213. Crispy Oven-Fried Cod (p. 301) and 214. Tartar Sauce (p. 885)

For a lot of folks, Fridays in Lent means fish for dinner. In fact, the seafood place in my neighborhood does so much business on Fridays in Lent that they need to hire a police detail to direct traffic. I'm not kidding. And it's with good reason ... they make the best fish and chips this side of the beach. Or, at least I used to think that they did. Thanks to this recipe, though, I think that honor goes to me now.

The secret to this dish is that the fish is double-coated, and you start it on the stove top and finish it in the oven. It gets just the right amount of crispiness, but it's not as greasy as deep fried.

First, I combined some plain store-bought bread crumbs and some yellow cornmeal in a zip-top bag with a little bit of salt and a tiny bit of cayenne pepper. I lightly beat a couple of eggs in a shallow dish. Then working one piece at a time, I put good-sized pieces of fresh cod into the bag, shaking gently to coat. Then I dipped the fish in the egg, and shook it to coat a second time.

To cook, I heated a few tablespoons of vegetable oil in my big cast iron skillet. Once it was good and hot, I arranged the fish in the pan. After just a couple of minutes on each side, the fillets were nicely browned. (I got to use my fancy new fish spatula! Having the right tools makes all the difference.) To finish the cooking, I added a bit more oil, and put the skillet in a very hot oven (500 degrees) for a few minutes more.

This fish was excellent. Crispy and flaky, without being greasy. The breading was just right, too. Sometimes, batter-dipped fried fish can be just too much.

I served this with some Roasted French Fries and Creamy Slaw (both repeat recipes) and this recipe* for Tartar Sauce to create the complete fish and chips experience.

The Book says that "if you've never had homemade tartar sauce, this will be a revelation." I'm not so sure about that. I used to think that tartar sauce was nothing more than a little bit of pickle relish mixed into mayonnaise, and for all I know, the tartar sauce at the seafood place down the street is just that. This tartar sauce was a bit more involved, and not as good. It starts out all right....mayonnaise mixed with finely chopped sweet and dill pickles. The finely chopped onion and capers are unnecessary, but unobjectionable. The chopped hard-boiled egg yolk gives the sauce a bit more richness and substance, which I did like. Where The Book lost me was with the addition of the herbs. Parsley, dill, and tarragon. The last of these, the tarragon, was so strong that it overpowered all of the other flavors in the sauce, and turned me off a bit. I'm not saying that this tartar sauce was bad ... it wasn't. It just wasn't the "revelation" that it was sold as.

Overall, though, this was one of my favorite meals of the project so far. And, who would have guessed ... my little foodie baby gobbled it right up!

Date Cooked: March 27, 2010
Degree of Difficulty: Pretty Easy
Rating: Fish: A; Tartar Sauce: B-

* The recipe for Tartar Sauce is not on epicurious.com ... no big loss, as far as I'm concerned.

207. Shrimp and Corn with Basil (p. 322)

There are some meals that you remember for your whole life. (Dinners at Morimoto, Prune and the White Barn Inn come to mind.) And then there are the meals that, while perfectly fine meals, are forgettable. This recipe, unfortunately, falls into the latter category.

That's the real problem with the backlog of cooked recipes that I've amassed in the last couple of months of less-than-active blogging.

By all objective measures, this is an excellent recipe. It's got only five ingredients, and there are only three steps: 1) melt butter; 2) cook corn and shrimp; and 3) stir in scallions, basil and salt and pepper. And just look at that picture! Looks pretty tasty, no? The problem is that I have absolutely no memory whatsoever of eating it. I can only assume that means it didn't make a big impression one way or the other ... not terrible, but not amazingly good either.

Date Cooked: September 12, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: I honestly don't remember

195. Tarragon Lobster Salad (p. 157)

Back on Labor Day, my in-laws had a huge family lobster-fest. Everyone was there: my wife's grandparents, her aunt and uncle, her cousins, and her sisters and their families. And to feed everybody, my father-in-law got more lobsters than I think I've ever seen in one place at one time. He boiled them up in the back yard in a huge pot over gas burner. When everyone had their fill of lobster, melted butter and corn-on-the-cob, there were a few lobsters left over. Left over lobster!?!? Who ever heard of such a thing?

