Colette was throwing out suggestions for a perfect venue for a Birthday party for our downstairs' neighbor of 22 years, who is distraught that we will be moving sometime soon, and her across the hall neighbors who introduced us to this apartment, market-street, quartier and arrondissement 25 years ago and she said "I've got it; Pirouette!" But I said, "we were just there, the menu probably hasn't changed and I'm not sure it'll be as great the 3rd time in for me in a month.
Madame, the Food Goddess, had the artichokes poivrade with fondant gnocchi and perfectly spicy chorizo bits; Colette had the foie gras with figs several ways; and the Food God had monkfish cheeks with a super sauce. Madame the Birthday Girl and I ate hand-outs like Charles Laughton's Henry VIII threw at his dogs - very pleasant scaps indeed.
For mains, the FGess had the mulet a laplacha with a ton of veggies, the BGirl the lieu noir with various types of mushrooms, the veritable FG had what may have been the best dish of the day - "Pluma iberico" - a cut of pork from the tender part of the porcine neck and I had what was arguably as good - the pigeon royal, cooked to my exactitude (that is bloody interior/brown exterior) with a log leaf with chopped leeks or such and a slice of toasted bread covered with chopped abats and soaked in pigeon sauce. Whew!
For finales, the BG had the millefeuille of raspberries and blackberries, Colette had her gold standard rice pudding and the FG and I shared the baba.
