Guest Post – Doonks
Be my lover. Be my food. It is the most sensual of all things and all acts, loving through food, loving with food. Loving food.
I am of course reminded of my early visits to Paris, the city of love. And food! Warm nights, seasonal fruit, the tickle of fairy bubbles leaping from flutes of Clos d’Ambonnay, and the perfume of ripe Roquefort on dried wafers with the delight of a little Cabernet paste. These are the things of yearning, and amour. It is the ability to immerse oneself into a culture, a yoghurt, if you will, of tradition and desire, that produces both dishes and attractions sometimes only found deep in the annals of such literary giants as de Laclos’ ‘Les Liaisons Dangereuses’ or of course, Arsan’s ‘Emmanuelle’.
The French have developed their place in history through a tenacious desire to perfect the arts of love and food. And it’s with that inspiration that I too have strived to develop a perfect marriage of love and food. Food can find you the lover. Creaminess, fat, meat, fruitiness, nutty flavours, the berries, the fowl. But of course none of these are equal to that of the Truffle. The mighty ‘Truffe Noir’, that fungus of the pigs! What more could bring to your loins the rumblings of love, the flavour of heritage and the Michellin Star?
As is usual, national dishes are oft that of the paysan. Meals eeked out of necessity, animalistic in nature, tribal by design, base. These are tools of my love, as are the paysan my quarry. They have taught me much, lead me to understand and identify exactly which la chair animale reduction is but a mere three further minutes from the perfect lube.
The Truffle defines your lover’s scent, the reduction your lover’s slip, but what is needed to complete your lover’s body? It can only be that of meat. And what is but the natural cut to be complimented by scent and lube?
Like any canine-toothed omnivore unafraid to embrace your primal food urges, you like to gnaw on a hunk of cow every now and then. You are a friend of the filet, a lover of the loin, you appreciate both the flash-fried minute steak and the slow-cooked shin, the traditional Sunday roast and the spicy BBQ brisket.
But where do you turn when you want something more than a sirloin but less than a full-on standing rib roast? Something thats marbled with delicious fat but doesnt have to be cooked for hours? Something that can be served as easily for a fast mid-week dinner as it could for a lavish dinner party?
You turn to your lover, the Côte de buf of course.
And in the steaks of love, the exponents of scent, reduction and meat, there are lovers the world over, lovers to be found in travels, lovers in smokey bars with bad piano players, lovers in streets, cafes, bakehouses. Lovers in restaurants. All to be found and all as yet unknown. But of the known, of those with skill, technique, training, I know of only two…