Well, I took full advantage of this windfall and I made this recipe for Tarragon Lobster Salad for lunch the next day. This is a very simple recipe, and since my lobster was already cooked, it was even easier. First, I made a simple dressing of finely chopped shallot, lemon juice, a little bit of mayonnaise, some chopped tarragon and a little salt and pepper. Then, I broke down the chilled lobster by taking the tail and claws and joint meat out of the shell. I cut the lobster meat into bite-sized chunks and tossed it with the dressing.

This was a great lobster salad. The dressing was light and bright, and it let the lobster -- the real star of the dish -- shine through. There was just the right amount of mayonnaise, which is key, since a lot of lobster salads have way too much mayonnaise. And what can I say about tarragon? It's one of my favorite flavors, and it's slight anise flavor goes perfectly with the lobster's sweetness.

This lobster salad would be great on a toasted hot dog roll, but The Book suggests serving it in a hollowed-out tomato. As you can see from the picture, this is a pretty elegant way to eat lobster (as if lobster wasn't already elegant). But in addition to being pretty, the tomato shell and the bed of lettuce added some substance to the dish, which was good, since my wife and I were sharing one lobster's worth of meat between the two of us. (The recipe intends for one-lobster-per-person.)

If you ever have the good fortune of a left over lobster, you must make this salad, but, even if you don't, this recipe is good enough that it's worthwhile to buy lobster just for this purpose.

Date Cooked: September 6, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Very Easy
Rating: A

182. Sole Meunière (p. 284)

Could a single meal have changed the entire course of America's culinary history? If any meal can be said to have been so momentous, surely it would have to be the meal that Paul and Julia Child shared at a small restaurant in Rouen upon their arrival in France on November 3, 1948. It was during that meal that Julia's lifelong passion for French cooking--the passion that she shared with generations of chefs and home cooks through her books and television shows--was born. And the dish that sparked the fire that's been burning brightly in kitchens everywhere for the past sixty years? This recipe* for Sole Meunière, which Julia called "an opening up of the soul and spirit for me."

Since that meal was where it all began for Julia, it is fitting that the new film, Julie & Julia starts there, too, with a wide-eyed Julia breathlessly exclaiming "Butter!" as the opening credits roll. The movie opened this weekend, and I didn't waste a minute in getting to see it. More about the movie in a moment, but first, let's keep talking about food. I thought that it was only fitting to mark the occasion of the movie opening by eating, what else? Sole Meunière. According to The Book (the Gourmet Cookbook, that is, and not MtAoFC), meunière means "miller's wife," and refers to anything dusted in flour. And that's exactly what this dish is: a fillet of sole, dusted in flour, sauteed in butter and parsley, and topped with a butter and lemon juice sauce.

The first step in making Sole Meunière is obtaining the said sole. Without a doubt, the sole that Julia ate at Rouen in 1948 was a Dover sole. Unfortunately, Dover sole is a European fish that is hard to find in the United States. And while The Book says that it's worth seeking out the real McCoy for this recipe, it also says that gray sole or lemon sole are acceptable alternatives. I was able to find some gray sole at Hometown Seafoods in Andover, and that was good enough for me. The Book calls for two six ounce fillets for two people. The fillets at Hometown were much smaller, and so I got four fillets totaling twelve ounces.

The rest of the recipe couldn't be easier. I patted the fillets dry and dredged them in some flour. Then I heated three tablespoons of butter on medium-high heat until it started to brown. Next, I added some chopped parsley and shook the pan for just a few seconds to distribute the sizzling parsley throughout the golden butter. I added the sole, and lowered the heat slightly, I cooked it for just a couple of minutes on each side, turning it very carefully with two spatulas (it's very delicate). When the fish was golden-colored and slightly crisped at the edges, I transferred it to a plate. Finally, I added some more butter, lemon juice and salt to the pan and cooked it for just a few seconds before pouring it over the sole.

So, how was it? It was really, really good. The fish was light and flaky, with just a bit of crispiness. The sauce was buttery without being heavy. Browning the butter gives it a sweet and nutty flavor, while the touch of lemon brightens the sauce and cuts the richness of the butter. There's nothing "extra" or fancy in this dish. Just a couple of simple ingredients combined so perfectly together to make a truly sublime, yet uncomplicated dish. In MtAoFC, Julia refers to Potage Parmentier (Leek and Potato Soup) as "simplicity itself." Sole Meunière could be described in the same way, and it's no surprise that this dish was an eye-opening experience for Julia.

