It's a miracle we didn't explode

One of my best friends came to visit us this weekend, and we ate...and ate...and ate...and it's a miracle we didn't explode.


We went to Le Comptoir du Relais for lunch and had a hearty French meal replete with fois gras, duck, ox tail, escargots (the best I've had in France), and red wine, of course. It was enough food to kill a small horse, and also to make me feel a bit like a balloon filled with meat instead of air. 


After filling up the tanks (as in, our stomachs), we went directly to one of my demonstration classes (to which I invited my food-loving friend), and yes, we ate again. This time, it was escargots  and chicken with mustard sauce and crepes. After that, I made the chicken at a practical class, and began to feel even more like a hot-air balloon than before. I was sweating, felt feverish, and if it hadn't been for my friend W in class, I would never have made it through. Thanks, lovely lady! I managed to finish my chicken and receive a "bon" from the chef, pack my chicken, and get on the metro. As I was leaving the metro, forehead sweaty and hands clammy from so much eating, I saw a middle-aged man begging on the sidewalk. I looked at my chicken and thought to myself that someone needed this food more than I. So, I gave the man my chicken, and felt a bit of relief from swimming in the sea of gluttony. That night, I'll spare you the details, but let's just say that something did not agree with me, and I needed to let it all out. I'll stop there. But read on, for there is more to this eating madness!

chicken in mustard sauce and crepes

escargots with mushrooms on a bed of puff pastry

The next day, my body craving for some time to digest, I ate only bread and water until dinner time. My friend was still in town, and we had plans to...you guessed it...go out to a nice dinner. So, neither the hot-air balloon feeling, the detox activity from the night before, nor the guilty feeling of having more to eat than others, stopped me. I ate some more. We went to Fish (La Boissonnerie). Paris by Mouth describes it as "modern french" and let me tell you, it was fabulous.


Starter: Beet soup
Main courses: Daurade with risotto and linguini with fish eggs

But wait, there's more. The next day, did this craziness end? Oh, no. I ran out of the apartment in my pijamas (oh, the shame!) to Gerard Mulot to get breakfast:

This is shameful. Is there no end to my gluttony? I promise, only cereal dinners this week. Actually, did I tell you that after cooking all day, I often only want cereal for dinner? I bring home the food, give it to my family, and want nothing to do with it. So I guess eating my way through Paris this weekend with a good friend was somehow acceptable. Right? Please say yes.