Today Brian the meat man made me happy. Apparently it doesn't take much. He delivered a pork belly of outrageous dimension, and after slashing it viciously I massaged it with garlic, fennel seeds, paprika and olive oil and roasted it to golden delicious. As we had a bit of an onion glut, I thought some nice oignons farci on the side would make my day, so blanched, halved and nestled into duck fat, topped with garlic, parsley, thyme, salt and breadcrumbs, they ventured into the oven for a couple of hours and emerged ambrosial. Pork joy indeed.
Also rocking my world this week: quails eggs, rolled in toasted cumin seeds and guerande salt, as featured at the Christening party I cooked for on Sunday, along with 60 meringues filled with rose cream and pomegranate seeds.
Finally, must mention the guilty pleasure roast chicken sandwiches that Camille and I put away at lunchtime. They had a shameful amount to do with tarragon and chicken fat. Don't knock it, chicken fat is the food of the Gods.