I spent six days in Paris and I can’t stop thinking about the eggs. One egg in particular.
We Americans eat eggs at breakfast. Sometimes we eat them in quiche for
lunch. But we don’t ever eat them for dinner. And that’s a shame. A real
shame.
We were at one of three restaurants owned by the same person on the meme rue. He has a super fancy one, a medium-fancy one and a bistro. We ate at the bistro, Cafe Constant,
and it was amazing. I can’t begin to imagine how good the super fancy
one would be.The cafe was small, cozy, chock full of Frenchies and
completely no nonsense.
And this is where the egg happened.
I chose the ‘oeuf mollet’ from the specials board for my starter.
It translates simply as boiled egg–a soft-boiled egg and in the case of
Cafe Constant it is a soft boiled egg breaded and served on a bed of
creamy wild mushroom sauce…like the goose’s golden egg cradled on a
soft pillow of mushroom cream.The creamy sauce was silken and smooth
with a whisper of earthy mushroom flavor. Magnificent.
Then the egg.
Stop and think for a moment about what a soft-boiled egg looks like. How
hard it is to cook the perfect one, how treacherous it is to peel, how
fragile and dainty its wobbly white layer. Now imagine rolling it in egg
wash and breadcrumbs and cooking the outer layer to the perfect
crispiness; rolling and cooking without breaking it or over cooking the
yellow, molten center.
Just the sort of thing the French take seriously. An egg. The kernel of life deserves to be elevated from scrambled.
When I cut into the gilded crust, through neige white, the yellow
gooey and perfect; it was beautiful. Flavor matching artistry; a
masterpiece. The mushroom cream the perfect foil to the luscious egg.
Perfection. And as I ate it, marvelling at its gloriousness, the French
woman at a neighboring table asked the waiter what it was…what
heavenly concoction had I ordered because she wanted it too. Now that’s
something.
I really cannot stop thinking about it. So much so that I found a recipe. Will I attempt it? I don’t know. I don’t like disappointment.
Drew, no hens but i’ve always wanted them. are you going to try making them? you should and let me know!
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