desserts!

Then something a bit odd happened...

The table next to us became full of that certain kind of person that goes out on Vday, you know that one I mean. The people that come to a fancy restaurant and order a house salad...only. Two couples, nice enough people, I'm sure, but would have been much happier at a bar. (there is nothing wrong with a good bar, I love bar food)

One of the guys told our waiter "I don't eat anything with butter or cream. Oh, and I don't eat bacon."

Hold Up.

You're in a froofy frog shop and you don't eat butter, cream or... bacon?

I might have asked them to leave, or at least questioned their aims of the evening....and I think any Frenchy would have too. I am happy they tried a new place to dine, the experience is everything. But they will need to develop that butter-fetish before making the leap across the pond.