Is there anyone else with a childhood recollection of complaining about never going overseas and the response being something along the lines of "Don't you remember that we took you to Disneyland when you were 6 weeks old?" The wheel has turned and with no small amount of satisfaction Le Gourmand (my husband) and I realised that we would be able to tell our bub-to-be, Bruce, that we had taken him/her to Paris, New York and London, albeit in utero. However much more important work was done on this trip. Bruce was introduced to two days of french food and probably made the unpleasant realisation that his mother is a fan of garlic and butter in vast quantities. More importantly, Le Gourmand, often thought to be a picky eater, ate lobster, gizzards and blood sausage with relish, declaring that he would anything cooked by the French. I decided that this was the opening I needed and, within a week of returning to Australia, rushed out to buy Mastering the Art of French Cooking volumes 1 and 2, hopeful that this would widen Le Gourmand's palate to seafood and sweetbreads in the twinkling of an eye.
Acknowledgement must be given to the Julie and Julia phenomenon but it is only fair to note that Volume 1 has been the cornerstone of my mother's French cooking library since I was not even a twinkling in my father's eye. Consequently I have already been treated to the delights of its Coquilles St Jacques, coq au vin, cassoulet and boeuf bourguignon so the pudding has been proven, so to speak.