Now, the movie. It was everyting I hoped it would be. Meryl Streep is amazing. She's not so much "playing" Julia Child as she is channeling her. My money is on her for a Best Actress Oscar. But, with all of the fawning over Meryl and Julia, I think that the critics have been unfair to Julie Powell. As a cook-through blogger, I'm biased, but I can't help but feel the need to come to Julie's defense when the New York Times places all of the blame for the movie's few shortcomings squarely on Julie's shoulders. The Times calls Julie's book "rambling," and says that "the deck is stacked against" Amy Adams, who plays Julie because of "the discrepancy between Ms. Powell’s achievement and Ms. Child’s." Ouch! Even Judith Jones (Julia's editor, who stood Julie up on a dinner invitation during the Julie/Julia Project, by the way) is talking smack about Julie. Judith told Publisher's Weekly that Julia didn't want to "endorse" Julie's project because she thought it was a "stunt" undertaken by someone who wasn't a "serious cook." Courage, Julie! There are an enlightened few of us who understand what it was that you were trying to accomplish, and we appreciate your efforts. Don't listen to the haters.

One last point about the movie. At it's core, its a love story. There's the love affair we all have with food, of course. But, this movie is really about two couples who love, support, and understand one another. Without Paul Child and Eric Powell, there wouldn't be a Julia Child or a Julie Powell. This film was a wonderful reminder to me of just how lucky I am to have found someone who is, as Paul said of Julia, "the butter to my bread and the breath to my life."

Date Cooked: August 8, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A-

*This recipe isn't on epicurious.com, and, strangely enough, it's not in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, either. Curious that Julia didn't include the dish that started it all in her classic book. Julia's recipe for Sole Meunière, does appear, however, in Julia's Kitchen Wisdom, and was recently reprinted in The Chicago Tribune.

181. Scallops Provencale (p. 319)

There are meals that rock your world, like Julia Child's first taste of Sole Meuniere. There are meals that are just absolutely awful. And then there are meals that, while not life-changing, are exactly what you wanted at that particular moment in time. This recipe was one of those meals.

I was looking for something for something fresh, satisfying and quick. This dish fit the bill perfectly.

First, I seared some sea scallops in a little olive oil, and transferred them to a platter and kept them warm in a 200-degree oven. Next I sauteed some thinly sliced garlic just until it started to turn golden. Then I added some diced, seeded tomatoes, and fresh thyme. I cooked it for just a few minutes and added some salt and pepper. I spooned the sauce over the scallops and sprinkled a liberal amount of chopped fresh basil on top.

It really was that easy. The Book says that this recipe has a start-to-finish time of 30 minutes, but I think that it took half that in reality.

As I said, this was a simple dish that isn't going to change your life, but it made my night just the same. The scallops were excellent. Sweet and tender with some nice caramelization from the searing. The sauce was fresh and bright. There's no reason not to try this recipe ... like tonight.


Date Cooked: July 11, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

159. Grilled Lobster with Orange Chipotle Vinaigrette (p. 338)

I was flipping through the grocery store sale flyers a couple of weeks ago, when I saw that Market Basket was having a sale on lobstah! (I'm from Boston, in case you didn't know.)

I don't usually do my shopping at Market Basket, but I made an exception for cheap lobster. Whenever I go into Market Basket, I feel like I've entered a time warp. Sure, they sell Dora the Explorer Fruit Snax, and all of the other "current" food items, just like the Stop and Shop down the street. But, there's somthing different about Market Basket. Maybe it's because the bag boys still wear aprons over a white shirt and tie. Maybe it's because they still use sawdust to sop up spills on the floor. Maybe it's because their stores are still decked out in '60s decor. Or maybe it's just because it's where my mom did the grocery shopping when I was a kid. Anyway, bag in hand (with two 1 1/2 pound lobsters wriggling away inside), I stepped back into the twenty-first century to make to make this recipe.
I've eaten lobster hundreds of times. (I even ordered it in a restaurant when I was five years old!) But, I've never eaten it grilled, and I've never actually cooked it myself before. So, this was a new experience for me.

