I woke up a little grumpy this morning. E went to the market and I went to get some exercise and when he came back with fruit, croissants and cheese, all was well again. After breakfast we walked about an hour (uphill!) to St. Joseph’s Oratory, which is apparently second in the world only to St. Peter’s as far as basilicas go. We spent about an hour walking around the grounds, admiring the intricacy of the doors and checking out their on-site museum (free admission since we happened to arrive on St. Andre’s birthday!) before heading back downtown. We had Indian food (not sure why, but all I really wanted out of life at that moment was Indian food) for lunch and then went back to the hotel for a nap.
We awoke from our nap groggy and disoriented, but pulled ourselves together for our walk (through the rain!) to Au Pied de Cochon. If you can’t tell from the name, they essentially serve all manner of meat products (particularly pig). Unsure of the portion size, we started off by ordering several of the appetizers. After our fourth one, the server stopped us and asked, “Where are you going with this?” E replied, “Well, we wanted to try a few appetizers and then get a couple of main dishes. How are we doing on quantity?” “Not good,” the server said. So we narrowed it down to a salad, a liver mousse, a boudin and (the prize in all this) poutine au foie gras (poutine is french fries smothered in gravy). Everything was delicious, even if it was a bit much. Foie gras on its own is a bit silly – we were really just trying it because, you know, when in Rome…In fact, you can’t even get foie gras in California anymore, because it basically involves force-feeding a goose and then eating it’s extremely fatty liver. A lot of foodies are annoyed by the ban, but as E likes to point out, “Eating foie gras is not going to get you laid.” Aside from the fact that most women aren’t impressed by animal torture or how much money you’re willing/able to spend on bizarre delicacies, the real reason for the truth behind his statement is that once you’ve eaten even just a bite of foie gras, you feel so heavy and gross that you’re not about to take your clothes off for anyone. It’s not that it tastes bad, it’s just so rich and fatty. I had a bite of the foie gras and about five of the poutine fries before my arteries went into self-preservation mode and I was unable to eat any more. In it to win it, though, E and I still polished off the rest of our meal and ordered dessert.* All in all, we enjoyed the experience and had a lot of fun over our long, slow, deliciously fatty dinner.
*When I wrote this in my journal originally, I included a note about how we walked back to the hotel to try to burn off some of our meal, but when we arrived we were unable to sleep. Or move. We both thought we might die, and I requested that if someone found us and read my journal, that they please turn our intestines into sausage or maybe our livers into foie gras because I bet that they’d be pretty tasty at that moment.