Sunday, 23 June 2013

Corsica Bound: Diary of Departure: 14

It's our last full day and we make the most of the weather, hitting the beach. We take a bottle of wine with us and raise a glass to the sand and sea which have helped to purge us of the anxieties of city life.
In the evening we head for the local mountain village of Calenzana, famous for being the starting point of the first leg of one of the great world walks. The GR20 is a 20 leg trek down the spine of the island, traversing the granite outcrops that bear testimony to the violent volcanic history that form the island's spectacular internal topography. There will be no such endeavor for us tonight; we are eating at one of our favourite local restaurants 'Chez Michelle' which specializes in Corsican mountain cuisine, roasted in a wood fired oven. The pizzas are spectacular, but tonight my mind is set; I'll be having the spectacular 'Agneau de lait au feu de bois', the restaurant's speciality. It's baby lamb, basted in local olive oil, herbs and garlic, served up with tiny salty potatoes, all roasted in that wood fired oven. Di's eye is on veal and goes for the day's specials which she reads as 'Trumpets de Veau', surely a fanfare for this delicate meat. The first plate arrives and my heart sinks. I get the whiff before I see what's in Di's bowl. Her 'trumpets' are actually 'trippettes':  'Trippettes de veau', veal tripe! No way is she eating that! Her shoulders do that shudder so I quickly offer to swap it for my lamb which has just arrived, smelling beautiful. I struggle with texture and taste whilst Di luxuriates in my divine dish. Insult to injury: she ain't sharing! When the lady's hungry she has no conscience. I'm offered up the odd stripped bone to suck on but my meal basically consists of salty potatoes and bread dipped in tripe sauce... joy!

Thankfully the deserts are substantial so I have Soufflé au Brocciu. Corsican Brocciu is the famous artisanal Corsican  curdled sheep's cheese. It's normally baked into Fiadone, a cheese cake which is made with eggs and lemon zest. My soufflé is similarly flavored and served up with a fiery glass of eau de vie which helps to burn the tripe taste from the tongue. The job's completed by a couple of espressos. We wander the moonlit streets for a while then head for home. We need to pack for tomorrow's early departure.
Ipod: Giant Sand's 'Tuscon'
Song of the day: 'Out of the Blue'

1 comment:

  1. The side that's not my better side was glad the tripe emerged to take the taste of envy off my tongue.