First, I par-cooked the lobsters. Now, I know that this is a touchy subject for some people. In fact, I recently read The Face on Your Plate, so I fully understand the need for the humane treatment of animals. But, I'm not ready to swear off meat, and I see little difference between quickly and efficiently dispatching a lobster in boiling water yourself and buying a steak made from a cow that met its maker at someone else's hands. So, I plunged the lobsters one at a time into the pot, and in a few minutes, they turned bright red. I only partially cooked them in the boiling water. They would finish on the grill.

Next, I made the Orange Chipotle Vinaigrette. I blended together some orange zest and juice, vinegar, chopped canned chipotle peppers in adobo, with some salt and sugar. With the motor running, I slowly poured some olive oil into the blender's top opening. Once it was nice and creamy and emulsified, I whisked in some chopped basil and divided the vinaigrette into two bowls (one for basting the lobster as it grilled, the other for drizzling on the final product).

While the grill preheated, I broke the claws and tails off the lobsters. Using kitchen shears, I cut the tails (still in their shells) in half lengthwise, and removed any nasty bits. First I put the claws on the grill, cooking them for a few minutes until liquid bubbled out of the ends. Meanwhile, I brushed some of the vinaigrette onto the tail meat and put the tails on the grill, shell side up. After a few minutes, I flipped them over, admired the nice grillmarks, and brushed some more vinaigrette onto the meat.

When the lobster was done, I served it with a green salad and more of the vinaigrette (to dress the meat and the salad). The lobster claws were awful! I don't know if it was the grilling, or if it was the lobsters themselves. The meat was dry, spongy, and pretty much inedible. The shells were incredibly hard, too, so I wonder if these were just tired lobsters who were due for a molting. The lobster tails, on the other hand, were excellent. The meat was tender, sweet and delicious. The grilling and the vinaigrette (with it's nice blend of the smoky heat of the chipotles, the citrus zing of the orange, and the slight licorice flavor of the basil) gave the lobster an excellent lift over the usual ... steamed with drawn butter.

The vinaigrette, however, was too heavy and overwhelming for the salad. (I can't blame this on Gourmet, since it was my idea to pair the lobster with a salad and to re-purpose the vinaigrette.)

The lobster tails were amazing, but that's really about all I liked about this dish. And even on sale, it was a lot of money to spend for a grilled lobster tail.

Date Cooked: May 30, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: B+

147. Shrimp in Adobo Sauce (p. 322)

I decided to make one of The Book's Mexican dishes in honor of Cinco de Mayo.

The Book says that this recipe* is from Elisabeth Lambert Ortiz, who was a frequent contributor to Gourmet. She was also the British-born wife of a Mexican UN diplomat, who along with others like Diana Kennedy, is credited with introducing many British and American cooks to Mexican and Latin American food in the 1950s and 1960s.

The foundation of this recipe is the adobo sauce made with dried ancho chiles. Before I get to the chiles, I just have to comment that the term "adobo sauce," as used in the name of this recipe and on cans of chiplote peppers "in adobo sauce," is redundant since "adobo" can mean "sauce" in Spanish. So, saying "Shrimp in Adobo Sauce" is like saying "Shrimp in Sauce Sauce." That just gets on my nerves, like saying "ATM machine" (automated teller machine machine) or "PIN number" (personal identification number number).

Now that I've got that off my chest, back to the "sauce sauce." As I was saying, the sauce is made with dried ancho chiles, which I swear I've seen at my usual grocery store. But of course when I did my shopping for this recipe, there were no anchos to be found. So, I bought some Aji Panca Seco (dried red peppers) and decided to take my chances. Just to be safe, I decided to look my peppers up on the internet, to make sure that they weren't atomiclly hot on the Scoville Scale. I found this cool website called The Cook's Thesaurus which has all kinds of helpful information about food substitutions. I'll use this site again for sure. The Cook's Thesaurus says that ancho chiles (at right) are dried poblano chiles. The Book says that they are sweeter and milder than many other dried chiles. Aji panca chiles (at left) are described as fruity and mild, so I figured that it just might work out OK.

First, I toasted the dried chiles in a hot cast iron skillet for just a couple of seconds on each side. I was really surprised what a difference this made. That little bit of heat made the brittle dried peppers pliable enough to slice open and remove the stems, seeds and veins. Then I broke the chiles up into small pieces and soaked them in some warm water for about a half an hour.

