I don't have a lot of subjects to blog about these days. It's still too dark and damp for taking good photos outdoors. The garden is in hibernation. Since we hardly ever go anywhere these days, except to markets and supermarkets to do food shopping... well, that limits the range.
This weekend I plan to make a French standard: pot au feu. That's boiled dinner with beef, carrots, onions, potatoes, and, in this case, turnips — just because I like them. Earlier this week I made blanquette de veau. Walt keeps a list of dishes we want to cook so we won't forget the ingredients when we go shopping. There are two things on it right now: English beef Wellington, Spanish paëlla, and French raclette.
You probably think we must both weigh a ton or two, but we don't. It's all in portion control, and the walks with the dog every day are crucial. Walking a lot means I can eat and drink what I want, within reason.
On the left (or maybe above) is a photo of the two of us taken in December by the woman at the restaurant I blogged about a few days ago, Le Moulin de Chaudé in Chemillé-sur-Indrois. If you know us, you'll see that we've aged but we haven't blown up too much.
I do make pulled pork fairly often. I like to always have some in the freezer. The pork is lean and tasty, and it can be seasoned different ways. The French site I linked to in yesterday's post says that most pulled pork is cooked in slow cookers (crock pots) and that might be true these days. It's what I do. But the authentic pulled pork is barbecued — smoked and slow-cooked over hickory or oak embers. Above is a photo of the smokehouse at Wilber's restaurant in North Carolina, my favorite place for pulled pork and hushpuppies. I've been going there since the late 1960s. The photo is almost 15 years old.