This post is long overdue, considering it revolves around an experience that occurred during my trip to Paris in November, but better late than never right? Brace yourselves, this is a long one -- It's the story of how I kicked foie gras out of my life -- yes, foie gras.
My love for foie gras came in phases:
- Phase 1: My mom introduced me to foie gras in the 8th grade at the St. Regis Aqua in Laguna. She actually ordered both the seared and cold versions, and I HATED both; I did not see any appeal in either of the oily dishes. Suffice to say, I steered clear of foie gras for a while.
- Phase 2: A few years later, a drastic turning point came in my life where I suddenly began to like foie gras. No particular restaurant set this off, but I started to agree to split foie appetizers with my mom.
- Phase 3: Addiction. It became almost a default choice at any french or new american restaurant to try out the foie appetizer -- I was completely infatuated with the idea of the dish, served seared, cold, over french toast, as a popsicle covered in chocolate (this was actually an amuse bouche, but it was tasty) -- you name it, I'd eat it.
Fast forward --> Paris November 2008. It seemed like only the right thing to do -- to try the foie gras at almost every restaurant we went to (Strike #1); we were after all in a regional paradise for foie lovers. After a few awesome meals from a small tartine eatery to Le Jules Verne, came dinner at Helen Darroze's restaurant (who is a large proponent of foie, and sometimes referred to as the protege of Alain Ducasse). One of the appetizers on the menu was, of course, seared foie gras, but the catch was that you had to place a minimum order of two. This caught me slightly off guard because I'd never had foie gras prepared in a way that feeds a minimum of two people. My mom and I brushed off the disclaimer (Strike #2), which is where the night went downhill.
After awesome bread cart and freshly cut prosciutto action (photos on that later), our server wheeled out a cart with a nice metal platter on it. Sitting on that platter is what looked like what you would imagine five zong zi combined into one lotus leaf would look like. I raised my eyebrows inquisitevly and watched as our server delicately unwrapped this heaping mass, only to reveal the LARGEST HUNK OF FOIE GRAS I HAD EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE. My jaw dropped, not out of excitement, but sheer horror. Where did they get that mass of liver!? I then smiled in my head, and naively thought "Wow, how awesome. Just like bread or cheese carts, they are going to cut us each a fresh slice of this foie!" (Strike #3).
Our server cut the entire thing up into 8 chunks, putting 4 on one plate for myself, and 4 on another for my mom. I looked around the table confused, shifting my eyes and raising my eyebrow to Sophia and my mom. The waitress placed the plates in front of us, and all I could think was, "I'm fu**ed".
(Picture taken after giving a portion of one slice to Sophia)
Anyway, I decided to just man up and try to eat all of it (Strike #4 -- already completely out of the game at this point). Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, the foie was a little too runny, oily, and tender for my taste -- it was practically oozing animal cruelty. In the end, I could only get through about two slices. Combined, my mom and I probably left 3 - 4 slices on our plates -- a waste, I know. But if we had eaten all of that, I'm sure we would have spent the rest of the meal in the bathroom. Our waitress must have expected it though; I don't even think she really asked us if we were done before taking our plates away. "Got em!", she probably said to herself. After she took our plates, I muttered "I'm never going to eat foie gras again for the rest of my life".
Next to getting chased by rabid cannibals in the woods, my worst nightmare would be this monster of a liver chasing me around the streets of Paris shouting "Eat me!"
Fast forward --> We stopped by 3-Star De Karmeliet in Bruges after Paris, and I didn't dare to even think about ordering foie gras. The next time I had foie was probably in January went I went to Taiwan, but I gave half of the meager portion to my mom. It's been four months, and I haven't touched the dish since then.
And that my friends, is how I ended my not-so-secret love affair with foie gras.
fin.