Then I drained the chile pieces and put them into the blender with some garlic, onion and oregano. The Book says that Mexican oregano is preferred for this recipe. The Book's glossary explains that Mexican oregano is not oregano at all, but rather a relative of lemon verbena. Apparently, it tastes like regular oregano without the bitterness. But, after spending $16 on cardamom pods for my Garam Masala, I had already blown my spice budget for the time being, and I decided to go with regular oregano. I blended all of these ingredients with a little bit of water until it was a thick puree.

Next I heated some olive oil in a skillet and added the sauce, cooking it for a few minutes. I added some white wine, white vinegar, sugar and salt, and cooked for a few minutes longer until it was a nice, thick sauce.

Finally, I added the shrimp, stirred to coat and cooked, covered for a few minutes until the shrimp were done.

I served the shrimp and sauce over white rice, and topped it with chopped avacado and cilantro. This was a really delicious meal. The sauce was thick, sweet, smoky and flavorful. Even though there were no tomatoes in the recipe, it reminded me of a hearty arrabiata sauce. The flavor of the white wine came through as a noticible and pleasant element. I was a little dissapointed by the lack of heat in this dish. That, of course, is probably entirely attributable to my chile substitution, and could have been corrected with a sprinke of dried red pepper flakes or a dash of tobasco. The other thing that I was dissapointed by was the underripeness of my avacado garnish. That, also, is not the fault of The Book, but rather my own poor produce selection skilz.


Date Cooked: May 2, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy (but this isn't a quick weeknight meal due to the extra time required to toast, seed and soak the dried chiles)
Rating: A-

*This recipe isn't online.

127. Seared Salmon with Balsamic Glaze (p. 290)

I've mentioned before that I have a special challenged facing me as I work through The Project, and that's my wife's refusal to eat beef, pork or lamb (I'm pretty sure that she won't eat rabbit either, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it, on page 408). Well, in recent weeks, The Project has become a bit more challenging. My three-month-old son has developed an allergy or intolerance to dairy, soy and/or wheat. And because my wife is nursing, if he can't eat it, she can't eat it. So, I've been scrutinizing the recipes in The Book to find meals that I can make that we both can eat. And one of the great things about The Book is that there are a surprising number of options that will work. The other good thing is that, this too, will pass, and my wife will be back on butter and flour in good time.

I picked this recipe because it fit within our dietary restrictions, and because it looked pretty easy. The recipe serves four, but because I feel funny about leftover fish (is that unreasonble?), I cut the recipe in half. First, I whisked together some balsamic vinegar (noting fancy, just the cheap supermarket stuff), water, lemon juice and brown sugar, and set it aside. Then I patted dry two salmon fillets (I used frozen wild Alaskan salmon from Whole Foods), and seared them in a pan with a little bit of oil, for a few minutes each side, skin side up first, and then skin side down. I put the salmon on two plates and then put the vinegar mixture in the pan for a few minutes until it had reduced. I spooned the glaze over the salmon, and we enjoyed it.

And did we enjoy it! The salmon was crispy and perfectly cooked. The glaze was light and intensely flavored. The lemon juice gave the dish a surprising brightness. Really very good. We liked it so much that I marched right back to Whole Foods to get more salmon and we had it for dinner the next night. The only drawback to this recipe is the smell. There's a bit of smoke when the fish is cooking, and the next day, there was a distinct odor lingering in the kitchen.

Date Cooked: March 21, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Very Easy
Rating: A-

109. Fish en Papillote with Tomatoes and Olives (p. 302)

I decided to make a romantic dinner for my wife for Valentine's Day ... No small feat with a seven-week-old baby, but I decided to give it a try anyway.

I picked this recipe* because it looked elegant but relatively easy. Basically, all you do is put the ingredients on a piece of parchment, wrap it up, cook, and enjoy.

The recipe calls for red snapper, but Whole Foods didn't have any. No worries, since The Book says that you can substitute tilefish, halibut, cod, haddock, salmon, striped bass, white sea bass or mahimahi. I decided to go with the halibut, and it worked out just great.

I seasoned each of the halibut steaks with a little salt and pepper and topped each with some sliced tomato, sliced kalamata olives, a little red pepper flakes, some thinly sliced orange zest, a couple of sprigs of parsley and a little bit of butter. I folded the edges of the parchment to make a nice, tightly-sealed envelope. Into a very hot oven for just a few minutes (I pre-heated the baking sheet before putting the fish in the oven).

After they cooked, the parchment had browned a bit. I carefully took them off the baking sheet and put them on a couple of plates. I slit the paper open, and a whoosh of orange-scented steam came out. Inside the little package was a perfectly-cooked halibut steak swimming in a flavorful, buttry sauce.

This was a very delicious dish. The fish was excellent: sweet and firm with a nice flavor. The sauce was nice, too. The olives gave it a nice briny-ness, the orange zest gave it a nice citrus zip, but not the pedestrian lemon flavor that you'd always be expecting. The red pepper gave it some bite ... maybe a little bit too much heat, though. I'll probably use just a little less next time. The other thing that I'd do differently would be to seed and chop the tomatoes rather than slice them. The sliced tomatoes were pretty, but they didn't cook enough and they gave off too much liquid.

Even though we didn't get to sit down and eat together (we had to take turns tending to the baby), it was still a romantic dinner in its own way. Parenthood brings with it a whole host of challenges, not the least of which is trying to find some time for mom and dad. But, romance comes in all different shapes and sizes, and I wouldn't have wanted to spend my Valentine's day any other way.

Date Cooked: February 14, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

*This recipe isn't online.

21. Coquilles St. Jaques (p. 320)

In honor of Bastille Day, I decided to make a classic French dish. Coquilles St. Jaques (Scallops with Mushrooms in White Wine Sauce) is about as classically French as you can get.

This recipe is very fussy and time consuming. But, I wouldn't have it any other way. Sometimes you have to work hard for really great food, and this dish is worth all the effort. Even though the recipe is complicated, The Book's instructions are clear and easy to follow. I never ran into any trouble. This also wasn't a cheap dish. A pound of sea scallops costs a king's ransom at Whole Foods. And when you're making a dish like this, you can't skimp on quality, so when the recipe calls for Parmigiano-Reggiano, you've got to get the real stuff.

This dish is all about the sauce. It starts with simmering white wine, water, onion and a bay leaf. Then in with the scallops for just a few minutes (they cook pretty fast). As they cook, the scallops take on the flavor of the wine, and in exchange, they impart their uniquely sweet taste on the sauce. What a great trade. Out with the scallops, reduce the sauce, then strain out the onions and bay leaf, and set it aside. The mushrooms are sauteed in butter and set aside. And if it wasn't French enough yet, here's where it gets tres Francais. You make a roux of butter and flour (a first for me!) and then whisk in the reduced wine sauce. This then gets slowly whisked into a mixture of cream and egg yolk. The result is a rich, silky, creamy and fragrant sauce. The scallops and mushrooms are combined with the sauce, divided into scallop shells or ramekins (I used ramekins because I couldn't find any shells), topped with breadcrumbs and Parmigiano-Reggiano, and broiled for a couple of minutes to make a nice crust.

Coquilles St. Jaques is traditionally served in scallop shells in honor of St. James, one of the Twelve Apostles, whose symbol is the scallop shell. According to legend, the apostle saved a knight covered in scallop shells. Pilgrims making their way to St. James's shrine at Santiago de Compostela in Spain carried scallop shells with them. Along the way, the pilgrims stopped at houses, churches and abbeys and asked for a donation of as much food as would fit in a shell. If they got a shell-full of Coquilles St. Jaques, they'd be happy and satisfied pilgrims. Chances are, however, that Medieval pilgrims would get a scoop of oats or barley.

My photo above doesn't do this dish justice. I'm in a fight with my oven lately. It's taking too long to heat up, but once it gets going, there's no stopping it, so it sometimes gets too hot. As a result, the crust on my Coquilles got a little more browned than I wanted (OK, it burned a litte). The blackened top aside, this is probably the best thing I've made in The Project so far. The scallops were sweet and tender. The cheese and breadcrumb crust was crisp and delicious. And the sauce! The sauce was rich without being overbearing. It was velvety and smooth and the flavor was amazing. This was truly a special meal, worthy of a special occasion.

Happy Bastille Day!
Liberté, Egalité and Fraternité!

Date Cooked: July 13, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Pretty Hard
Rating: A